THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Ralph  Fre\jd 


THE 


LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES 


OF 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


CHARLES    DICKENS. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS    BY  F.    BARNARD. 


NEW  YORK: 

JOHN    WURTELE    LOVELL, 

No.  24  Bond  Street. 


ll-^ 


PREFACE 


What  is  exaggeration  to  one  class  of  minds  and  percep- 
tions, is  plain  truth  to  another.  That  which  is  commonly 
called  a  long-sight,  perceives  in  a  prospect  innumerable 
features  and  bearings  non-existent  to  a  short-sighted  person. 
I  sometnnes  ask  myself  whether  there  may  occasionally  be  a 
difference  of  this  kind  between  some  writers  and  some  readers  ; 
whether  it  is  always  the  writer  who  colors  highly,  or  whether 
it  is  now  and  then  the  reader  whose  eye  for  color  is  a  little 
dull  t 

On  this  head  of  exaggeration  I  have  a  positive  experience, 
more  curious  than  the  speculation  I  have  just  set  down.  It 
is  this : — I  hav'e  never  touched  a  character  precisely  from  the 
life,  but  some  counterpart  of  that  character  has  incredulously 
asked  me :  "  Now  really,  did  I  ever  really,  see  one  like  it  ?  " 

All  the  Pecksniff  family  upon  earth  are  quite  agreed,  I 
believe,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  an  exaggeration,  and  that  no 
such  character  ever  existed.  I  will  not  offer  any  plea  on  his 
behalf  to  so  powerful  and  genteel  a  body,  but  will  make  a 
remark  on  the  character  of  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

I  conceive  that  the  sordid  coarseness  and  brutality  of 
Jonas  would  be  unnatural,  if  there  had  been  nothing  in  his 
early  education,  and  in  the  precept  and  example  always  before 
him,  to  engender  and  develop  the  vices  that  make  him  odious. 
But,  so  born  and  so  bred  ;  admired  for  that  which  made  him 
hateful,  and  justified  from  his  cradle  in  cunning,  treachery, 
and  avarice  ;  I  claim  him  as  the  legitimate  issue  of  the  father 
upon  whom  those  vices  are  seen  to  recoil.  And  I  submit  that 
their  recoil  upon  that  old  man,  in  his  unhonnred  age,  is  not  a 
mere  piece  of  poetical  justice,  but  is  the  extreme  exposition 
of  a  direct  truth. 

I  make  this  comment  and  solicit  the  reader's  attention  to 
it  in  his  or  her  consideration  of  this  tale,  because  nothing  is 
more  common  in  real  life  than  a  want  of  profitable  refiection 
on  the  causes  of  many  vices  and  crimes  that  awaken  general 
horror.     What  is  substantially  true  of  families  in  this  respect, 


iv  PREFACE. 

is  true  of  a  whole  commonwealth.  As  we  sow,  we  reap.  Let 
the  reader  go  into  the  children's  side  of  any  prison  in  England, 
or,  I  grieve  to  add,  of  many  workhouses,  and  judge  whether 
those  are  monsters  who  disgrace  our  streets,  people  our  hulks 
and  penitentiaries,  and  overcrowd  our  penal  colonies,  or  are 
creatures  whom  we  have  deliberately  suffered  to  be  bred  for 
misery  and  ruin. 

The  American  portion  of  this  story  is  in  no  other  respect 
a  caricature,  than  as  it  is  an  exhibition,  for  the  most  part 
(Mr.  Bevan  excepted),  of  a  ludicrous  side,  only^  of  the  Ameri- 
can character — of  that  side  which  was,  four  and  twenty  years 
ago,  from  its  nature,  the  most  obtrusive,  and  the  most  likely 
to  be  seen  by  such  travellers  as  Young  Martin  and  Mark 
Tapley.  As  1  had  never,  in  writing  fiction,  had  any  disposi- 
tion to  soften  what  is  ridiculous  or  wrong  at  home,  so  I  then 
hoped  that  the  good-humored  people  of  the  United  States 
would  not  be  generally  disposed  to  quarrel  with  me  for  carry- 
ing the  same  usage  abroad.  I  am  happy  to  believe  that  my 
confidence  in  that  great  nation  was  not  misplaced. 

When  this  book  was  first  published,  I  was  given  to  under- 
stand, by  some  authorities,  that  the  watertoast  Association 
and  eloquence  were  beyond  all  bounds  of  belief.  Therefore, 
I  record  the  fact  that  all  that  portion  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit's 
experiences  is  a  literal  paraphrase  of  some  reports  of  public 
proceedings  in  the  United  States  (especially  of  the  proceed- 
ings of  a  certain  Brandywine  Association),  which  were  printed 
in  the  Times  newspaper  in  June  and  July,  1843,  ''■^  about  the 
time  when  I  was  engaged  in  writing  those  parts  of  the  book ; 
and  which  remain  on  the  file  of  the  Times  newspaper,  of 
course. 

In  all  my  writings,  I  hope  I  have  taken  every  available 
opportunity  of  showing  the  want  of  sanitary  improvements  in 
the  neglected  dwellings  of  the  poor.  Mrs.  Sarah  Gamp  was, 
four  and  twenty  years  ago,  a  fair  representation  of  the  hired 
attendant  on  the  poor  in  sickness.  The  hospitals  of  London 
were,  in  many  respects,  noble  institutions ;  in  others,  very 
defective.  I  think  it  not  the  least  among  the  instances  of 
their  mismanagement,  that  Mrs.  Betsy  Prig  was  a  fair  speci- 
men of  a  hospital  nurse  ;  and  that  the  hospitals,  with  their 
means  and  funds,  should  have  left  it  to  private  humanity  and 
enterprise  to  enter  on  an  attempt  to  improve  that  class  of 
persons — since,  greatly  improved  through  the  agency  of  good 
women. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PACE. 

I.  Introductory,  concerning  the  pedigree  of  the  Chuz- 

zlewit  family 7 

II.  Wherein  certain  persons  are  presented  to  the  reader, 
with  whom  he  may,  if  he  pleases,  become  better 
acquainted 13 

III.  In  which   certain  other  persons  are  introduced;    on 

the  same  terms  as  in  the  last  chapter 31 

IV.  From  which  it  will  appear  that  if  union  be  strength, 

and  family  affection  be  pleasant  to  contemplate,  the 
Chuzzlewits- were  the  strongest  and  most  agreeable 

family  in  the  world 49 

V.  Containing  a  full  account  of  the  installation  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  new  pupil  into  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's family,  with  all  the  festivities  held  on  that 
occasion,  and  the  great  enjoyment  of  Mr.  Pinch..  .  69 
VI.  Comprises,  among  other  important  matters,  Peck- 
sniffian  and  architectural,  an  exact  relation  of  the 
progress  made  by  Mr.  Pinch  in  the  confidence  and 

friendship  of  the  new  pupil 91 

VII.  In  which  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  asserts  the  independence 

of  his  spirit,  and  the  Blue  Dragon  loses  a  limb..  .  .    106 
VIII.  Accompanies  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  charming  daugh- 
ters to   the  city  of   London  ;  and   relates  what  fell 

out,  upon  their  way  thither 123 

IX.  Town  and  Todgers's 134 

X.  Containing  strange  matter;  on  which  many  events  in 
this  history  may,  for  their  good  or  evil   influence, 

chiefly  depend 161 

XI.  Wherein  a  certain   gentleman   becomes   particular  in 
his  attentions  to  a  certain  ladv  ;  and  more  coming 

events  than  one,  cast  their  shadows  before 17G 

XII.   Will  be  seen  in  the  long  run,  if  not  in  the  short  one, 

3 


^  CONTENTS. 

CHAl'.  PAGB. 

to  concern  Mr.  Pinch  and  others,  nearly.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  asserts  the  dignity  of  outraged  virtue. 
Young  Martin  Chuzzlewit  forms  a  desperate  resolu- 
tion      1 98 

XIII.  Showing  what  became  of  Martin  and  his  desperate 

resolve  after  he  left  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  ;  what 
persons  he  encountered ;  what  anxieties  he  suf- 
fered ;  and  what  news  he  heard 219 

XIV.  In  which  Martin   bids  adieu   to  the   lady  of  his  love; 

and  honors  an  obscure  individual  whose  fortune  he 
intends  to  make,  by  commending  her  to  his  protec- 
tion        240 

XV.  The  burden  whereof  is,  hail,  Columbia  ! 251 

XVI.  Martin  disembarks  from  that  noble  and  fast-sailing- 
line-of-packet  ship,  the  Screw,  at  the  port  of  New 
York,  in  the  United  States  of  America.  He  makes 
some  acquaintances,  and  dines  at  a  boarding-house. 

The  particulars  of  those  transactions 261 

XVII.  Martin  enlarges  his  circle  of  acquaintance  ;  increases 
his  stock  of  wisdom  ;  and  has  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity of  comparing  his  own  experiences  with  those 
of  I.ummy  Ned  of  the  Light  Salisbury,  as  related 

by  his  friend  Mr.  William  Simmons 283 

XVIII.  Does  business  with  the  house  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit 
and  son,  from  which  one  of  the  partners  retires  un- 
expectedly     303 

XIX.  The  reader  is  brought  into  communication  with  some 
professional  persons,  and  sheds   a  tear    over   the 

filial  piety  of  good  Mr.  Jonas 314 

XX.   Is  a  chapter  of  love 330 

XXI.  More  American  experiences.  Martin  takes  a  partner, 
and  makes  a  purchase.  Some  account  of  Eden,  as 
it  appeared  on  paper.  Also  of  the  British  Lion. 
Also  of  the  kind  of  sympathy  professed  and  enter- 
tained by  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United 
Sympathizers 345 

XXII.  From  which  it  will  be  seen  that  Martin  became  a 
lion  on  his  own  account.  Together  with  the  reason 
why 366 

XXIII.  Martin   and   his    partner  take   possession   of  their 

estate.  The  joyful  occasion  involves  some  further 
account  of  Eden 377 

XXIV.  Reports  progress  in  certain  homely  matters  of  love, 

hatred,  jealousy,  and  revenge 387 

XXV.  Is  in  part  professional ;  and  furnishes  the  reader 
with  some  valuable  hints  in  relation  to  the  manage- 
ment of  a  sick  chamber 404 

XXVI.  An  unexpected  meeting,  and  a  promising  prospect.  .  420 


CONTENTS.  •  5 

CHAP.  PAGE. 

XXVII.  Showing  that  old  friends  may  not  only  appear  with 

new  faces,  but  in  false  colors.  That  people  are 
prone  to  bite  ;  and  that  biters  may  sometimes  be 
bitten 429 

XXVIII.  Mr.  Montague  at  home.  And  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit 

at  home 451 

XXIX.  In  which  some  people  are  precocious,  others  profes- 
sional, and  others  mysterious  :  all  in  their  sev- 
eral ways 462 

XXX.  Proves  that  changes  may  be  rung  in  the  best-regu- 
lated families,  and  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  spec- 
ial hand  at  a  triple-bob-major 472 

XXXI.  Mr.  Pinch  is  discharged  of  a  duty  which  he  never 

owed  to  anybody  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  discharges 

a  duty  which  he  owes  to  society ....   489 

XXXII.  Treats  of  Todgers's  again  ;  and  of  another  blight- 

ed plant  besides  the  plants  upon  the  leads. ....    507 

XXXIII.  Further  proceedings   in    Eden,   and  a  proceeding 

out  of   it.     Martin   makes  a  discovery  of  some 
.    importance 5^4 

XXXIV.  In  which  the  travellers   move   homeward,  and  en- 

counter some  distinguished  characters  upon  the 

way   43 1 

XXXV.  Arriving  in  England,  Martin  witnesses  a  ceremony, 
from  which  he  derives  the  cheering  information 
that  he  has  not  been  forgotten  in  his  absence.  .   548 
XXXVI.  Tom  Pinch  departs  to  seek  his  fortune.     What  he 

finds  at  starting 555 

XXXVII.  Tom  Pinch,  going  astray,  finds  that  he  is  not  the 
only  person  in  that  predicament.      He  retaliates 

upon  a  fallen  foe 577 

XXXVIII.  Secret  service 587 

XXXIX.   Containing  some  further  particulars  of  the  domes- 
tic economy  of  the  Pinches  ;  with  strange  news 

from  the  city,  narrowly  concerning  Tom 597 

XL.  The  Pinches  make  a  new  acquaintance,  and  have 

fresh  occasion  for  surprise  and  wonder 615 

XLI.  Mr.  Jonas    and  his  friend    arriving    at  a  pleasant 

understanding,  set  forth  upon  an  enterprise.  .  .  .    C31 
XLI  I.  Continuation  of  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and 

his  friend 641 

XLIII.  Has  an  influence  on  the  fortunes  of  several  peo- 
ple. Mr.  Pecksniff  is  exhibited  in  the  plenitude 
of  power,  and   wields    the    same  with   fortitude 

and  magnanimity 651 

XLIV.  Further  continuation  of  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas 

and  his  friend 673 

XLV.   In  which  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister  take  a  little 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGB. 

pleasure  ;  but  quite  in  a  domestic  \*ay,  and  with 

no  ceremony  about  it .   6S3 

XLVI.   In  which    Miss   Pecksniff  makes   love,  Mr.  Jonas 
makes   wrath,   Mrs.  Gamp  makes  tea,  and  Mr. 

Chuffey  makes  business 693 

XLVI  I.  Conclusion  of  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 

friend 716 

XLVIII.  Bears  tidings  of  Martin,  and  of  Mark,  as  well  as 
of  a  third  person  not  quite  unknown  to  the 
reader.  Exhibits  filial  piety  in  an  ugly  aspect; 
and  casts  a  doubtful  ray  of  light  upon  a  very 

dark  place 725 

XLIX.  In  which  Mrs.  Harris,  assisted  by  a  teapot,  is  the 

cause  of  a  division  between  friends 742 

L.  Surprises  Tom   Pinch  very  much,  and  shows  how 
certain   confidences    passed  between  him  and 

his  sister 757 

LI.  Sheds  new  and  brighter  light  upon  the  very  dark 
place  ;  and  contains  the  sequel  of  the  enterprise 

of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his  friend 768 

LI  I.  In  which  the  tables  are  turned  completely  upside 

down 790 

LIII.  What  John  Westlock  said  to  Tom  Pinch's  sister; 

what  Tom  Pinch's  sister  said  to  John  Westlock; 

what  Tom  Pinch  said  to  both    of    them  ;  and 

how  they  all  passed  the  remainder  of  the  day.  .    810 

LIV.  Gives  the  author  great  concern.     For  it  is  the  last 

in  the  book 820 


LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES 


OF 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY,    CONCERNING    THE    PEDIGREE     OF     THE    CHUZ- 
ZLEWIT   FAMILY. 

As  no  lady  or  gentleman,  with  any  claims  to  polite  breeding, 
can  possibly  sympathize  with  the  Chuzzlewit  Family  without 
being  first  assured  of  the  extreme  antiquity  of  the  race,  it  is 
a  great  satisfaction  to  know  that  it  undoubtedly  descended  in 
a  direct  line  from  Adam  and  Eve  ;  and  was,  in  the  very  earliest 
times,  closely  connected  with  the  agricultural  interest.  If  it 
should  ever  be  urged  by  grudging  and  malicious  persons,  that  a 
Chuzzlewit,  in  any  period  of  the  family  histoiy,  displayed  an 
overweening  amount  of  family  pride,  surely  the  weakness  will 
be  considered  not  only  pardonable  but  laudable,  when  the 
immense  superiority  of  the  house  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  in 
respect  of  this  its  ancient  origin,  is  taken  into  account. 

It  is  remarkable  that  as  there  was,  in  the  oldest  family  of 
which  we  have  any  record,  a  murderer  and  a  vagabond,  so  we 
never  fail  to  meet,  in  the  records  of  all  old  families,  with  innu- 
merable repetitions  of  the  same  phase  of  character.  Indeed, 
it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  principle,  that  the  more  ex- 
tended the  ancestry,  the  greater  the  amount  of  violence  and 
vagabondism  ;  for  in  ancient  days,  those  two  amusements,  com- 
bining a  wholesome  excitement  with  a  ])romising  means  of  re- 


8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

pairing  shattered  fortunes,  were  at  once  the  ennobhng  pursuit 
and  the  heaUhfuI  recreation  of  the  QuaUty  of  this  land. 

Consequently,  it  is  a  source  of  inexpressible  comfort  and 
happiness  to  find,  that  in  various  periods  of  our  history,  the 
Chuzzlewits  were  actively  connected  with  divers  slaughterous 
conspiracies  and  bloody  frays.  It  is  further  recorded  of  them, 
that  being  clad  from  head  to  heel  in  steel  of  proof,  they  did 
on  many  occasions  lead  their  leather-jerkined  soldiers  to  the 
death,  with  invincible  courage,  and  afterwards  return  home 
gracefully  to  their  relations  and  friends. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  at  least  one  Chuzzlewit  came 
over  with  William  the  Conqueror.  It  does  not  appear  that 
this  illustrious  ancestor  "  came  over "  that  monarch,  to  em- 
ploy the  vulgar  phrase,  at  any  subsequent  period  ;  inasmuch 
as  the  Family  do  not  seem  to  have  been  ever  greatly  distin- 
guished by  the  possession  of  landed  estate.  And  it  is  well 
known  that  for  the  bestowal  of  that  kind  of  property  upon  his 
favorites,  the  liberality  and  gratitude  of  the  Norman  were 
as  remarkable,  as  those  virtues  are  usually  found  to  be  in 
great  men  when  they  give  away  what  belongs  to  other  people. 

Perhaps  in  this  place  the  history  may  pause  to  congratu- 
late itself  upon  the  enormous  amount  of  braver}^  wisdom,  elo- 
quence, virtue,  gentle  birth,  and  true  nobility,  that  appears  to 
have  come  into  England  with  the  Norman  Invasion  ;  an 
amount  which  the  genealogy  of  every  ancient  family  lends  its 
aid  to  swell,  and  which  would  beyond  all  question  have  been 
found  to  be  just  as  great,  and  to  the  full  as  prolific  in  giving 
birth  to  long  lines  of  chivalrous  descendants,  boastful  of  their 
origin,  even  though  William  the  Conqueror  had  been  William 
the  Conquered,  a  change  of  circumstances  which,  it  is  quite 
certain,  would  have  made  no  manner  of  difference  in  this  re- 
spect. 

There  was  unquestionably  a  Chuzzlewit  in  the  Gunpowder 
Plot,  if  indeed  the  arch-traitor,  Fawkes  himself,  were  not  a 
scion  of  this  remarkable  stock,  as  he  might  easily  have  been, 
supposing  another  Chuzzlewit  to  have  emigrated  to  Spain  in 
the  previous  generation,  and  there  intermarried  with  a  Spanish 
lady,  by  whom  he  had  issue,  one  olive-complexioned  |on.  This 
probable  conjecture  is  strengthened,  if  not  absolutely  confirmed, 
by  a  fact  which  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting  to  those  who  are 
curious  in  tracing  the  progress  of  hereditary  tastes  through  the 
lives  of  their  unconscious  inheritors.  It  is  a  notable  circum- 
stance that  in  these  later   times,    many  Chuzzlewits,    being 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  g 

unsuccessful  in  other  pursuits,  have,  without  the  smallest 
rational  hope  of  enrichin*^  themselves,  or  any  conceivable  rea- 
son, set  up  as  coal-merchants  ;  and  have,  month  after  month, 
continued  gloomily  to  watch  a  small  stock  of  coals  without 
in  any  one  instance  negotiating  with  a  purchaser.  The  re- 
markable similarity  between  this  course  of  proceeding  and 
that  adopted  by  their  Great  Ancestor  beneath  the  vaults  of  the 
Parliament  House  at  Westminster,  is  too  obvious  and  too  full 
of  interest,  to  stand  in  need  of  comment. 

It  is  also  clearly  proved  by  the  oral  traditions  of  the 
Family,  that  there  existed,  at  some  one  period  of  its  histojy 
which  is  not  distinctly  stated,  a  matron  of  such  destructive 
principles,  and  so  familiarized  to  the  use  and  composition  of 
inflammatory  and  combustible  engines,  that  she  was  called 
"The  Match  Maker  :  "  by  which  nickname  and  byword  she  is 
recognized  in  the  Family  legends  to  this  day.  Surely  there 
can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  this  was  the  Spanish  lady,  the 
mother  of  Chuzzlewit  Fawkes. 

But  there  is  one  other  piece  of  evidence,  bearing  immedi- 
ate reference  to  their  close  connection  with  this  memorable 
event  in  English  Flistory,  which  must  carry  conviction,  even 
to  a  mind  (if  such  a  mind  there  be)  remaining  unconvinced  by 
these  presumptive  proofs. 

There  was,  within  a  few  years,  in  the  possession  of  a 
highly  respectable  and  in  every  way  credible  and  unimpeach- 
able member  of  the  Chuzzlewit  Family  (for  his  Bitterest  enemy 
never  dared  to  huit  at  his  being  otherwise  than  a  wealthy 
man),  a  dark  lantern  of  undoubted  antiquity ;  rendered  still 
more  interesting  by  being,  in  shape  and  pattern,  extremely  like 
such  as  are  in  use  at  the  present  day.  Now  this  gentleman, 
since  deceased,  was  at  all  times  ready  to  make  oath,  and  did 
again  and  again  set  forth  upon  his  solemn  asseveration,  that  he 
■  hadfrequently  heard  his  grandmother  say,  when  contemplating 
this  venerable  relic,  "Ay,  ay  !  This  was  carried  by  my  fourth 
son  on  the  fifth  of  November,  when  he  was  a  Guy  Fawkes." 
These  remarkable  words  wrought  (as  well  they  might)  a  strong 
impression  on  his  mind,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  repeating 
them  very  often.  The  just  interpretation  which  they  bear, 
and  the  conclusion  to  which  they  lead,  are  triumphant  and 
irresistible.  The  old  lady,  naturally  strong-minded,  was  nev- 
ertheless frail  and  fading  ;  she  was  notoriously  subject  to 
that  confusion  of  ideas,  or,  to  say  the  least,  of  speech,  to  which 
age  and  garrulity  are  liable.     The  slight,  the  ver^'  slight  con- 


I  o  MA  R  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 

fusion,  apparent  in  these  expressions,  is  manifest  and  is  ludic- 
rously easy  of  correction.  "  Ay,  ay,"  quoth  she,  and  it  will 
be  observed  that  no  emendation  whatever  is  necessary  to  be 
made  in  these  two  initiative  remarks,  "  Ay,  ay  !  This  lan- 
tern was  carried  by  my  forefather  " — not  fourth  son,  which 
is  preposterous — "  on  the  fifth  of  November.  And  he  was 
Guy  Fawkes."  Here  we  have  a  remark  at  once  consistent, 
clear,  natural,  and  in  strict  accordance  with  the  character 
of  the  speaker.  Indeed  the  anecdote  is  so  plainly  suscepti- 
ble of  this  meaning,  and  no  other,  that  it  would  be  hardly 
worth  recording  in  its  original  state,  were  it  not  a  proof  of 
what  may  be  (and  very  often  is)  affected  not  only  in  histor- 
ical prose  but  in  imaginative  poetr}',  by  the  exercise  of  a 
little  ingenious  labor  on  the  part  of  a  commentator. 

It  has  been  said  that  there  is  no  instance  in  modern 
times,  of  a  Chuzzlewit  having  been  found  on  terms  of  inti- 
macy with  the  Great.  But  here  again  the  sneering  detractors 
who  weave  such  miserable  figments  from  their  malicious 
brains,  are  stricken  dumb  by  evidence.  For  letters  are  yet  in 
the  possession  of  various  branches  of  the  family,  from  which 
it  distinctly  appears,  being  stated  in  so  many  words,  that  one 
Diggory  Chuzzlewit  was  in  the  habit  of  perpetually  dining 
with  Duke  Humphrey.  So  constantly  was  he  a  guest  at  that 
nobleman's  table,  indeed,  and  so  unceasingly  were  His  Grace's 
hospitality  and  companionship  forced,  as  it  were,  upon  him, 
that  we  find  him  uneasy,  and  full  of  constraint  and  reluc- 
tance :  writing  his  friends  to  the  effect  that  if  they  fail  to  do  so 
and  so  by  bearer,  he  will  have  no  choice  but  to  dine  again 
with  Duke  Humphrey ;  and  expressing  himself  in  a  very 
marked  and  extraordinary  manner  as  one  surfeited  of  high 
Life  and  Gracious  Company. 

It  has  been  rumored,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  the 
rumor  originated  in  the  same  base  quarters,  that  a  certain 
male  Chuzzlewit,  whose  birth  must  be  admitted  to  be  in- 
volved in  some  obscurity,  was  of  very  mean  and  low  de- 
scent. How  stands  the  proof?  When  the  son  of  that  in- 
dividual, to  whom  the  secret  of  his  father's  birth  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  communicated  by  his  father  in  his 
lifetime,  lay  upon  his  deathbed,  this  question  was  put  to  him 
in  a  distinct,  solemn  and  formal  way  :  Toby  Chuzzlewit,  who 
was  your  grandfather  ?  To  which  he,  with  his  last  breath,  no 
less  distinctly,  solemnly,  and  formally  replied — and  his  words 
were  taken  down  at  the  time,  and  signed  by  six  witnesses 
each  with  his  name  and  address  in  full — "  The  Lord  No  Zoo." 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  II 

It  may  be  said — it  has  been  said,  for  human  wickedness  has 
no  limits — that  there  is  no  lord  of  that  name,  and  that  among 
the  titles  which  have  become  extinct,  none  at  all  resembling 
this,  in  sound  even,  is  to  be  discovered.  But  what  is  the  irre- 
sistible inference  ? — Rejecting  a  theory  broached  by  some 
well-meaning  but  mistaken  persons,  that  this  Mr.  Toby  Chuz- 
zlewit's  grandfather,  to  judge  from  his  name,  must  surely  have 
been  a  Mandarin  (which  is  wholly  insupportable,  for  there  is 
no  pretence  of  his  grandmother  ever  having  been  out  of  this 
countrjr,  or  of  any  Mandarin  having  been  in  it  within  some 
years  of  his  father's  birth,  except  those  in  the  tea-shops,  which 
cannot  for  a  moment  be  regarded  as  having  any  bearing  on 
the  question,  one  way  or  other),  rejecting  this  hypothesis,  is  it 
not  manifest  that  Mr.  Toby  Chuzzlewit  had  either  received 
the  name  imperfectly  from  his  father,  or  that  he  had  forgotten 
it,  or  that  he  had  mispronounced  it  ?  and  that  even  at  the 
recent  period  in  question,  the  Chuzzlewits  were  connected  by 
a  bend  sinister,  or  kind  of  heraldic  over-the-left,  with  some 
unknown  noble  and  illustrious  House .'' 

From  documentary  evidence,  yet  preserved  in  the  family, 
the  fact  is  clearly  established  that  in  the  comparatively  modern 
days  of  the  Diggory  Chuzzlewit  before  mentioned,  one  of  its 
members  had  attained  to  very  great  wealth  and  influence. 
Throughout  such  fragments  of  his  correspondence  as  have 
escaped  the  ravages  of  the  moths  (who,  in  right  of  their  exten- 
sive absorption  of  the  contents  of  deeds  and  papers,  may  be 
called  the  general  registers  of  the  Insect  World),  we  find  him 
making  constant  reference  to  an  uncle,  in  respect  of  whom  he 
would  seem  to  have  entertained  great  expectations,  as  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  seeking  to  propitiate  his  favor  by  presents 
of  plate,  jewels,  books,  watches,  and  other  valuable  articles. 
Thus,  he  writes  on  one  occasion  to  his  brother  in  reference 
to  a  gravy-spoon,  the  brother's  property,  which  he  (Diggory) 
would  appear  to  have  borrowed  or  otherwise  possessed  him- 
self of  :  "  Do  not  be  angry,  I  have  parted  with  it — to  my  uncle." 
On  another  occasion  he  expresses  himself  in  a  similar  manner 
with  regard  to  a  child's  mug  which  had  been  entrusted  to  him 
to  get  repaired.  On  another  occasion  he  says,  "  I  have  be- 
stowed upon  that  irresistible  uncle  of  mine  everything  I  ever 
possessed."  And  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  paying  long  and 
constant  visits  to  this  gentleman  at  his  mansion,  if,  indeed,  he 
did  not  wholly  reside  there,  is  manifest  from  the  following 
sentence  :  "  With  the  exception  of  the  suit  of  clothes  I  carry 


12  MA  J?  TIA^  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

about  with  me,  the  whole  of  my  wearing  apparel  is  at  present  at 
my  uncle's."  This  gentleman's  patronage  and  influence  must 
have  been  very  extensive,  for  his  nephew  writes,  "  His  interest 
is  too  high  " — *' It  is  too  much  "' — "  It  is  tremendous  '' — and 
the  like.  Still  it  does  not  appear  (which  is  strange)  to  have 
procured  for  him  any  lucrative  post  at  court  or  elsewhere,  or 
to  have  conferred  upon  him  any  other  distinction  than  that 
which  was  necessarily  included  in  the  countenance  of  so  great 
a  man,  and  the  being  invited  by  him  to  certain  entertainments, 
so  splendid  and  costly  in  their  nature  that  he  calls  them 
"  Golden  Balls." 

It  is  needless  to  multiply  instances  of  the  high  and  lofty  sta- 
tion, and  the  vast  importance  of  the  Chuzzlevvits,  at  different 
periods.  If  it  came  within  the  scope  of  reasonable  probability 
that  further  proofs  were  required,  they  might  be  heaped  upon 
each  other  until  they  formed  an  Alps  of  testimony,  beneath 
which  the  boldest  skepticism  should  be  crushed  and  beaten  flat. 
As  a  goodly  tumulus  is  already  collected,  and  decently  batten- 
ed up  above  the  Family  grave,  the  present  chapter  is  content  to 
leave  it  as  it  is  ;  merely  adding,  by  way  of  a  final  spadeful,  that 
many  Chuzzlewits,  both  male  and  female,  are  proved  to  demon- 
stration, on  the  faith  of  letters  written  by  their  own  mothers,  to 
have  had  chiselled  noses,  undeniable  chins,  forms  that  might 
have  served  the  sculptor  for  a  model,  exquisitely-turned  limbs, 
and  polished  foreheads  of  so  transparent  a  texture  that  the 
blue  veins  might  be  seen  branching  off  in  various  directions, 
like  so  many  roads  on  an  ethereal  map.  This  fact  in  itself, 
though  it  had  been  a  solitary  one,  would  have  utterly  settled 
and  clenched  the  busmess  in  hand  ;  for  it  is  well  known,  on  the 
authority  of  all  the  books  which  treat  of  such  matters,  that 
everyone  of  these  phenomena,  but  especially  that  of  the  chisel- 
ling, are  invariably  peculiar  to,  and  only  make  themselves 
apparent  in,  persons  of  the  very  best  condition. 

This  history,  having,  to  its  own  perfect  satisfaction,  (and, 
consequently,  to  the  full  contentment  of  all  its  readers,)  proved 
the  Chuzzlewits  to  have  had  an  origin,  and  to  have  been  at 
one  time  or  other  of  an  importance  which  cannot  fail  to  render 
them  highly  improving  and  acceptable  acquaintance  to  all  right- 
minded  individuals,  may  now  proceed  in  earnest  with  its  task. 
And  having  shown  that  they  must  have  had,  by  reason  of  their 
ancient  birth,  a  pretty  large  share  in  the  foundation  and  increase 
of  the  human  family,  it  will  one  day  become  its  province  to  sub- 
mit, that  such  of  its  members  as  shall  be  introduced  in  these 


MAR  TTN  C MUZZLE  WTT.  1 3 

pages,  have  still  many  counterparts  and  prototypes  in  the 
Great  World  about  us.  At  present  it  contents  itself  with 
remarking,  in  a  general  way,  on  this  head  :  Firstly,  that  it  may 
he  safely  asserted  and  yet  without  implying  any  direct  partici- 
pation in  the  Monboddo  doctrine  touching  the  probability  of 
the  human  race  having  once  been  monkeys,  that  men  do  play 
very  strange  and  extraordinary  tricks.  Secondly,  and  yet  with- 
out trenching  on  the  Blumenbach  theory  as  to  the  descendant 
of  Adam  having  a  vast  number  of  qualities  which  belong  more 
particularly  to  swine  than  to  any  other  class  of  animals  in  the 
creation,  that  some  men  certainly  are  remarkable  for  taking 
uncommon  good  care  of  themselves. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHEREIN  CERTAIN  PERSONS  ARE  PRESENTED  TO  THE  READER, 
WITH  WHOISI  HE  MAY,  IF  HE  PLEASES,  BECOME  BETTER 
ACQUAINTED, 

It  was  pretty  late  in  the  autumn  of  the  year,  when  the  de- 
clining sun,  struggling  through  the  mist  which  had  obscured 
it  all  day,  looked  brightly  down  upon  a  little  Wiltshire  village 
within  an  easy  journey  of  the  fair  old  town  of  Salisbur}'. 

Like  a  sudden  flash  of  memory  or  spirit  kindling  up  the 
mind  of  an  old  man,  it  shed  a  glory  upon  the  scene,  in  which 
its  departed  youth  and  freshness  seemed  to  live  again.  The 
wet  grass  sparkled  in  the  light  ;  the  scanty  patches  of  verdure 
in  the  hedges — where  a  few  green  twigs  yet  stood  together 
bravely,  resisting  to  the  last  the  tyranny  of  nipping  winds  and 
early  frosts — took  heart  and  brightened  up ;  the  stream  which- 
had  been  dull  and  sullen  all  day  long,  broke  out  into  a  cheer- 
ful smile  ;  the  birds  began  to  chirp  and  twitter  on  the  naked 
boughs,  as  though  the  hopeful  creatures  half  believed  that 
winter  had  gone  by,  and  spring  had  come  already.  The  vane 
upon  the  tapering  spire  of  the  old  church  glistened  from  its 
lofty  station  in  sympathy  with  the  general  gladness  ;  and  from 
the  ivy-shaded  windows  such  gleams  of  light  shone  back  upon 
the  glowing  sky,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  quiet  buildings  were 
the  hoarding-place  of  twenty  summers,  and  all  their  ruddiness 
and  warmth  were  stored  within. 


14  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Even  those  tokens  of  the  season  which  emphatically  whis- 
pered of  the  coming  winter,  graced  the  landscape,  and,  for 
the  moment,  tinged  its  livelier  features  with  no  oppressive  air 
of  sadness.  The  fallen  leaves,  with  which  the  ground  was 
strewn,  gave  forth  a  pleasant  fragrance,  and  subduing  all 
harsh  sounds  of  distant  feet  and  wheels,  created  a  repose  in 
gentle  unison  with  the  light  scattering  of  seed  hither  and 
thither  by  the  distant  husbandman,  and  with  the  noiseless 
passage  of  the  plough  as  it  turned  up  the  rich  brown  earth, 
and  wrought  a  graceful  pattern  in  the  stubbled  fields.  On 
the  motionless  branches  of  some  trees,  autumn  berries  hung 
like  clusters  of  coral  beads,  as  in  those  fabled  orchards  where 
the  fruits  were  jewels  ;  others,  stripped  of  all  their  garniture, 
stood  each  the  centre  of  its  little  heap  of  bright  red  leaves, 
watching  their  slow  decay  ;  others  again,  still  wearing  theirs, 
had  them  all  crunched  and  crackled  up,  as  though  they  had 
been  burnt ;  about  the  stems  of  some  were  piled,  in  ruddy 
mounds,  the  apples  they  had  borne  that  year  \  while  others 
(hardly  evergreens  this  class)  showed  somewhat  stern  and 
gloomy  in  their  vigor,  as  charged  by  nature  with  the  admoni- 
tion that  it  is  not  to  her  more  sensitive  and  joyous  favorites 
she  grants  the  longest  term  of  life.  Still  athwart  their  darker 
boughs,  the  sunbeams  struck  out  paths  of  deeper  gold  ;  and 
the  red  light,  mantling  in  among  their  swarthy  branches,  used 
them  as  foils  to  set  its  brightness  off,  and  aid  the  lustre  of  the 
dying  day. 

A  moment,  and  its  glory  was  no  more.  The  sun  went 
down  beneath  the  long  dark  lines  of  hill  and  cloud  which  piled 
up  in  the  west  an  airy  city,  wall  heaped  on  wall,  and  battle- 
ment on  battlement  ;  the  light  was  all  withdrawn  ;  the  shining 
church  turned  cold  and  dark  ;  the  stream  forgot  to  smile  ;  the 
birds  were  silent ;  and  the  gloom  of  winter  dwelt  on  every- 
thing. 

An  evening  wind  uprose  too,  and  the  slighter  branches 
cracked  and  rattled  as  they  moved,  in  skeleton  dances,  to  its 
moaning  music.  The  withering  leaves  no  longer  quiet,  hurried 
to  and  fro  in  search  of  shelter  from  its  chill  pursuit  ;  the 
laborer  unyoked  horses,  and  with  his  head  bent  down 
trudged  briskly  home  beside  them  ;  and  from  the  cottage 
windows  lights  began  to  glance  and  wink  upon  the  darkening 
fields. 

Then  the  village  forge  came  out  in  all  its  bright  impor- 
tance.    The  lusty  bellows  roared  Ha   ha  !    to  the  clear  fire, 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  15 

which  roared  in  turn,  and  bade  the  shining  sparks^  dance 
gayly  to  the  merry  clinking  of  the  hammers  on  the  anvil  The 
gleaming  iron,  in  its  emulation,  sparkled  too,  and  shed  its  red- 
hot  gems  around  profusely.  The  strong  smith  and  his  men 
dealt  such  strokes  upon  their  work,  as  made  even  the  melan- 
choly night  rejoice,  and  brought  a  glow  into  its  dark  face  as  it 
hovered  about  the  door  and  windows,  peeping  curiously  in 
above  the  shoulders  of  a  dozen  loungers.  As  to  this  idle 
company,  there  they  stood,  spell-bound  by  the  place,  and,  cast- 
ing now  and  then  a  glance  upon  the  darkness  in  their  rear, 
settled  their  lazy  elbows  more  at  ease  upon  the  sill,  and  leaned 
a  little  further  in,  no  more  disposed  to  tear  themselves  away 
than  if  they  had  been  born  to  cluster  round  the  blazing  hearth 
like  so  many  crickets. 

Out  upon  the  angry  wind  !  how  from  sighing,  it  began  to 
bluster  round"  the  merry  forge,  banging  at  the  wicket,  and 
grumbling  in  the  chimney,  as  if  it  bullied  the  jolly  bellows 
for  doing  anything  to  order.  And  what  an  impotent  swaggerer 
it  was  too,  for  all  its  noise  ;  for  if  it  had  any  infiuence  on  that 
hoarse  companion,  it  was  but  to  make  him  roar  his  cheerful 
song  the  louder,  and  by  consequence  to  make  the  fire  burn 
the  brighter,  and  the  sparks  to  dance  more  gayly  yet  :  at 
length,  they  whizzed  so  madly  round  and  round,  that  it  was 
too  much  for  such  a  surly  wind  to  bear  ;  so  olT  it  flew 
with  a  howl,  giving  the  old  sign  before  the  ale-house  door 
such  a  cuff  as  it  went,  that  the  Blue  Dragon  was  more  ram- 
pant than  usual  ever  afterwards,  and  indeed,  before  Christ- 
mas, reared  clean  out  of  its  crazy  frame. 

It  was  small  tyranny  for  a  respectable  wind  to  go  wreaking 
its  vengeance  on  such  poor  creatures  as  the  fallen  leaves,  but 
this  wind  happening  to  come  up  with  a  great  heap  of  them 
just  after  venting  its  humor  on  the  insulted  Dragon,  did  so 
disperse  and  scatter  them  that  they  tied  away,  pell-mell,  some 
here,  some  there,  rolling  over  each  other,  whirling  round  and 
round  upon  their  thin  edges,  taking  frantic  flights  into  the  air, 
and  playing  all  manner  of  extraordinary  gambols  in  the 
extremity  of  their  distress.  Nor  was  this  enough  for  its 
malicious  fury  ;  for  not  content  with  driving  them  abroad, 
it  charged  small  parties  of  them  and  hunted  them  into  the 
wheelwright's  saw-pit,  and  below  the  planks  and  timbers  in 
the  yard,  and  scattering  the  sawdust  in  the  air,  it  looked 
for  them  underneath,  and  when  it  did  meet  with  any,  whew  ! 
how  it  drove  them  on  and  followed  at  their  heels  ! 


1 6  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

The  scared  leaves  only  flew  the  faster  for  all  this,  and  a 
giddy  chase  it  was  ;  for  they  got  into  unfrequented  places, 
where  there  was  no  outlet,  and  where  their  pursuer  kept  them 
eddying  round  and  round  at  his  pleasure  ;  and  they  crept 
under  the  eaves  of  houses,  and  clung  tightly  to  the  sides  of 
hay-ricks,  like  bats  ;  and  tore  in  at  open  chamber  windows, 
and  cowered  close  to  hedges  ;  and  in  short  went  anywhere  for 
safety.  But  the  oddest  feat  they  achieved  was,  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  sudden  opening  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  front  door,  to 
dash  wildly  into  his  passage  ;  whither  the  wind  following  close 
upon  them,  and  finding  the  back-door  open,  incontinent- 
ly blew  out  the  lighted  candle  held  by  Miss  Pecksniff,  and 
slammed  the  front-door  against  Mr.  Pecksniff  who  was  at  that 
moment  entering,  with  such  violence,  that  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye.  he  lay  on  his  back  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  Being 
by  this  time  weary  of  such  trifling  performances,  the  boister- 
ous rover  hurried  away  rejoicing,  roaring  over  moor  and 
meadow,  hill  and  flat,  until  it  got  out  to  sea,  where  it  met 
with  other  winds  similarly  disposed,  and  made  a  night  of  it. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Pecksniff,  having  received  from  a 
sharp  angle  in  the  bottom  step  but  one,  that  sort  of  knock  on 
the  head  which  lights  up,  for  the  patient's  entertainment,  an 
imaginary  general  illumination  of  very  bright  short-sixes,  lay 
placidly  staring  at  his  own  street-door.  And  it  would  seem  to 
have  been  more  suggestive  in  its  aspect  than  street-doors  usu- 
ally are  ;  for  he  continued  to  lie  there,  rather  a  lengthy  and 
unreasonable  time,  without  so  much  as  wondering  whether  he 
was  hurt  or  no  ;  neither,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  inquired  through 
the  key-hole  in  a  shrill  voice,  which  might  have  belonged  to 
a  wind  in  its  teens,  "  Who's  there  t  "  did  he  make  any  reply  ; 
nor,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  opened  the  door  again,  and  shading 
the  candle  with  her  hand,  peered  out,  and  looked  provokingly 
round  him,  and  about  him,  and  over  him,  and  everywhere  but 
at  him,  did  he  offer  any  remark,  or  indicate  in  any  manner  the 
least  hint  of  a  desire  to  be  picked  up. 

"  /see  you,"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  to  the  ideal  inflicter  of 
a  runaway  knock.     "  You'll  catch  it,  sir  !  " 

Still  Air.  Pecksniff,  perhaps  from  having  caught  it  already, 
said  nothing. 

"  You're  round  the  corner  now,"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff. 
She  said  it  at  a  venture,  but  there  was  appropriate  matter  in  it 
too  ;  for  Mr.  Pecksniff",  being  in  the  act  of  extinguishing  the 
candles  before  mentioned  prettv  rapidly,  and  of  reducing  the 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


n 


number  of  brass  knobs  on  his  street-door  from  four  or  five 
hundred  (which  had  previously  been  juggling  of  their  own 
accord  before  his  eyes  in  a  very  novel  manner)  to  a  dozen  or 
so,  might  in  one  sense  have  been  said  to  be  coming  round  the 
corner,  and  just  turning  it. 

With  a  sharply-delivered  warning  relative  to  the  cage  and 
the  constable,  and  the  stocks  and  the  gallows.  Miss  Pecksniff 
was  about  to  close  the  door  again,  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  (being 
still  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps)  raised  himself  on  one  elbow 
and  sneezed. 

"  That  voice  !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff.     "  My  parent !  " 

At  this  exclamation,  another  Miss  Pecksniff  bounced  out 
of  the  parlor,  and  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  with  many  incohe- 
rent expressions,  dragged  Mr.  Pecksniff  into  an  upright  pos- 
ture. 

"  Pa  !  "  they  cried  in  concert.  "  Pa  !  Speak,  Pa  !  Do 
not  look  so  wild,  my  dearest  Pa  !  " 

But  as  a  gentleman's  looks,  in  such  a  case  of  all  others, 
are  by  no  means  under  his  own  control,  Mr.  Pecksniff  contin- 
ued to  keep  his  mouth  and  his  eyes  very  wide  open,  and  to 
drop  his  lower  jaw,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  a  toy  nut- 
cracker ;  and  as  his  hat  had  fallen  off,  and  his  face  was  pale, 
and  his  hair  erect,  and  his  coat  muddy,  the  spectacle  he 
presented  was  so  very  doleful,  that  neither  of  the  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs could  repress  an  involuntary  screech. 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  I'm  better." 

"  He's  come  to  himself !  "  cried  the  youngest  Miss  Peck- 
sniff. 

"  He  speaks  again  ! "  exclaimed  the  eldest. 

With  these  joyful  words  they  kissed  Mr.  Pecksniff  on 
either  cheek,  and  bore  him  into  the  house.  Presently,  the 
youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  ran  out  again  to  pick  up  his  hat,  his 
brown  paper  parcel,  his  umbrella,  his  gloves,  and  other  small 
articles  ;  and  that  done  and  the  door  closed,  both  young 
ladies  applied  themselves  to  tending  Mr.  Pecksniff's  wounds 
in  the  back  parlor. 

They  were  not  ver^'  serious  in  their  nature,  being  limited 
to  abrasions  on  what  the  eldest  Miss  Pecksniff  called  "  the 
knobby  parts "  of  her  parent's  anatomy,  such  as  his  knees 
and  elbows,  and  to  the  development  of  an  entirely  new  organ, 
unknown  to  phrenologists,  on  the  back  of  his  head.  These 
injuries  having  been  comforted  externally,  with  patches  of 
pickled  brown  paper,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  having  been  comforted 

2 


i8  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

internally,  with  some  stiff  brandy-and-water,  the  eldest  Miss 
Pecksniff  sat  down  to  make  the  tea,  which  was  all  ready.  In 
the  meantime  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  brought  from  the 
kitchen  a  smoking  dish  of  ham  and  eggs,  and,  setting  the  same 
before  her  father,  took  up  her  station  on  a  low  stool  at  his 
feet,  thereby  bringing  her  eyes  on  a  level  with  the  teaboard. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  position  of  humility,  that 
the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  was  so  young  as  to  be,  as  one 
may  say,  forced  to  sit  upon  a  stool,  by  reason  of  the  shortness 
of  her  legs.  Miss  Pecksniff  sat  upon  a  stool,  because  of  her 
simplicity  and  innocence,  which  were  very  great — very  great. 
Miss  Pecksniff  sat  upon  a  stool,  because  she  was  all  girlish- 
ness,  and  playfulness,  and  wildness,  and  kittenish  buoyancy. 
She,  was  the  most  arch  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  artless 
creature,  was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff,  that  you  can  possibly 
imagine.  It  was  her  great  charm.  She  was  too  fresh  and 
guileless,  and  too  full  of  child-like  vivacity,  was  the  youngest 
Miss  Pecksniff,  to  wear  combs  in  her  hair,  or  to  turn  it  up,  or 
to  frizzle  it,  or  braid  it.  She  wore  it  in  a  crop,  a  loosely  flow- 
ing crop,  which  had  so  many  rows  of  curls  in  it,  that  the  top 
row  was  only  one  curl.  Moderately  buxom  was  her  shape, 
and  quite  womanly  too  ;  but  sometimes — yes,  sometimes — 
she  even  wore  a  pinafore  ;  antl  how  charming  that  was  !  Oh  ! 
she  was  indeed  "  a  gushing  thing"  (as  a  young  gentleman  had 
observed  in  verse,  in  the  Poet's-corner  of  a  provincial  news- 
paper), was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  moral  man — a  grave  man,  a  man  of 
noble  sentiments,  and  speech  ;  and  he  had  had  her  christened 
Mercy.  Mercy  !  oh,  what  a  charming  name  for  such  a  pure- 
souled  being  as  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  !  Her  sister's 
name  was  Charity.  There  was  a  good  thing  !  Mercy  and 
Charity  !  And  Charity  with  her  fine  strong  sense,  and  her 
mild,  yet  not  reproachful  gravity,  was  so  well  named,  and  did 
so  well  set  off  and  illustrate  her  sister  !  What  a  pleasant 
sight  was  that,  the  contrast  they  presented :  to  see  each  love 
'  and  loving  one  S3aTipathizing  with  and  devoted  to,  and  leaning 
on,  and  yet  correcting  and  counter-checking,  and,  as  it  were,  an- 
tidoting  the  other  !  To  behold  each  damsel,  in  her  very  admi- 
ration of  her  sister,  setting  up  in  business  for  herself  on  an  en- 
tirely different  principle,  and  announcing  no  connection  with 
over-the-way,  and  if  the  quality  of  goods  at  that  establishment 
don't  please  you,  you  are  respectfully  invited  to  favor  me 
with  a  call  !     .Vnd  tlie  crowning   circumstance  of  the  whole 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 9 

delightful  catalogue  was,  that  both  the  fair  creatures  were  so 
utterly  unconscious  of  all  this  !  They  had  no  idea  of  it.  They 
no  more  thought  or  dreamed  of  it,  than  Mr.  Pecksniff  did. 
Nature  played  them  off  against  each  other  :  they  had  no  hand 
in  it,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  moral  man. 
So  he  was.  Perhaps  there  never  was  a  more  moral  man  than 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  especially  in  his  conversation  and  correspond- 
ence. It  was  once  said  of  him  by  a  homely  admirer,  that  he 
had  a  Fortunatus's  purse  of  good  sentiments  in  his  inside.  In 
this  particular  he  was  like  the  girl  in  the  fairy  tale,  except  that 
if  they  were  not  actual  diamonds  which  fell  from  his  lips,  they 
were  the  very  brightest  paste,  and  shone  prodigiously.  He 
was  a  most  exemplary  man  :  fuller  of  virtuous  precept  than  a 
copy-book.  Sowie  people  likened  him  to  a  direction-post, 
which  is  always  telling  the  way  to  a  place,  and  never  goes 
there  ;  but  these  were  his  enemies — the  shadows  cast  by  his 
brightness — that  was  all.  His  very  throat  was  moral.  You 
saw  a  good-deal  of  it.  You  looked  over  a  very  low  fence  of 
white  cravat  (whereof  no  man  had  ever  beheld  the  tie,  for  he 
fastened  it  behind),  and  there  it  lay,  a  valley  between  two  jut- 
ting heights  of  collar,  serene  and  whiskerless  before  you.  It 
seemed  to  say,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  I^ecksniff,  "  There  is  no 
deception,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  all  is  peace,  a  holy  calm  per- 
vades me."  So  did  his  hair,  just  grizzled  with  an  iron- 
gray,  which  was  all  brushed  off  his  forehead,  and  stood  bolt 
upright,  or  slightly  drooped  in  kindred  action  with  his  heavy 
eyelids.  So  did  his  person,  which  was  sleek  though  free  from 
corpulency.  So  did  his  manner,  which  was  soft  and  oily.  In 
a  word,  even  his  plain  black  suit,  and  state  of  widower,  and 
dangling  double  eye-glass,  all  tended  to  the  same  purpose,  and 
cried  aloud,  "  Toehold  the  moral  Pecksniff  !  " 

The  brazen  plate  upon  the  door  (which  being  Mr.  Peck- 
niff's,  could  not  lie)  bore  this  inscription,  "Pecksniff,  Ar- 
chitect," to  which  Mr.  Pecksniff,  on  his  cards  of  business 
added,  "and  Land  Surveyor."  In  one  sense,  and  only  one, 
he  maybe  said  to  have  been  a  Land  Sur\^eyor  on  a  pretty  large 
scale,  as  an  extensive  prospect  lay  stretched  out  before  the 
windows  of  his  house.  Of  his  arcliitectural  doings,  nothing  was 
clearly  known,  except  that  he  iiad  never  designed  or  built  any- 
thing ;  but  it  was  generally  understood  that  his  knowledge  of 
the  science  was  almost  awful  in  its  profundity. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  professional  engagements,  indeed,  were  al- 


20  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

most,  if  not  entirely,  confined  to  the  reception  of  pupils ;  for 
the  collection  of  rents,  with  which  pursuit  he  occasionally  varied 
and  relieved  his  graver  toils,  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  a  strictly 
architectural  employment.  His  genius  lay  in  ensnaring  parents 
and  guardians,  and  pocketing  premiums.  A  young  gentleman's 
premium  being  paid,  and  the  young  gentleman  come  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  house,  Mr.  Pecksniff  borrowed  his  case  of  mathe- 
matical instruments  (if  silver-mounted  or  otherwise  valuable) ; 
entreated  him,  from  that  moment,  to  consider  himself  one  of  the 
family  ;  complimented  him  highly  on  his  parents  or  guardians, 
as  the  case  might  be,  and  turned  him  loose  in  a  spacious  room 
on  the  two-pair  front,  where,  in  the  company  of  certain  draw- 
ing-boards, parallel  rulers,  very  stiff-legged  compasses,  and  two, 
or  perhaps  three,  other  young  gentlemen,  he  improved  himself, 
for  three  or  five  years,  according  to  his  articles,  in  making  ele- 
vations of  Salisbury  Cathedral  from  every  possible  point  of 
sight ;  and  in  constructing  in  the  air  a  vast  quantit}'  of  Castles, 
Houses  of  Parliament,  and  other  Public  Buildings.  Perhaps 
in  no  place  in  the  world  were  so  many  gorgeous  edifices  of 
this  class  erected  as  under  Mr.  Pecksniff's  auspices  ;  and  if 
but  one-twentieth  part  of  the  churches  which  were  built  in 
that  front  room,  with  one  or  othei  of  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  at 
the  altar  in  the  act  of  marrying  the  architect,  could  only  be 
made  available  by  the  parliamentar}^  commissioners,  no  more 
churches  would  be  wanted  for  at  least  five  centuries. 

"  Even  the  worldly  goods  of  which  we  have  just  disposed," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff  glancing  round  the  table  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, "  even  cream,  sugar,  tea,  toast,  ham, — " 

"  And  eggs,"  suggested  Charity  in  a  low  voice, 

"  And  eggs,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  even  they  have  their 
moral.  See  how  they  come  and  go  !  Every  pleasure  is  tran- 
sitor)\  We  can't  even  eat,  long.  If  we  indulge  in  harmless 
fluids,  we  get  the  dropsy ;  if  in  exciting  liquids,  we  get  drunk. 
What  a  soothing  reflection  is  that !  " 

"  Don't  say  we  get  drunk.  Pa,"  urged  the  eldest  Miss  Peck- 
sniff. 

"When  I  say  we,  my  dear,"  returned  her  father,  "  I  mean 
mankind  in  general  ;  the  human  race,  considered  as  a  body,  and 
not  as  individuals.  There  is  nothing  personal  in  morality,  my 
love.  Even  such  a  thing  as  this,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  laying  the 
fore-finger  of  his  left  hand  upon  the  brown  paper  patch  on  the 
top  of  his  head,  "  slight  casual  baldness  though  it  be,  reminds 
us  that  we  are  but  " — he  was  going  to  say  "  worms,"   but  rec- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  21 

ollecting  that  worms  were  not  remarkable  for  heads  of  hair, 
he  substituted  "  flesh  and  blood." 

"  Which,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  after  a  pause,  during  wliich 
he  seemed  to  have  been  casting  about  for  a  new  moral,  and  not 
quite  successfully,  "  which  is  also  very  soothing.  Mercy,  my 
dear,  stir  the  fire  and  throw  up  the  cinders." 

The  young  lady  obeyed,  and  having  done  so,  resumed  her 
stool,  reposed  one  arm  upon  her  father's  knee,  and  laid  her 
blooming  cheek  upon  it.  Miss  Charity  drew  her  chair  nearer 
the  fire,  as  one  prepared  for  conversation,  and  looked  towards 
her  father. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  short  pause,  during  which 
he  had  been  silently  smiling,  and  shaking  his  head  at  the  fire  ; 
"  I  have  again  been  fortunate  in  the  attainment  of  my  object. 
A  new  inmate  will  very  shortly  come  among  us." 

"  A  youth,  papa  ?  "  asked  Charity. 

"  Ye-es,  a  youth,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  He  will  avail  him- 
self of  the  eligible  opportunity  which  now  offers,  for  uniting  the 
advantages  of  the  best  practical  architectural  education,  with  the 
comforts  of  a  home,  and  the  constant  association  with  some  who 
(however  humble  their  sphere,  and  limited  their  capacity)  are 
not  unmindful  of  their  moral  responsibilities." 

"  Oh  Pa  !  "  cried  Mercy,  holding  up  her  finger  archly.  "  See 
advertisement !" 

"Playful — playful  warbler,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  It  maybe 
observed  in  connection  with  his  calling  his  daughter  "  a  war- 
bler," that  she  was  not  at  all  vocal,  but  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was 
in  the  frequent  habit  of  using  any  word  that  occurred  to  him  as 
having  a  good  sound,  and  rounding  a  sentence  well,  without 
much  care  for  its  meaning.  And  he  did  this  so  boldly,  and  in 
such  an  imposing  manner,  that  he  would  sometimes  stagger 
the  wisest  people  with  his  eloquence,  and  make  them  gasp 
again. 

His  enemies  asserted,  by  the  way,  that  a  strong  trustfulness 
in  sounds  and  forms,  was  the  master-key  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
character. 

"  Is  he  handsome.  Pa  ?"  inquired  the  younger  daughter. 

"  Silly  Merry  !  "  said  the  eldest — Merry  being  fond  for 
Mercy.     "  What  is  the  premium.  Pa  ?  tell  us  that." 

"  Oh  good  gracious.  Cherry  !  "  cried  Miss  Mercy,  holding 
up  her  hands  with  the  most  winning  giggle  in  the  world,  "  what 
a  mercenaiy  girl  you  are  !  oh  you  naughty,  thoughtful,  prudent 
thing !  " 


22  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

It  was  perfectly  charming,  and  worthy  of  the  Pastoral  age, 
to  see  how  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  slapped  each  other  after 
this,  and  then  subsided  into  an  embrace  expressive  of  their 
different  dispositions. 

"  He  is  well  looking,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly :  "  well  looking  enough.  I  do  not  positively  expect  any 
immediate  premium  with  him." 

Notwithstanding  their  different  natures,  both  Charity  and 
Mercy  concurred  in  opening  their  eyes  uncommonly  wide  at 
this  announcement,  and  in  looking  for  the  moment  as  blank 
as  if  their  thoughts  had  actually  had  a  direct  bearing  on  the 
main-chance. 

"  But  what  of  that !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  still  smiling  at  the 
fire.  "  There  is  disinterestedness  in  the  world,  I  hope  t  We 
are  not  all  arrayed  in  two  opposite  ranks  :  the  ^tensive  and 
the  rtit'fensive.  Some  few  there  are  who  walk  between  ;  who 
help  the  needy  as  they  go ;  and  take  no  part  with  either  side  ? 
Umph  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  these  morsels  of  philanthropy  which 
reassured  the  sisters.  They  exchanged  glances,  and  brightened 
very  much. 

"  Oh  !  let  us  not  be  for  ever  calculating,  devising,  and  plot- 
ting for  the  future,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  more  and  more, 
and  looking  at  the  fire  as  a  man  might,  who  was  cracking  a 
joke  with  it  :  "1  am  weary  of  such  arts.  If  our  inclinations 
are  but  good  and  open-hearted,  let  us  gratify  them  boldly, 
though  they  bring  upon  us,  Loss  instead  of  Profit.  Eh, 
Charity  ?  " 

Glancins:  towards  his  dauohters  for  the  first  time  since  he 
had  begun  these  reflections,  and  seeing  that  they  both  smiled, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  eyed  them  for  an  instant  so  jocosely  (though 
still  with  a  kind  of  saintly  waggishness)  that  the  younger  one  was 
moved  to  sit  upon  his  knee  forthwith,  put  her  fair  arms  round 
his  neck,  and  kiss  him  twenty  times.  During  the  whole  of  this 
affectionate  display  she  laughed  to  a  most  immoderate  extent : 
in  which  hilarious  indulgence  even  the  prudent  Cherry  joined. 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pushing  his  latest-born  away 
and  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  as  he  resumed  his 
■".ranquil  face.  "  What  folly  is  this  !  Let  us  take  heed  how  we 
laugh  without  reason,  lest  we  cr}Mvith  it.  What  is  the  domes- 
tic news  since  yesterday  ?     John  Westlock  is  gone,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Indeed  no,"  said  Charity. 

"  And  why  not } "  returned  her  father.    "  His  term  expired 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  23 

yesterday.     And  his  box  was  packed,  I  know ;  for  I  saw  it, 
in  the  morning,  standing  in  the  hall." 

"  He  slept  last  night  at  the  Dragon,"  returned  the  young 
lady,  "  and  had  Mr.  Pinch  to  dine  with  him.  They  spent  the 
evening  together,  and  Mr.  Pinch  was  not  home  till  very  late." 

"  And  when  I  saw  him  on  the  stairs  this  morning.  Pa," 
said  Mercy  with  her  usual  sprightliness,  "  he  looked,  oh  good- 
ness, such  a  monster !  with  his  face  all  manner  of  colors, 
and  his  eyes  as  dull  as  if  they  had  been  boiled,  and  his  head 
aching  dreadfully,  I  am  sure  from  the  look  of  it,  and  his  clothes 
smelling,  oh  it's  impossible  to  say  how  strong,  of  " — here  the 
young  lady  shuddered — "  of  smoke  and  punch." 

"  Now  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  accustomed 
gentleness,  though  still  with  the  air  of  one  who  suffered  under 
injury  without  complaint,  "  I  think  Mr.  Pinch  might  have 
done  better  thaTi  choose  for  his  companion  one  who,  at  the 
close  of  a  long  intercourse,  had  endeavored,  as  he  knew,  to 
wound  my  feelings.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  this  was  delicate 
in  Mr.  Pinch.  I  am  nor  quite  sure  that  this  was  kind  in  Mr. 
Pinch.  I  will  go  further  and  say,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that 
this  was  even  ordinarily  grateful  in  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  But  what  can  anyone  expect  from  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  cried 
Charity,  with  as  strong  and  scornful  an  emphasis  on  the  name 
as  if  it  would  have  given  her  unspeakable  pleasure  to  express 
it,  in  an  acted  charade,  on  the  calf  of  that  gentleman's  leg. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  returned  her  father,  raising  his  hand  mildly  : 
"  it  is  very  well  to  say  what  can  we  expect  from  Mr.  Pinch,  but 
Mr.  Pinch  is  a  fellow-creature,  my  dear ;  Mr.  Pinch  is  an  item 
in  the  vast  total  of  humanity,  my  love  ;  and  we  have  a  right,  it 
is  our  duty,  to  expect  in  Mr.  Pinch  some  development  of  those 
better  qualities,  the  possession  of  which  in  our  own  persons 
inspires  our  humble  self-respect.  No,"  continued  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff. "  No  !  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  say,  nothing  can 
be  expected  from  Mr.  Pinch ;  or  that  I  should  say,  nothing 
can  be  expected  from  any  man  alive  (even  the  most  degraded, 
which  Mr.  Pinch  is  not,  no  really)  ;  but  Mr.  Pinch  has  disap- 
pointed me  :  he  has  hurt  me  :  I  think  a  little  the  worse  of  him 
on  this  account,  but  not  of  human  nature.     Oh  no,  no  !  " 

"  Hark !  "  said  Miss  Charity,  holding  up  her  finger,  as  a 
gentle  rap  was  heard  at  the  street-door.  "  There  is  the  crea- 
ture !  Now  mark  my  words,  he  has  come  back  with  John 
Westlock  for  his  box,  and  is  going  to  help  him  to  take  it  to 
the  mail.     Only  mark  my  words,  if   that  isn't  his  intention  !  " 


24  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  box  appeared  to  be  in  progress  or 
conveyance  from  the  house,  but  after  a  brief  murmuring  of 
question  and  answer,  it  was  put  down  again,  and  somebody 
knocked  at  the  parlor  door. 

"  Come  in  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff — not  severely  ;  only 
virtuously.     "  Come  in  !  " 

An  ungainly,  awkward-looking  man,  extremely  short- 
sighted, and  prematurely  bald,  availed  himself  of  this  permis- 
sion ;  and  seeing  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  sat  with  his  back  towards 
him,  gazing  at  the  fire,  stood  hesitating,  with  the  door  in  his 
hand.  He  was  far  from  handsome  certainly ;  and  was  drest 
in  a  snuff-colored  suit,  of  an  uncouth  make  at  the  best,  which, 
being  shrunk  with  long  wear,  was  twisted  and  tortured  into 
all  kinds  of  odd  shapes  ;  but  notwithstanding  his  attire,  and 
his  clumsy  figure,  which  a  great  stoop  in  his  shoulders,  and  a 
ludicrous  habit  he  had  of  thrusting  his  head  forward,  by  no 
means  redeemed,  one  would  not  have  been  disposed  (unless 
Mr.  Pecksniff  said  so)  to  consider  him  a  bad  fellow  by  any 
means.  He  was  perhaps  about  thirty,  but  he  might  have 
been  almost  any  age  between  sixteen  and  sixty  :  being  one  of 
those  strange  creatures  who  never  decline  into  an  ancient 
appearance,  but  look  their  oldest  when  they  are  very  young, 
and  get  it  over  at  once. 

Keeping  his  hand  upon  the  lock  of  the  door,  he  glanced 
from  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  Mercy,  from  Mercy  to  Charity,  and 
from  Charity  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  again,  several  times  ;  but  the 
young  ladies  being  as  intent  upon  the  fire  as  their  father  was, 
and  neither  of  the  three  taking  any  notice  of  him,  he  was  fain 
to  say,  at  last, 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pecksniff :  I  beg  your  par-' 
don  for  intruding  \  but — " 

"No  intrusion,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  that  gentleman  very 
sweetly,  but  without  looking  round.  "  Pray  be  seated,  Mr. 
Pinch.  Have  the  goodness  to  shut  the  door,  Mr.  Pinch,  if  you 
please." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Pinch :  not  doing  so,  however,  but 
holding  it  rather  wider  open  than  before,  and  beckoning  ner- 
vously to  somebody  without :  "  Mr.  Westlock,  sir,  hearing 
that. you  were  come  home — " 

"  Mr.  Pinch,  Mr.  Pinch !  "  said  Pecksniff,  wheeling  his 
chair  about,  and  looking  at  him  with  an  aspect  of  the  deepest 
melancholy,  "  I  did  not  expect  this  from  you.  I  have  not 
deserved  this  from  you  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  25 

"  No,  but  upon  my  word,  sir  " — urged  Pinch, 

"The  less  you  say,  Mr.  Pinch,"  interposed  the  other,  "the 
better.     I  utter  no  complaint.     Make  no  defence." 

"  No,  but  do  have  the  goodness,  sir,"  cried  Pinch,  with 
great  earnestness,  "if  you  please.  Mr.  Westlock,  sir,  going 
away  for  good  and  all,  wishes  to  leave  none  but  friends  behind 
him.  Mr.  Westlock  and  you,  sir,  had  a  little  difference  the 
other  day  ;  you  have  had  many  little  differences." 

"  Little  differences  I  "  cried  Charity. 

"  Little  differences  !  "  echoed  Mercy. 

"My  loves!"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  the  same  serene 
upraising  of  his  hand  ;  "  my  dears  !  "  After  a  solemn  pause 
he  meekly  bowed  to  Mr.  Pinch,  as  who  should  say,  "  Pro- 
ceed ; "  but  Mr.  Pinch  was  so  very  much  at  a  loss  how  to 
resume,  and  looked  so  helplessly  at  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs, 
that  the  conversation  would  most  probably  have  terminated 
there,  if  a  good-looking  youth,  newly  arrived  at  man's  estate, 
had  not  stepped  forward  from  the  doorway  and  taken  up  the 
thread  of  the  discourse. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  don't  let 
there  be  any  ill-blood  between  us,  pray.  I  am  sorry  we  have 
ever  differed,  and  extremely  sorry  1  have  ever  given  you 
offence.     Bear  me  no  ill-will  at  parting,  sir." 

"  I  bear,"  answered  Mr.  Picksniff,  mildly,  "  no  ill-will  to 
any  man  on  earth." 

"  I  told  you  he  didn't,"  said  Pinch,  in  an  undertone  ;  "  I 
knew  he  didn't !     Pie  always  says  he  don't." 

"Then  you  will  shake  hands,  sir?"  cried  Westlock,  ad- 
vancing a  step  or  two,  and  bespeaking  Mr.  Pinch's  close  at- 
tention by  a  glance. 

"  Umph  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  most  winning  tone. 

"  You  will  shake  hands,  sir." 

"No,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a  calmness  quite 
ethereal  ;  "  no,  I  will  not  shake  hands,  John.  1  have  forgiven 
you.  I  had  already  forgiven  you,  even  before  you  ceased  to 
reproach  and  taunt  me.  I  have  embraced  you  in  the  spirit, 
John,  which  is  better  than  shaking  hands." 

"  Pinch,"  said  the  youth,  turning  towards  him,  with  a 
hearty  disgust  of  his  late  master,  "  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  " 

Poor  Pinch  looked  down  uneasily  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  whose 
eye  was  fixed  upon  him  as  it  had  been  from  the  first :  and 
looking  up  at  the  ceiling  again,  made  no  reply. 

"As  to  your  forgiveness,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  the  youth. 
"  I'll  not  have  it  upon  such  terms.     I  won't  be  forgiven." 


26  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Won't  you,  John  ?  "  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  smile. 
"  You  must.  You  can't  help  it.  Forgiveness  is  a  high 
quality  ;  an  exalted  virtue  ;  far  above  your  control  or  influ- 
ence, John.  I  will  forgive  you.  You  cannot  move  me  to 
remember  any  wrong  you  have  ever  done  me,  John." 

"  Wrong  !  "  cried  the  other,  with  all  the  heat  and  impetu- 
osity of  his  age.  "  Here's  a  pretty'  fellow  !  Wrong  !  Wrong 
I  have  done  him !  He'll  not  even  remember  the  five  hundred 
pounds  he  had  with  me  under  false  pretences  ;  or  the  seventy 
pounds  a-year  for  board  and  lodging  that  would  have  been 
dear  at  seventeen  !     Here's  a  martyr !  " 

"  Money,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is  the  root  of  all 
evil.  I  grieve  to  see  that  it  is  already  bearing  evil  fruit  in 
you.  But  I  will  not  remember  its  existence.  I  will  not  even 
remember  the  conduct  of  that  misguided  person  " — and  here, 
although  he  spoke  like  one  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  he  used 
an  emphasis  that  plainly  said  '  I  have  my  eye  upon  the  rascal 
now ' — "  that  misguided  person  who  has  brought  you  here  to- 
night, seeking  to  disturb  (it  is  a  happiness  to  say,  in  vain)  the 
heart's  repose  and  peace  of  one  who  would  have  shed  his 
dearest  blood  to  serve  him." 

The  voice  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  trembled  as  he  spoke,  and  sobs 
were  heard  from  his  daughters.  Sounds  floated  on  the  air, 
moreover,  as  if  two  spirit  voices  had  exclaimed  :  one,  "  Beast !  " 
the  other,  "  Savage  !  " 

"Forgiveness,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "entire  and  pure  for- 
giveness is  not  incompatible  with  a  wounded  heart ;  perchance 
when  the  heart  is  wounded,  it  becomes  a  greater  virtue. 
With  my  breast  still  wrung  and  grieved  to  its  inmost  core  by 
the  ingratitude  of  that  person,  I  am  proud  and  glad  to  say, 
that  I  forgive  him.  Nay !  I  beg,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff',  raising 
his  voice,  as  Pinch  appeared  about  to  speak,  "  I  beg  that  in- 
dividual not  to  offer  a  remark  ;  he  will  truly  oblige  me  by  not 
uttering  one  word,  just  now.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  equal 
to  the  trial.  In  a  very  short  space  of  time,  I  shall  have  suffi- 
cient fortitude,  I  trust,  to  converse  with  him  as  if  these  events 
had  never  happened.  But  not,"  said  Mr.  Picksniff,  turning 
round  again  towards  the  fire,  and  waving  his  hand  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  door,  "  not  now." 

"  Bah  ! "  cried  John  Westlock,  with  the  utmost  disgust  and 
disdain  the  monosyllable  is  capable  of  expressing.  "  Ladies, 
good  evening.  Come,  Pinch,  it's  not  worth  thinking  of.  I  was 
right  and  you  were  wrong.  That's  a  small  matter  ;  you'll  be 
wiser  another  time." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


27 


So  saying,  he  clapped  that  dejected  companion  on  the 
shoulder,  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  walked  out  into  the  passage 
whither  poor  Mr.  Pinch,  after  lingering  irresolutely  in  the  parlor 
for  a  few  seconds,  expressing  in  his  countenance  the  deepest 
mental  misery  and  gloom,  followed  him.  Then  they  took  up 
the  box  between  them,  and  sallied  out  to  meet  the  mail. 

That  fleet  conveyance  passed,  every  night,  the  corner  of  a 
lane  at  some  distance  ;  towards  which  point  they  bent  their 
steps.  For  some  minutes  they  walked  along  in  silence,  until 
at  length  young  Westlock  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  at  in- 
tervals into  another,  and  another.  Still  there  was  no  response 
from  his  companion. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Pinch  !  "  he  said  abruptly,  after  another 
lengthened  silence — "  You  haven't  half  enough  of  the  devil  in 
you.     Half  enough  !     You  haven't  any." 

"  Well !  "  said  Pinch  with  a  sigh,  "  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure. 
It's  a  compliment  to  say  so.  If  I  haven't,  1  suppose,  I'm  all 
the  better  for  it." 

"  All  the  better  !  "  repeated  his  companion  tartly  :  "  all 
the  worse,  you  mean  to  say." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Pinch,  pursuing  his  own  thoughts  and  not 
this  last  remark  on  the  part  of  his  friend,  "  I  must  have  a  good 
deal  of  what  you  call  the  devil  in  me,  too,  or  how  could  I  make 
Pecksniff  so  uncomfortable  ?  I  wouldn't  have  occasioned  him 
so  much  distress — don't  laugh,  please — for  a  mine  of  money : 
and  Heaven  knows  I  could  find  good  use  for  it  too,  John.  How 
grieved  he  was  !  " 

"  He  grieved  !  "  returned  the  other, 

"  Why  didn't  you  observe  that  the  tears  were  almost  start- 
ing out  of  his  eyes  !  "  cried  Pinch.  "  Bless  my  soul,  John,  is 
it  nothing  to  see  a  man  moved  to  that  extent  and  know  one's 
self  to  be  the  cause  !  and  did  you  hear  him  say  that  he  could 
have  shed  his  blood  for  me  ?  " 

"  Do  you  We?;// any  blood  shed  for  you  ?  "  returned  his  friend, 
with  considerable  irritation.  "  Does  he  shed  anything  for  you 
that  you  do  want  ?  Does  he  shed  employment  for  you,  in- 
struction for  you,  pocket-money  for  you  ?  Does  he  shed  even 
legs  of  mutton  for  you  in  any  decent  proportion  to  potatoes 
and  garden  stuff  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Pinch,  sigliing  again,  "  that  I  am  a 
great  eater  :  I  can't  disguise  from  myself  that  I'm  a  great 
eater.     Now,  you  know  that,  John." 

"  You  a  great  eater  !  "  retorted  his  companion,  with  no 


28  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


less   indignation    than   before.     "  How   do    you   know   you 
are  ? " 

There  appeared  to  be  forcible  matter  in  this  inquir}-,  for  Mr. 
Pinch  only  repeated  in  an  undertone  that  he  had  a  strong 
misgiving  on  the  subject,  and  that  he  greatly  feared  he  was  : 

"  Besides,  whether  I  am  or  no,"  he  added,  "  that  has  little 
or  nothing  to  do  with  his  thinking  me  ungrateful.  John,  there 
is  scarcely  a  sin  in  the  world  that  is  in  my  eyes  such  a  crying 
one  as  ingratitude  ;  and  when  he  taxes  me  with  that,  and  be- 
lieves me  to  be  guilty  of  it,  he  makes  me  miserable  and 
wretched." 

"  Do  you  think  he  don't  know  that .-'  "  returned  the  other 
scornfully.  "  But  come.  Pinch,  before  I  say  anything  more  to 
you,  I  must  run  over  the  reasons  you  have  for  being  grateful  to 
him  at  all,  will  you  ?  change  hands  first,  for  the  box  is  heavy. 
That'll  do.     Now,  go  on." 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Pinch,  "  he  took  me  as  his  pupil 
for  much  less  than  he  asked." 

"  Well,"  rejoined  his  friend,  perfectly  unmoved  by  this 
instance  of  generosity.     "  What  in  the  second  place  ?  " 

"  What  in  the  second  place  !  "  cried  Pinch,  in  a  sort  of 
desperation,  "  why,  everything  in  the  second  place.  My  poor 
old  grandmother  died  happy  to  tliink  that  she  had  put  me 
with  such  an  excellent  man.  I  have  grown  up  in  his  house,  I 
am  in  his  confidence,  I  am  his  assistant,  he  allows  me  a 
salary  :  when  his  business  improves,  my  prospects  are  to  im- 
prove too.  All  this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  is  in  the  second 
place.  And  in  the  very  prologue  and  preface  to  the  first 
place,  John,  you  must  consider  this,  which  nobody  knows 
better  than  I  :  that  I  was  born  for  much  plainer  and  poorer 
things,  that  I  am  not  a  good  hand  for  his  kind  of  business, 
and  have  no  talent  for  it,  or  indeed  for  anything  else  but 
odds  and  ends  that  are  of  no  use  or  service  to  anybody." 

He  said  this  with  so  much  earnestness,  and  in  a  tone  so 
full  of  feeling,  that  his  companion  instinctively  changed  his 
manner  as  he  sat  down  on  the  box  (they  had  by  this  time 
reached  the  finger-post  at  the  end  of  the  lane)  ;  motioned  him 
to  sit  down  beside  him  ;  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  I  believe  you  are  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world," 
he  said,  "  Tom  Pinch." 

"  Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Tom.  "  If  you  only  knew  Peck- 
sniff as  well  as  I  do,  you  might  say  it  of  him,  indeed,  and  say 
it  truly." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


29 


"I'll  say  anything  of  him,  you  like,"  returned  the  other, 
"  and  not  another  word  to  his  disparagement." 

"  It's  for  my  sake,  then  ;  not  his,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Pinch, 
shaking  his  head  gravely. 

"  For  whose  you  please,  Tom,  so  that  it  does  please  you. 
Oh  !  He's  a  famous  fellow  !  He  never  scraped  and  clawed 
into  his  pouch  all  your  poor  grandmother's  hard  savings- 
she  was  a  housekeeper,  wasn't  she,  Tom  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  nursing  one  of  his  large  knees,  and 
nodding  his  head  :  "  a  gentleman's  housekeeper." 

"  He  never  scraped  and  clawed  into  his  pouch  all  her  hard 
savings  ;  dazzling  her  with  prospects  of  your  happiness  and 
advancement,  which  he  knew  (and  no  man  better)  never  would 
be  realized  !  He  never  speculated  and  traded  on  her  pride  in 
you,  and  her  having  educated  you,  and  on  her  desire  that  you 
at  least  should  live  to  be  a  gentleman.     Not  he,  Tom  ! " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  looking  into  his  friend's  face,  as  if  he  were 
a  little  doubtful  of  his  meaning;  "  of  course  not." 

"  So  I  say,"  returned  the  youth,  "  of  course  he  never  did. 
He  didn't  take  less  than  he  had  asked,  because  that  less  was 
all  she  had,  and  more  than  he  expected  :  not  he,  Tom !  He 
doesn't  keep  you  as  his  assistant  because  you  are  of  any  use 
to  him  ;  because  your  wonderful  faith  in  his  pretensions  is  of 
inestimable  service  in  all  his  mean  disputes  ;  because  your 
honesty  reflects  honesty  on  him  ;  because  your  wandering  about 
this  little  place  all  your  spare  hours,  reading  in  ancient  books 
and  foreign  tongues,  gets  noised  abroad,  even  as  far  as  Salis- 
bury, making  of  him,  Pecksniff  the  master,  a  man  of  learning 
and  of  vast  importance.  He  gets  no  credit  from  you,  Tom,  not 
he." 

"  Why,  of  course  he  don't,"  said  Pinch,  gazing  at  his  friend 
with  a  more  troubled  aspect  than  before.  "  Pecksniff  get 
credit  from  Mel    Well!  " 

"  Don't  I  say  that  it's  ridiculous,"  rejoined  the  other,"  even 
to  think  of  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Why,  it's  madness,"  said  Tom. 

"  Madness  !  "  returned  young  Westlock.  "  Certainly,  it's 
madness.  Who  but  a  madman  would  suppose  he  cares  to  hear 
it  said  on  Sundays,  that  the  volunteer  who  plays  the  organ  in 
the  church,  and  practises  on  summer  evenings  in  the  dark, 
is  Mr.  Pecksniff's  young  man,  eh,  Tom  .''  Who  but  a  madman 
would  suppose  it  is  the  game  of  such  a  man  as  he,  to  have  his 
name  in  everybody's  mouth,  connected  with  the  thousand  use- 


30  MARTI  A"-  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

less  odds  and  ends  you  do  (and  which,  of  course,  he  taught 
you),  eh,  Tom  ?  Who  but  a  madman  would  suppose  you  adver- 
tised him  hereabouts,  much  cheaper  and  much  better  than  a 
chalker  on  the  walls  could,  eh,  Tom  ?  As  well  might  one  sup- 
pose that  he  doesn't  on  all  occasions  pour  out  his  whole  heart 
and  soul  to  you  ;  that  he  doesn't  make  you  a  very  liberal  and 
indeed  rather  an  extravagant  allowance  ;  or,  to  be  more  wild 
and  monstrous  still,  if  that  be  possible,  as  well  might  one  sup- 
pose," and  here,  at  every  word,  he  struck  him  lightly  on  the 
breast,  "  that  Pecksniff  traded  in  your  nature,  and  that  your 
nature  was,  to  be  timid  and  distrustful  of  yourself,  and  trust- 
ful of  all  other  men,  but  most  of  all,  of  him  who  least  deserves 
it.     There  would  be  madness,  Tom  !  " 

Mr.  Pinch  had  listened  to  all  this  with  looks  of  bewilder- 
ment, which  seemed  to  be  in  part  occasioned  by  the  matter  of 
his  companion's  speech,  and  in  part  by  his  rapid  and  vehement 
manner.  Now  that  he  had  come  to  a  close,  he  drew  a  very 
long  breath  ;  and  gazing  wistfully  in  his  face  as  if  he  were  un- 
able to  settle  in  his  own  mind  what  expression  it  wore,  and 
were  desirous  to  draw  from  it  as  good  a  clue  to  his  real  meaning 
as  it  was  possible  to  obtain  in  the  dark,  was  about  to  answer, 
when  the  sound  of  the  mail  guard's  horn  came  cheerily  upon 
their  ears,  putting  an  immediate  end  to  the  conference  : 
greatly  as  it  seemed  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  younger  man, 
who  jumped  up  briskly,  and  gave  his  hand  to  his  companion. 

"  Both  hands,  Tom.  I  shall  write  to  yoii  from  London, 
mind  ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Pinch.  "Yes.  Do,  please.  Goodbye.  Good 
bye.  I  can  hardly  believe  you're  going.  It  seems,  now,  but 
yesterday  that  you  came.  Good  bye  !  my  dear  old  fellow  !  " 
John  Westlock  returned  his  parting  words  with  no  less  hearti- 
ness of  manner,  and  sprung  up  to  his  seat  upon  the  roof.  Off 
went  the  mail  at  a  canter  down  the  dark  road  :  the  lamps 
gleaming  brightly,  and  the  horn  awakening  all  the  echoes,  far 
and  wide. 

"  Go  your  ways,"  said  Pinch,  apostrophizing  the  coach  : 
"  I  can  hardly  persuade  myself  but  you're  alive,  and  are  some 
great  monster  who  visits  this  place  at  certain  intervals,  to 
bear"  my  friends  away  into  the  world.  You're  more  exulting 
and  rampant  than  usual  tonight,  I  think ;  and  you  may  well 
crow  over  your  prize  ;  for  he  is  a  fine  lad,  an  ingenuous  lad, 
and  has  but  one  fault  that  I  know  of  :  he  don't  mean  it,  but 
he  is  most  cruelly  unjust  to  Pecksniff !  " 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  31 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN     WHICH    CERTAIN     OTHER    PERSONS    ARE    INIRODUCED   :     ON" 
THE    SAME    TERMS    AS    IN    THE    LAST    CHAPTER. 

Mention  has  been  already  made  more  than  once,  of  a  certain 
Dragon  who  swung  and  creaked  complainingly  before  the  vil- 
lage ale-house  door.  A  faded,  and  an  ancient  dragon  he  was  ; 
and  many  a  wintry'  storm  of  rain,  snow,  sleet,  and  hail  had 
changed  his  color  from  a  gaudy  blue  to  a  faint  lack-lustre  shade 
of  gi'ay.  But  there  he  hung,  rearing,  in  a  state  of  monstrous 
imbecility,  on  his  hind  legs  ;  waxing,  with  every  month  that 
passed,  so  much  more  dim  and  shapeless,  that  as  you  gazed 
at  him  on  one  side  of  the  sign-board  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  be 
gradually  melting  through  it,  and  coming  out  upon  the  other. 
He  was  a  courteous  and  considerate  dragon  too ;  or  had  been 
in  his  distincter  days  ;  for  in  the  midst  of  his  rampant  feeble- 
ness, he  kept  one  of  his  fore  paws  near  his  nose,  as  though 
he  would  say,  "  Don't  mind  me — it's  only  my  fun  ;  "  while  he 
held  out  the  other,  in  polite  and  hospitable  entreaty.  Indeed 
it  must  be  conceded  to  the  whole  brood  of  dragons  of  modern 
times,  that  they  have  made  a  great  advance  in  civilization  and 
refinement.  They  no  longer  demand  a  beautiful  virgin  for 
breakfast  every  morning,  with  as  much  regularity  as  any  tame 
single  gentleman  expects  his  hot  roll,  but  rest  content  with  the 
society  of  idle  bachelors  and  roving  married  men  ;  and  they 
are  now  remarkable  rather  for  holding  aloof  from  the  softer  sex 
and  discouraging  their  visits  (especially  on  Saturday  nights), 
than  for  rudely  insisting  on  their  company  without  any  refer- 
ence to  their  inclinations,  as  they  are  known  to  have  done  in 
days  of  yore. 

Nor  is  this  tribute  to  the  reclaimed  animals  in  question,  so 
wide  a  digression  into  the  realms  of  Natural  History,  as  it  may, 
at  first  sight,  appear  to  be  \  for  the  present  business  of  these 
pages  is  with  the  dragon  who  had  his  retreat  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
neighborhood,  and  that  courteous  animal  being  already  on  the 
carpet,  there  is  nothing  in  the  way  of  its  immediate  transaction. 

For  many  years,  then,  he  had  swung  and  creaked,  and  llap- 
ed  himself  about,  before  the  two  windows  of  the  l)est  bed- 
room in  that  house  of  entertainment  to  which  he  lent  his  name  ; 


32  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

but  never  in  all  his  swinging,  creaking,  and  flapping,  had  there 
been  such  a  stir  within  its  ding}'  precincts,  as  on  the  evening 
next  after  that  upon  which  the  incidents,  detailed  in  the  last 
chapter,  occurred  ;  when  there  was  such  a  hurrying  up  and 
down  stairs  of  feet,  such  a  glancing  of  lights,  such  a  whispering 
of  voices,  such  a  smoking  and  sputtering  of  wood  newly  lighted 
in  a  damp  chimney,  such  an  airing  of  linen,  such  a  scorching 
smell  of  hot  warming-pans,  such  a  domestic  bustle  and  to-do, 
in  short,  as  never  dragon,  griffin,  unicorn  or  other  animal  of 
that  species  presided  over,  since  they  first  began  to  interest 
themselves  in  household  affairs. 

An  old  gentleman  and  a  young  lady,  travelling,  unattended, 
in  a  rusty  old  chariot  with  post-horses  ;  coming  nobody  knew 
whence,  and  going  nobody  knew  whither ;  had  turned  out  of 
the  high  road,  and  driven  unexpectedly  to  the  Blue  Dragon  ; 
and  here  was  the  old  gentleman,  who  had  taken  this  step  by 
reason  of  his  sudden  illness  in  the  carriage,  suffering  the  most 
horrible  cramps  and  spasms,  yet  protesting  and  vowing  in  the 
very  midst  of  his  pain,  that  he  wouldn't  have  a  doctor  sent 
for,  and  wouldn't  take  any  remedies  but  those  which  the  young 
lady  administered  from  a  small  medicine-chest,  and  wouldn't, 
in  a  word,  do  anything  but  terrify  the  landlady  out  of  her  five 
wits,  and  obstinately  refuse  compliance  with  every  suggestion 
that  was  made  to  him. 

Of  all  the  five  hundred  proposals  for  his  relief  which  the 
good  woman  poured  out  in  less  than  half-an-hour,  he  would 
entertain  but  one.  That  was,  that  he  should  go  to  bed.  And 
it  was  in  the  preparation  of  his  bed,  and  the  arrangement  of 
his  chamber,  that  all  the  stir  was  made  in  the  room  behind 
the  Dragon. 

He  was,  beyond  all  question,  ver}'  ill,  and  suffered  exceed- 
ingly :  not  the  less,  perhaps,  because  he  was  a  strong  and 
vigorous  old  man,  with  a  will  of  iron,  and  a  voice  of  brass. 
But  neither  the  apprehensions  which  he  plainly  entertained, 
at  times,  for  his  life,  nor  the  great  pain  he  underwent,  influ- 
enced his  resolution  in  the  least  degree.  He  would  have  no 
person  sent  for.  The  worse  he  grew,  the  more  rigid  and  in- 
flexible he  became  in  his  determination.  If  they  sent  for  any 
person  to  attend  him,  man,  woman,  or  child,  he  would  leave 
the  house  directly  (so  he  told  them),  though  he  quitted  it  on 
foot,  and  died  upon  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

Now,  there  being  no  medical  practitioner  actually  resi- 
dent in  the  village  but  a  poor    apothecary,  who  was  also   a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  t^t^ 

grocer  and  general  dealer,  the  landlady  had,  upon  her  own 
responsibility,  sent  for  him,  in  the  very  first  burst  and  outset 
of  the  disaster.  Of  course  it  followed,  as  a  necessary  result 
of  his  being  wanted,  that  he  was  not  at  home.  He  had  gone 
some  miles  away,  and  was  not  expected  home  until  late  at  • 
night  ;  so,  the  landlady,  being  by  this  time  pretty  well  beside 
herself,  despatched  the  same  messenger  in  all  haste  for  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  as  a  learned  man  who  could  bear  a  deal  of  respon- 
sibility, and  a  moral  man  who  could  administer  a  world  of 
comfort  to  a  troubled  mind.  That  her  guest  had  need  of 
some  efiicient  services  under  the  latter  head  was  obvious  enough 
from  the  restless  expressions,  importing,  however,  rather  a 
worldly  than  a  spiritual  anxiety,  to  which  he  gave  frequent 
utterance. 

From  this  last-mentioned  secret  errand  the  messenger 
returned  with  iro  better  new^s  than  from  the  first ;  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff was  not  at  home.  However,  they  got  the  patient  into 
bed  without  him  ;  and  in  the  course  of  two  hours,  he  gradu- 
ally became  so  far  better  that  there  were  much  longer  inter- 
vals than  at  first  between  his  terms  of  suffering.  By  degrees, 
he  ceased  to  suffer  at  all.  though  his  exhaustion  was  occa- 
sionally so  great,  that  it  suggested  hardly  less  alarm  than  his 
actual  endurance  had  done. 

It  was  in  one  of  his  intervals  of  repose,  when,  looking 
round  with  great  caution,  and  reaching  uneasily  out  of  his 
nest  of  pillows,  he  endeavored,  with  a  strange  air  of  secrecy  and 
distrust,  to  make  use  of  the  writing  materials  which  he  had 
ordered  to  be  placed  on  a  table  beside  him,  that  the  young 
lady  and  the  mistress  of  the  Llue  Dragon,  found  themselves 
sitting  side  by  side  before  the  fire  in  the  sick  chamber. 

This  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon  was  in  outward  appear- 
ance just  what  a  landlady  should  be  :  broad,  buxom,  comfort- 
able, and  good-looking,  with  a  face  of  clear  red  and  white, 
which,  by  its  jovial  aspect,  at  once  bore  testimony  to  her 
hearty  participation  in  the  good  things  of  the  larder  and  cel- 
lar, and  to  their  thriving  and  healthful  influences.  She  was 
a  widow,  but  years  ago  had  passed  through  her  state  of  weeds, 
and  burst  into  flower  again  ;  and  in  full  bloom  she  had  con- 
tinued ever  since  ;  and  in  full  bloom  she  was  now ;  with 
roses  on  her  ample  skirts,  and  roses  on  her  boddice,  roses  in 
her  cap,  roses  in  her  cheeks, — ay,  and  roses,  worth  the  gather- 
ing too,  on  her  lips,  for  that  matter.  She  had  still  a  bright 
black  eye,  and  jet   black  hair  ;  was  comely,  dimpled,  plump, 

3 


34  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

and  tight  as  a  gooseberry  ;  and  though  she  was  not  exactly 
what  the  world  calls  young,  you  may  make  an  affidavit,  on 
trust,  before  any  mayor  or  magistrate  in  Christendom,  that 
there  are  a  great  many  young  ladies  in  the  world  (blessings  on 
them,  one  and  all  !)  whom  you  wouldn't  like  half  as  well,  or  ad- 
mire half  as  much,  as  the  beaming  hostess  of  the  Blue  Dragon. 

As  this  fair  matron  sat  beside  the  fire,  she  glanced  occa- 
sionally, with  all  the  pride  of  ownership,  about  the  room  ; 
which  was  a  large  apartment,  such  as  one  may  see  in  country 
places,  with  a  low  roof  and  a  sunken  flooring,  all  down-hill 
from  the  door,  and  a  descent  of  two  steps  on  the  inside  so 
exquisitely  unexpected,  that  strangers,  despite  the  most  elab- 
orate cautioning,  usually  dived  in  head-first,  as  into  a  plung- 
ing-bath. It  was  none  of  your  frivolous  and  preposterously 
bright  bedrooms,  where  nobody  can  close  an  eye  with  any 
kind  of  propriety  or  decent  regard  to  the  association  of  ideas  • 
but  it  was  a  good,  dull,  leaden,  drowsy  place,  where  every  ar- 
ticle of  furniture  reminded  you  that  you  came  there  to  sleep, 
and  that  you  were  expected  to  go  to  sleep.  There  was  no 
wakeful  reflection  of  the  fire  there,  as  in  vour  modern  cham- 
bers,  which  upon  the  darkest  nights  have  a  watchful  conscious- 
ness of  French  polish  ;  the  old  Spanish  mahogany  winked  at 
it  now  and  then,  as  a  dozing  cat  or  dog  might,  nothing  more. 
The  very  size  and  shape,  and  hopeless  immovability,  of  the 
bedstead,  and  wardrobe,  and  in  a  minor  degree  of  even  the 
chairs  and  tables,  provoked  sleep  ;  they  were  plainly  apoplec- 
tic and  disposed  to  snore.  There  were  no  staring  portraits 
to  remonstrate  with  you  for  being  lazy ;  no  round-eyed  birds 
upon  the  curtains,  disgustingly  wide  awake,  and  insufferably 
prying.  The  thick  neutral  hangings,  and  the  dark  blinds,  and 
the  heavy  heap  of  bed-clothes,  were  all  designed  to  hold  in 
sleep,  and  act  as  non-conductors  to  the  day  and  getting  up. 
Even  the  old  stuffed  fox  upon  the  top  of  the  wardrobe  was 
devoid  of  any  spark  of  vigilance,  for  his  glass  eye  had  fallen 
out,  and  he  slumbered  as  he  stood. 

The  wandering  attention  of  the  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dra- 
gon roved  to  these  things  but  twice  or  thrice,  and  then  for  but 
an  instant  at  a  time.  It  soon  deserted  them,  and  even  the  dis- 
tant- bed  with  its  strange  burden,  for  the  young  creature  im- 
mediately before  her,  who,  with  her  downcast  eyes  intently 
fixed  upon  the  fire,  sat  wrapped  in  silent  meditation. 

She  was  very  young,  apparently  no  more  than  seventeen  ; 
timid   and  shrinking  in  her  manner,  and  yet   with  a  greater 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT. 


35 


share  of  self-possession  and  control  over  her  emotions  than 
usually  belongs  to  a  far  more  advanced  period  of  female  life. 
This  she  had  abundantly  shown,  but  now,  in  her  tending  of 
the  sick  gentleman.  She  v/as  short  in  stature  ;  and  her  figure 
was  slight,  as  became  her  years  ;  but  all  the  charms  of  youth 
and  maidenhood  set  it  off,  and  clustered  on  her  gentle  brow. 
Her  face  was  very  pale,  in  part  no  doubt  from  recent  agita- 
tion. Her  dark  brown  hair,  disordered  from  the  same  cause, 
had  fallen  negligently  from  its  bonds,  and  hung  upon  her 
neck ;  for  which  instance  of  its  waywardness,  no  male  ob- 
server would  have  had  the  heart  to  blame  it. 

Her  attire  was  that  of  a  lady,  but  extremely  plain  ;  and  in 
her  manner,  even  when  she  sat  as  still  as  she  did  then,  there 
was  an  indefinable  something  which  appeared  to  be  in  kindred 
with  her  scrupulously  unpretending  dress.  She  had  sat,  at 
first  looking  anxiously  towards  the  bed  ;  but  seeing  that  the 
patient  remained  quiet,  and  v>as  busy  with  his  writing,  she  had 
softly  moved  her  chair  into  its  present  place  ;  partly,  as  it 
seemed,  from  an  instinctive  consciousness  that  he  desired  to 
avoid  observation  \  and  partly  that  she  might,  unseen  by  him, 
give  some  vent  to  the  natural  feelings  she  had  hitherto  sup- 
pressed. 

Of  all  this,  and  much  more,  the  rosy  landlady  of  the  Blue 
Dragon  took  as  accurate  note  and  observation  as  only  woman 
can  take  of  woman.  And  at  length  she  said,  in  a  voice  too 
low,  she  knew,  to  reach  the  bed  : 

"  You  have  seen  the  gentleman  in  this  way  before,  miss  .'' 
Is  he  used  to  these  attacks  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him  very  ill  before,  but  not  so  ill  as  he  has 
been  to-night." 

"  What  a  providence  1  "  said  the  landlady  of  the  Dragon, 
"  that  you  had  the  prescriptions  and  the  medicines  with  you, 
miss  ?  " 

"  They  are  intended  for  such  an  emergency.  We  never 
travel  without  them." 

"  Oh  !  "  thought  the  hostess,  "then  we  are  in  the  habit  of 
travelling,  and  of  travelling  together." 

She  was  so  conscious  of  expressing  this  in  her  face,  that 
meeting  the  young  lady's  eyes  immediately  afterwards,  and 
being  a  very  honest  hostess,  she  was  rather  confused. 

"  l"he  gentleman — your  grandpapa" — she  resumed,  after 
a  short  pause,  "  being  so  bent  on  having  no  assistance,  must 
terrify  you  very  much,  miss  ?  " 


36 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


•  I  have  been  very  much  alarmed  to-night.  He — he  is 
not  my  grandfather." 

"  Father,  I  should  have  said,"  returned  the  hostess,  sensi- 
ble of  having  made  an  awkward  mistake. 

"  Nor  my  father,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Nor,"  she  added, 
slightly  smiling  with  a  quick  perception  of  what  the  landlady 
was  going  to  add,  "  Nor  my  uncle.     We  are  not  related." 

"  Oh  dear  me  !  "  returned  the  landlady,  still  more  embar- 
rassed than  before  :  "  how  could  I  be  so  very  much  mistaken ; 
knowing,  as  anybody  in  their  proper  senses  might,  that  when 
a  gentleman  is  ill,  he  looks  so  much  older  than  he  really  is  ? 
That  I  should  have  called  you  '  Miss,'  too.  Ma'am  !  '  But 
when  she  had  proceeded  thus  far,  she  glanced  involuntarily  at 
the  third  finger  of  the  young  lady's  left  hand,  and  faltered 
again :  for  there  was  no  ring  upon  it. 

"  When  I  told  you  we  were  not  related,"  said  the  other 
mildly,  but  not  without  confusion  on  her  own  part,  "  I  meant 
not  in  any  way.  Not  even  by  marriage.  Did  you  call  me 
Martin  ? " 

"  Call  you  ?  "  cried  the  old  man,  looking  quickly  up,  and 
hurriedly  drawing  beneath  the  coverlet,  the  paper  on  which  he 
had  been  writing.     "  No." 

She  had  moved  a  pace  or  two  towards  the  bed,  but 
stopped  immediately,  and  went  no  farther. 

"  No,"  he  repeated,  with  a  petulant  emphasis.  "  Why  do 
you  ask  me  .-•  If  1  had  called  you,  what  need  for  such  a  ques- 
tion ?  " 

"  It  was  the  creaking  of  the  sign  outside,  sir,  I  dare  say," 
obser\-ed  the  landlady  :  a  suggestion  by  the  way  (as  she  felt  a 
moment  after  she  had  made  it),  not  at  all  complimentary  to 
the  voice  of  the  old  gentleman. 

"  No  matter  what,  ma'am,"  he  rejoined  :  "  it  wasn't  I. 
Why  how  you  stand  there,  Mary,  as  if  I  had  the  plague  !  But 
they're  all  afraid  of  me,"  he  added,  leaning  helplessly  back- 
ward on  his  pillow  ;  "  even  she  !  There  is  a  curse  upon  me. 
What  else  have  1  to  look  for  !  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no.  Oh  no,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  good-tempered 
landlady,  rising,  and  going  towards  him.  "  Be  of  better  cheer, 
sir.     These  are  only  sick  fancies." 

"  What  are  only  sick  fancies  t  "  he  retorted.  "  What  do 
you  know  about  fancies  ?  Who  told  yon  about  fancies  ?  The 
old  story  !     Fancies  !  " 

"  Only  see  again  there,  how  you  take  one  up !  "  said  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  37 

mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  with  unimpaired  good  humor 
"  Dear  heart  alive,  there  is  no  harm  in  the  word,  sir,  if  it  is  an 
old  one.  Folks  in  good  health  have  their  fancies  too,  and 
strange  ones,  every  day." 

Harmless  as  this  speech  appeared  to  be,  it  acted  on  the 
traveller's  distrust,  like  oil  on  tire.  He  raised  his  head  up  in 
the  bed,  and,  fixing  on  her  two  dark  eyes  whose  brightness 
was  exaggerated  by  the  paleness  of  his  hollow  cheeks,  as  they 
in  turn,  together  with  his  straggling  locks  of  long  gray  hair, 
were  rendered  whiter  by  the  tight  black  velvet  skull-cap  which 
he  wore,  he  searched  her  face  intently. 

"Ah  !  you  begin  too  soon,"  he  said,  in  so  low  a  voice  that 
he  seemed  to  be  thinking  it,  rather  than  addressing  her. 
"  But  you  lose  no  time.  You  do  your  errand,  and  you  earn 
your  fee.     Now,  w^ho  may  be  your  client  .-*  " 

The  landlady  looked  in  great  astonishment  at  her  whom 
he  called  Mar}^,  and  finding  no  rejoinder  in  the  drooping  face, 
looked  back  again  at  him.  At  first  she  had  recoiled  involun- 
tarily, supposing  him  disordered  in  his  mind  ;  but  the  slow 
composure  of  his  manner,  and  the  settled  purpose  announced 
in  his  strong  features,  and  gathering,  most  of  all,  about  his 
puckered  mouth,  forbade  the  supposition. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "tell  me  who  is  it?  Being  here,  it  is 
not  very  hard  for  me  to  guess,  you  may  suppose." 

"  Martin,"  interposed  the  young  lady,  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  arm  ;  "  reflect  how  short  a  time  we  have  been  in  this  house, 
and  that  even  your  name  is  unknown  here." 

"  Unless,"  he  said,  "  you. — "  He  was  evidently  tempted 
to  express  a  suspicion  of  her  having  broken  his  confidence  in 
favor  of  the  landlady,  but  either  remembering  her  tender  nurs- 
ing, or  being  moved  in  some  sort,  by  her  face,  he  checked 
himself,  and  changing  his  uneasy  posture  in  the  bed,  was  si- 
lent. 

"  There  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  for  in  that  name  the  Blue 
Dragon  was  licensed  to  furnish  entertainment,  both  to  man 
and  beast.  "  Now,  you  will  be  well  again,  sir.  You  forgot, 
for  the  moment,  that  there  were  none  but  friends  here." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  moaning  impatiently,  as  he 
tossed  one  restless  arm  upon  the  coverlet ;  "  why  do  you  talk 
to  me  of  friends  !  Can  you  or  anybody  teach  me  to  know  who 
are  my  friends,  and  who  my  enemies  ? " 

"  At  least,"  urged  Mrs.  Lupin,  gently,  "this  young  lady  is 
your  friend,  I  am  sure." 


38 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT. 


"  She  has  no  temptation  to  be  otherwise,"  cried  the  old 
man,  Uke  one  whose  hope  and  confidence  were  utterly  ex- 
hausted. "  I  suppose  she  is.  Heaven  knows.  There  :  let 
me  try  to  sleep.     Leave  the  candle  where  it  is." 

As  they  retired  from  the  bed,  he  drew  forth  the  writing 
which  had  occupied  him  so  long,  and  holding  it  in  the  flame 
of  the  taper  burnt  it  to  ashes.  That  done,  he  extinguished 
the  light,  and  turning  his  face  away  with  a  heavy  sigh,  drew 
tlie  coverlet  about  his  head,  and  lay  quite  still. 

This  destruction  of  the  paper,  both  as  being,  strangely  in- 
consistent with  the  labor  he  had  devoted  to  it  and  as  involv- 
ing considerable  danger  of  fire  to  the  Dragon,  occasioned  Mrs. 
Lupin  not  a  little  consternation.  But  the  young  lady  evincing 
no  surprise,  curiosity,  or  alarm,  whispered  her,  with  many 
thanks  for  her  solicitude  and  company,  that  she  would  re- 
main there  some  time  longer  ;  and  that  she  begged  her  not 
to  share  her  watch,  as  she  was  wqU  used  to  being  alone,  and 
would  pass  the  time  in  reading. 

Mrs.  Lupin  had  her  full  share  and  dividend  of  that  large 
capital  of  curiosity  which  is  inherited  by  her  sex,  and  at 
another  time  it  might  have  been  difiicult  so  to  impress  this 
hint  upon  her  as  to  induce  her  to  take  it.  But  now,  in  sheer 
wonder  and  amazement  at  these  mysteries,  she  withdrew  at 
once,  and  repairing  straightway  to  her  own  little  parlor  below- 
stairs,  sat  down  in  her  easy-chair  with  unnatural  composure. 
At  this  very  crisis,  a  step  was  heard  in  the  entry,  and  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  looking  sweetly  over  the  half-door  of  the  bar,  and 
into  the  vista  of  snug  privacy  beyond,  murmured  : 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Lupin  !  " 

"  Oh  dear  me,  sir  !  "  she  cried,  advancing  to  receive  him, 
"  I  am  so  very  glad  you  have  come." 

"  And  /am  very  glad  I  have  come,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
"  if  I  can  be  of  service.  I  am  very  glad  I  ha\e  come.  What 
is  the  matter  Mrs.  Lupin  .''  "  f 

"  A  gentleman  taken  ill  upon  the  road  has  been  so  very 
bad  up  stairs,  sir,"  said  the  tearful  hostess. 

"A  gentleman  taken  ill  upon  the  road  has  been  so  very 
bad  up  stairs,  has  he  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Well 
well!" 

Now  there  was  nothing  that  one  may  call  decidedly  original 
in  this  remark,  nor  can  it  be  exactly  said  to  have  contained 
any  wise  precept  theretofore  unknown  to  mankind,  or  to  have 
opened  any  hidden  source  of  consolation  ;  but  Mr.  Pecksniff's 


MARTI.V  CIIUZZLEWIT.  39 

manner  was  so  bland,  and  he  nodded  his  head  so  soothingly, 
and  showed  in  every  thing  such  an  affable  sense  of  his  own 
excellence,  that  anybody  would  have  been,  as  Mrs.  Lupin  was, 
comforted  by  the  mere  voice  and  presence  of  such  a  man  ; 
and,  though  he  had  merely  said  "  a  verb  must  agree  with  its 
nominative  case  in  number  and  person,  m}-  good  friend,"  or 
"eight  times  eight  are  sixty-four,  my  worthy  soul,"  must 
have  felt  deeply  grateful  to  him  for  his  humanity  and  wis- 
dom. 

"  And  how,"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drawing  off  his  gloves 
and  warming  his  hands  before  the  fire,  as  benevolently  as  if 
they  were  somebody  else's,  not  his  ;  "  and  how  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  He  is  better,  and  quite  tranquil,"  answered  Mrs.  Lupin. 

"  He  is  better,  and  quite  tranquil,"  said  INIr.  Pecksniff. 
"Very  well  !  vQrry  well !  " 

Here  again,  though  the  statement  was  Mrs.  Lupin's  and 
not  Mr.  Pecksniff's,  Mr.  Pecksniff  made  it  his  own  and  con- 
soled her  with  it.  It  was  not  much  when  Mrs.  Lupin  said  it, 
but  it  was  a  whole  book  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  it.  "  / 
observe,"  he  seemed  to  say,  "and  through  me,  morality  in 
general  remarks,  that  he  is  better  and  quite  tranquil." 

"  There  must  be  weighty  matters  on  his  mind  though," 
said  the  hostess,  shaking  her  head,  "  for  he  talks,  sir,  in  the 
strangest  way  you  ever  heard.  He  is  far  from  easy  in  his 
thoughts,  and  wants  some  proper  advice  from  those  whose 
goodness  makes  it  worth  his  having." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "he  is  the  sort  of  customer 
for  me. '  But  though  he  said  this  in  the  plainest  language,  he 
didn't  speak  a  word.  Pie  only  shook  his  head  :  disparagingly 
of  himself  too. 

"  I  am  afraid,  sir,"  continued  the  landlady,  first  looking 
round  to  assure  herself  that  there  was  nobody  within  hearing, 
and  then  looking  down  upon  the  floor.  "  I  am  very  much 
afraid,  sir,  that  his  conscience  is  troubled  by  his  not  being 
related  to — or — or  even  married  to — a  very  young  lady — " 

"  Mrs.  Lupin  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  holding  up  his  hand 
with  something  in  his  manner  as  nearly  approaching  to  se- 
verity, as  any  expression  of  his,  mild  being  that  was,  could 
ever  do.     "  Person  !     Young  person  .''  " 

"A  ver)'  young  person,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  courtesying  and 
blushing :  " — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  1  have  been  so  hur- 
ried to-night,  that  I  don't  know  what  I  say — who  is  v»ith  him 
now." 


40  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Who  is  with  him  now,"  ruminated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  warm- 
ing his  back  (as  he  had  warmed  his  hands)  as  if  it  were  a 
widow's  back,  or  an  orphan's  back,  or  an  enemy's  back,  or  a 
back  that  any  less  excellent  man  would  have  suffered  to  be 
cold.     "  Oh  dear  me,  dear  me  !  " 

"  At  the  same  time  I  am  bound  to  say,  and  I  do  say  with 
all  my  heart,"  observed  the  hostess,  earnestly,  "that  her  looks 
and  manner  almost  disarm  suspicion." 

"  Your  suspicion,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  gravely, 
"  is  very  natural." 

Touching  which  remark,  let  it  be  written  down  to  their 
confusion,  that  the  enemies  of  this  worthy  man  unblushingly 
maintained  that  he  always  said  of  what  was  very  bad,  that  it 
was  very  natural ;  and  that  he  unconsciously  betrayed  his  own 
nature  in  doing  so. 

"Your  suspicion,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  he  repeated,  "is  ver}' 
natural,  and  I  have  no  doubt  correct.  I  will  wait  upon  these 
travellers." 

With  that  he  took  off  his  great-coat,  and  having  run  his 
fingers  through  his  hair,  thrust  one  hand  gently  in  the 
bosom  of  his  waistcoat  and  meekly  signed  to  her  to  lead  the 
way. 

"  Shall  I  knock  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Lupin,  when  they  reached 
the  chamber  door. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  enter  if  you  please." 

They  went  in  on  tiptoe  :  or  rather  the  hostess  took  that 
precaution,  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  always  walked  softly.  The  old 
gentleman  was  still  asleep,  and  his  young  companion  still  sat 
reading  by  the  tire, 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pausing  at  the  door, 
and  giving  his  head  a  melancholy  roll,  "  1  am  afraid  that  this 
looks  artful.  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Lupin,  do  you  know,  that  this 
looks  very  artful  !  " 

As  he  finished  this  whisper,  he  advanced,  before  the  host- 
ess ;  and  at  the  same  time  the  young  lady,  hearing  footsteps, 
rose.  Mr.  Pecksniff  glanced  at  the  volume  she  held,  and 
whispered  Mrs.  Lupin  again  :  if  possible,  with  increased  de- 
spondency. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  good  book.  I  was  fearful 
of  that  beforehand.  I  am  apprehensive  that  this  is  a  very 
deep  thing  indeed  !  " 

"What  gentleman  is  this?"  inquired  the  object  of  his 
virtuous  doubts. 


MARTIiV  CHUZZLEWIT.  41 

"  Hush  !  don't  trouble  yourself,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
as  the  landlady  was  about  to  answer.  "  This  young  " — in 
spite  of  himself  he  hesitated  when  '  person  '  rose  to  his  lips, 
and  substituted  another  word  :  "  this  young  stranger,  Mrs. 
Lupin,  will  excuse  me  for  replying  briefly,  that  I  reside  in  this 
village  ;  it  may  be  in  an  influential  manner,  however  unde- 
served ;  and  that  I  have  been  summoned  here,  by  you.  I 
am  here,  as  I  am  everywhere,  I  hope,  in  sympathy  for  the  sick 
and  sorry." 

With  these  impressive  words,  Mr.  Pecksniff  passed  over 
to  the  bedside,  where,  after  patting  the  counterpane  once  or 
twice  in  a  very  solemn  manner,  as  if  by  that  means  he  gained 
a  clear  insight  into  the  patient's  disorder,  he  took  his  seat  in  a 
large  arm-chair,  and  in  an  attitude  of  some  thoughtfulness  and 
much  comfort, 'waited  for  his  waking.  Whatever  objection 
the  young  lady  urged  to  Mrs.  Lupin  went  no  further,  for 
nothing  more  was  said  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
said  nothing  more  to  anybody  else. 

Full  half-an-hour  elapsed  before  the  old  man  stirred,  but  at 
length  he  turned  himself  in  bed,  and,  though  not  yet  awake, 
gave  tokens  that  his  sleep  was  drawing  to  an  end.  By  little 
and  little  he  removed  the  bed-clothes  from  about  his  head,  and 
turned  still  more  towards  the  side  where  Mr.  Pecksniff  sat.  In 
course  of  time  his  eyes  opened  ;  and  he  lay  for  a  few  moments 
as  people  newly  roused  sometimes  will,  gazing  indolently  at 
his  visitor,  without  any  distinct  consciousness  of  his  presence. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  these  proceedings,  ex- 
cept the  influence  they  worked  on  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  could 
hardly  have  been  surpassed  by  the  most  marvellous  of  natural 
phenomena.  Gradually  his  hands  became  tightly  clasped 
upon  the  elbows  of  his  chair,  his  eyes  dilated  with  surprise, 
his  mouth  opened,  his  hair  stood  more  erect  upon  his  forehead 
than  its  custom  was,  until,  at  length,  when  the  old  man  rose 
in  bed,  and  stared  at  him  with  scarcely  less  emotion  than  he 
showed  himself,  the  Pecksniff  doubts  were  all  resolved,  and  he 
exclaimed  aloud  : 

"  You  are  Martin  Chuzzlewit !  " 

His  consternation  of  surprise  was  so  genuine,  that  the  old 
man,  with  all  the  disposition  that  he  clearly  entertained  to 
believe  it  assumed,  was  convinced  of  its  realit}'. 

"  I  am  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  he  said  :  "and  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit wishes  you  had  been  hanged,  before  you  had  come  here 
to  disturb  him  in  his  sleep.     Why,  I  dreamed  of  this  fellow  !  " 


42  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

he  said,  lying  down  again,  and  turning  away  his  face,  "  before 
1  knew  that  he  was  near  me  !  "  | 

"  My  good  cousin — "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  There  !  His  very  first  words  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  shak- 
ing his  gray  head  to  and  fro  upon  the  pillow,  and  throwing 
up  his  hands.  "  In  his  very  first  words  he  asserts  his  relation- 
ship !  I  knew  he  would  :  they  all  do  it !  Near  or  distant,  blood 
or  water,  it's  all  one.  Ugh  !  What  a  calendar  of  deceit,  and 
lying,  and  false-witnessing,  the  sound  of  any  word  of  kindred 
opens  before  me  !  " 

"  Pray  do  not  be  hasty,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksniff, 
in  a  tone  that  was  at  once  in  the  sublimest  degree  compas- 
sionate and  dispassionate  ;  for  he  had  by  this  time  recovered 
from  his  surprise,  and  was  in  full  possession  of  his  virtuous 
self.     "  You  will  regret  being  hasty,  I  know  you  will." 

"  You  know  1  "  said  Martin,  contemptuously. 

"  Yes,"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Ay,  ay,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  : 
and  don't  imagine  that  I  mean  to  court  or  flatter  you  :  for 
nothing  is  further  from  my  intention.  Neither,  sir,  need  you 
entertain  the  least  misgiving  that  I  shall  repeat  that  obnoxious 
word  which  has  given  you  so  much  offence  already,  ^^'hy 
should  I  ?  What  do  I  expect  or  want  from  you .-'  There  is 
nothing  in  your  possession  that  /  know  of,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 
which  is  much  to  be  coveted  for  the  happiness  it  brings  you." 

"  That's  true  enough,"  muttered  the  old  man. 

"Apart  from  that  consideration,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  watch- 
ful of  the  effect  he  made,  "  it  must  be  plain  to  you  (1  am 
sure)  by  this  time,  that  if  I  had  wished  to  insinuate  myself 
into  your  good  opinion,  I  should  have  been,  of  all  things, 
careful  not  to  address  you  as  a  relati\e  :  knowing  your  humor, 
and  being  quite  certain  before  hand  that  I  could  not  have  a 
worse  letter  of  recommendation." 

Martin  made  not  any  verbal  answer  ;  but  he  as  clearly 
implied,  though  only  by  a  motion  of  his  legs  beneath  the 
bedclothes,  that  there  was  reason  in  this,  and  that  he  could 
not  dispute  it,  as  if  he  had  said  as  much  in  good  set  terms. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  keeping  his  hand  in  his  waist- 
coat as  though  he  were  ready,  on  the  shortest  notice,  to  pro- 
duce his  heart  for  Martin  Chuzzlewit's  inspection,  "  I  came  here 
to  offer  my  services  to  a  stranger.  T  make  no  offer  of  them 
to  you,  because  I  know  you  would  distrust  me  if  I  did.  But 
lying  on  that  bed,  sir,  I  regard  you  as  a  stranger,  and  I  have 
just  that  amount  of  interest  in  you  which  I  hope  I  should  feel 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  43 

in  any  stranger,  circumstanced  as  you  are.  Beyond  that,  I  am 
quite  as  indifferent  to  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  you  are  to  me." 

Ha\'ingsaid  which,  Mr.  Pecksniff  threw  himseff  back  in  the 
easy-chair  :  so  radiant  with  ingenuous  lionesty,  that  Mrs.  Lupin 
almost  wondered  not  to  see  a  stained-glass  Glory,  such  as  the 
Saint  wore  in  the  church,  shining  about  his  head. 

A  long  pause  succeeded.  The  old  man,  with  increased 
restlessness,  changed  his  posture  several  times.  Mrs.  Lupin 
and  the  young  lady  gazed  in  silence  at  the  counterpane.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  toyed  abstractedly  with  his  eye-glass,  and  kept  his 
eyes  shut,  that   he  might  ruminate  the  better. 

"  Eh  ?  "  he  said  at  last,  opening  them  suddenly,  and  looking 
towards  the  bed.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  you  spoke. 
Mrs.  Lupin,"  he  continued,  slowly  rising,  "I  am  not  aware 
that  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you  here.  The  gentleman  is 
better,  and  you  are  as  good  a  nurse  as  he  can  have.     Eh  ?  " 

This  last  note  of  interrogation  bore  reference  to  another 
cliange  of  posture  on  the  old  man's  part,  which  brought  his 
face  towards  Mr.  Pecksniff  for  the  first  time  since  he  had 
turned  away  from  him. 

"  If  you  desire  to  speak  to  me  before  I  go,  sir,"  continued 
that  gentleman,  after  another  pause,  "  you  may  command  my 
leisure  ;  but  I  must  stipulate,  in  justice  to  myself,  that  you  do 
so  as  to  a  stranger:  strictly  as  to  a  stranger." 

Now  if  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew,  from  anything  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
had  expressed  in  gestures,  that  he  wanted  to  speak  to  him,  he 
could  only  have  found  it  out  on  some  such  principle  as  prevails 
in  melodramas,  and  in  virtue  of  which  the  elderly  farmer  with 
the  comic  son  always  knows  what  the  dumb-girl  means  when 
she  takes  refuge  in  his  garden,  and  relates  her  personal  me- 
moirs in  incomprehensible  pantomime.  But  without  stopping  to 
make  any  inquiry  on  this  point,  Martin  Chuzzlewit  signed  to 
his  young  companion  to  withdraw,  which  she  immediately  did, 
along  with  the  landlady,  leaving  him  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone 
together.  For  some  time  they  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  ; 
or  rather  the  old  man  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, again  closing  his  eyes  on  all  outward  objects,  took  an 
inward  survey  of  his  own  breast.  That  it  amply  repaid  him 
for  his  trouble,  and  afforded  a  delicious  and  enchanting  pros- 
pect, was  clear  from  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  You  wish  me  to  speak  to  you  as  to  a  total  stranger,"  said 
the  old  man,  "  do  you  ?  " 

Mr.   Pecksniff  replied,  by  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and  an 


^4  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

apparent  turning-round  of  his  eyes  in  their  sockets  before  he 
opened  them,  that  he  was  still  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  en- 
tertaining that  desire. 

"  You  shall  be  gratified,"  said  Martin.  "  Sir,  I  am  a  rich 
man.  Not  so  rich  as  some  suppose,  perhaps,  but  yet  wealthy. 
I  am  not  a  miser,  sir,  though  even  that  charge  is  made  against 
me,  as  I  hear,  and  currently  believed.  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
hoarding.  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  possession  of  money. 
The  devil  that  we  call  by  that  name  can  give  me  nothing  but 
unhappiness." 

It  would  be  no  description  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  gentleness  of 
manner  to  adopt  the  common  parlance,  and  say,  that  he  looked 
at  this  moment  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth.  He 
rather  looked  as  if  any  quantity  of  butter  might  have  been 
made  out  of  him,  by  churning  the  milk  of  human  kindness, 
as  it  spouted  upwartls  from  his  heart. 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  I  am  not  a  hoarder  of  money," 
said  the  old  man,  "  I  am  not  lavish  of  it.  Some  people  find 
their  gratification  in  storing  it  up  ;  and  others  theirs  in  parting 
with  it  ;  but  I  have  no  gratification  connected  with  the  thing. 
Pain  and  bitterness  are  the  only  goods  it  ever  could  procure 
forme.  I  hate  it.  It  is  a  spectre  walking  before  me  through 
the  world,  and  making  eveiy  social  pleasure  hideous." 

A  thought  arose  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mind,  which  must  have 
instantly  mounted  to  his  face,  or  Martin  Chuzzlevvit  would  not 
have  resumed  as  quickly  and  as  sternly  as  he  did : 

"  You  would  advise  me  for  my  peace  of  mind,  to  get  rid  of 
this  source  of  misery,  and  transfer  it  to  some  one  who  could 
bear  it  better.  Even  you,  perhaps,  would  rid  me  of  a  burden 
under  which  I  suffer  so  grievously.  But,  kind  stranger,"  said 
the  old  man,  whose  every  feature  darkened  as  he  spoke, 
"good  Christian  stranger,  that  is  a  main  part  of  my  trouble. 
In  other  hands,  I  have  known  money  do  good  :  in  other  hands 
I  have  known  it  triumphed  in,  and  boasted  of  with  reason,  as 
the  master-key  to  all  the  brazen  gates  that  close  upon  the  paths 
to  worldly  honor,  fortune,  and  enjoyment.  To  what  man  or 
woman  ;  to  what  worthy,  honest,  incorruptible  creature  ;  shall 
I  confide  such  a  talisman,  either  now  or  when  I  die?  Do  you 
know  any  such  person  ?  Your  virtues  are  of  course  inesti- 
mable, but  can  you  tell  me  of  any  other  living  creature  who 
will  bear  the  test  of  contact  with  myself?" 

"  Of  contact  with  yourself,  sir?'"  echoed  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

**  Ay,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  the  test  of  contact  with  me — 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  45 

with  me.  You  have  heard  of  him  whose  misery  (the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  own  fooUsh  wish)  was,  that  lie  turned  everj'thing 
he  touched  into  gold.  Tlie  curse  of  my  existence,  and  the 
realization  of  my  own  mad  desire,  is  that  by  the  golden  standard 
which  I  bear  about  me,  I  am  doomed  to  tr^'  the  mettle  of  all 
other  men,  and  find  it  false  and  hollow." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "You  think  so." 

"  Oh  yes,"  cried  the  old  man,  "  I  think  so  !  and  in  your  tell- 
ing me  '  1  think  so,'  I  recognize  the  true  unworldly  ring  of 
your  metal.  I  tell  you,  man,"  he  added,  with  increasing  bitter- 
ness, "  that  I  have  gone,  a  rich  man,  among  people  of  all 
grades  and  kinds  ;  relatives,  friends,  and  strangers  ;  among 
people  in  whom,  when  I  was  poor,  1  had  confidence,  and  justly, 
for  they  never  once  deceived  me  then,  or,  to  me,  wronged  each 
other.  But  I  have  never  found  one  nature,  no,  not  one,  in 
which,  being  wealthy  and  alone,  I  was  not  forced  to  detect  the 
latent  corruption  that  lay  hid  within  it,  waiting  for  such  as  I  to 
bring  it  forth.  Treacher^',  deceit,  and  low  design  ;  hatred  of 
competitors,  real  or  fancied,  for  my  favor ;  meanness,  falsehood, 
baseness,  and  servility  ;  or,"  and  here  he  looked  closely  in  his 
cousin's  eyes,  "  or  an  assumption  of  honest  independence, 
almost  worse  than  all  ;  these  are  the  beauties  which  my  wealth 
has  brought  to  light.  Brother  against  brother,  child  against 
parent,  friends  treading  on  the  faces  of  friends,  this  is  the  social 
company  by  whom  my  way  has  been  attended.  There  are 
stories  told — they  may  be  true  or  false — of  rich  men,  who,  in 
the  garb  of  poverty,  ha\e  found  out  virtue  and  rewarded  it. 
They  were  dolts  and  idiots  for  their  pains.  They  should  have 
made  the  search  in  their  own  characters.  They  should  have 
shown  themselves  fit  objects  to  l^e  robbed  and  preyed  upon 
and  plotted  against  and  adulated  by  any  knaves,  wlio,  but  for 
joy,  would  have  spat  upon  their  coffins  when  they  died  their 
dupes ;  and  then  their  search  would  have  ended  as  mine  has 
done,  and  they  would  be  what  I  am." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  not  at  all  knowing  what  it  might  be  best  to  say 
in  the  momentary'  pause  which  ensued  upon  these  remarks, 
made  an  elaborate  demonstration  of  intending  to  deliver  some- 
thing ver)'  oracular  indeed  :  trusting  to  the  certainty  of  the  old 
man  interrupting  him,  before  he  sliould  utter  a  word.  Nor 
was  he  mistaken,  for  Martin  Chuzzlewit  having  taken  breath, 
went  on  to  say  : 

"  Hear  me  to  an  end  ;  judge  what  profit  you  are  like  to  gain 
from  any  repetition  of  this  \isit ;  and  leave  me.     I  have  so 


46  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

corrupted. and  changed  the  nature  of  all  those  who  have  ever 
attended  on  me,  by  breeding  avaricious  plots  and  hopes  within 
them  ;  I  have  engendered  such  domestic  strife  and  discord,  by 
tarrying  even  with  members  of  my  own  family  ;  I  have  been 
such  a  lighted  torch  in  peaceful  homes,  kindling  up  all  the 
inflammable  gases  and  vapors  in  their  moral  atmosphere, 
which,  but  for  me,  might  have  proved  harmless  to  the  end; 
that  I  have,  I  may  say,  fled  from  all  who  knew  me,  and  taking 
refuge  in  secret  places  have  lived,  of  late,  the  life  of  one  who 
is  hunted.  The  young  girl  whom  you  just  now  saw — what ! 
your  eye  lightens  when  I  talk  of  her  !  You  hate  her  already, 
do  you .''  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  breast,  and  dropping  his  eyelids. 

"  I  forgot,"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  at  him  with  a  keenness 
which  the  other  seemed  to  feel,  although  he  did  not  raise  his 
eyes  so  as  to  see  it :  "I  ask  your  pardon.  I  forgot  you  were 
a  stranger.  For  the  moment  you  reminded  me  of  one  Peck- 
sniff, a  cousin  of  mine.  As  I  was  saying — the  young  girl  whom 
you  just  now  saw,  is  an  orphan  child,  whom,  with  one  steady 
purpose,  I  have  bred  and  educated,  or,  if  you  prefer  the  word, 
adopted.  For  a  year  or  more  she  has  been  my  constant  com- 
panion, and  she  is  my  only  one.  I  have  taken,  as  she  knows, 
a  solemn  oath  never  to  leave  her  sixpence  when  I  die,  but  while 
I  live,  I  make  her  an  annual  allowance :  not  extravagant  in  its 
amount  and  yet  not  stinted.  There  is  a  compact  between  us 
that  no  term  of  affectionate  cajolery  shall  ever  be  addressed  by 
either  to  the  other,  but  that  she  shall  call  me  always  by  my 
Christian  name  :  I  her,  by  hers.  She  is  bound  to  me  in  life 
by  ties  of  interest,  and  losing  by  my  death,  and  having  no 
expectation  disappointed,  will  mourn  it,  perhaps :  though  for 
that  I  care  little.  This  is  the  only  kind  of  friend  I  have  or  will 
have.  Judge  from  such  premises  what  a  profitable  hour  you 
have  spent  in  coming  here,  and  leave  me:  to  return  no  more." 

With  these  words,  the  old  man  fell  slowly  back  upon  his 
pillow.  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  slowly  rose,  and,  with  a  prefatory 
hem,  began  as  follows  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"  There.  Go  !  "  interposed  the  other.  "  Enough  of  this. 
I  am  weary  of  you." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  because 
I  have  a  duty  to  discharge,  from  which,  depend  upon  it,  I  shall 
not  shrink.     No,  sir,  I  shall  not  shrink." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


47 


It  is  a  lamentable  fact,  that  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  stood  erect 
beside  the  bed,  in  all  the  dignity  of  Goodness,  and  addressed 
him  thus,  the  old  man  cast  an  angr}-  glance  towards  the  candle- 
stick, as  if  he  were  possessed  by  a  strong  inclination  to  launch 
it  at  his  cousin's  head.  But  he  constrained  himself,  and  point- 
ing with  his  finger  to  the  door,  informed  him  that  his  road  lay 
there. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "I  am  aware  of  that ;  I 
am  going.  But  before  I  go,  I  crave  your  leave  to  speak,  and 
more  than  that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  must  and  will — yes  indeed, 
I  repeat  it,  must  and  will — -be  heard.  I  am  not  surprised,  sir, 
at  anything  you  have  told  me  to-night.  It  is  natural,  very 
natural,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  was  known  to  me  before.  I 
will  not  say,"  continued  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drawing  out  his  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  winking  with  both  eyes  at  once,  as  it  were, 
against  his  will,  "  I  will  not  say  that  you  are  mistaken  in  me. 
While  you  are  in  your  present  mood  I  would  not  say  so  for  the 
world.  I  almost  wish,  indeed,  that  I  had  a  different  nature, 
that  I  might  repress  even  this  slight  confession  of  weakness  : 
which  I  cannot  disguise  from  you:  which  I  feel  is  humiliating: 
but  which  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  excuse.  We  will  say, 
if  you  please,"  added  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  great  tenderness  of 
manner,  "  that  it  arises  from  a  cold  in  the  head,  or  is  attribut- 
able to  snuff,  or  smelling-salts,  or  onions,  or  anything  but  the 
real  cause." 

Here  he  paused  for  an  instant,  and  concealed  his  face  behind 
his  pocket  handkerchief.  Then,  smiling  faintl}-,  and  holding 
the  bed-furniture  with  one  hand,  he  resumed  : 

"  But,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  while  I  am  forgetful  of  myself,  I  owe 
it  to  myself,  and  to  my  character — ay,  sir,  and  I  have  a  charac- 
ter which  is  very  dear  to  me,  and  will  be  the  best  inheritance 
of  my  two  daughters — to  tell  you,  on  behalf  of  another,  that 
your  conduct  is  wrong,  unnatural,  indefensible,  monstrous. 
And  I  tell  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  towering  on  tiptoe 
among  the  curtains,  as  if  he  were  literally  rising  above  all 
wordly  considerations,  and  were  fain  to  hold  on  tight,  to  keep 
himself  from  darting  skyward  like  a  rocket,  "  I  tellyou  without 
fear  or  favor,  that  it  will  not  do  for  you  to  be  unmindful  of 
your  grandson,  young  Martin,  who  has  the  strongest  natunl  • 
claim  upon  you.  It  will  not  do,  sir,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
shaking  his  head.  "  You  may  think  it  will  do,  but  it  won't. 
You  must  provide  for  that  young  man  ;  you  shall  provide  for 
him  ;  you  z£'/// provide  for  him.     I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 


48  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

glancing  at  the  pen-and-ink,  "that  in  secret  you  have  already 
done  so.  Bless  you  for  doing  so.  Bless  you  for  doing  right, 
sir.     Bless  you  for  hating  me.     And  goodnight ! " 

So  saynig,  Mr.  Pecksniff  waved  his  right  hand  with  much 
solemnity ;  and  once  more  inserting  it  in  his  waistcoat,  de- 
parted. There  was  emotion  in  his  manner,  but  his  step  was 
firm.  Subject  to  human  weaknesses,  he  was  upheld  by  con- 
science. 

Martin  lay  for  some  time,  with  an  expression  on  his  face 
of  silent  wonder,  not  unmixed  with  rage  :  at  length  he  mut- 
tered in  a  whisper : 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  Can  the  false-hearted  boy  have 
chosen  such  a  tool  as  yonder  fellow  who  has  just  gone  out  .-* 
Why  not !  He  has  conspired  against  me,  like  the  rest,  and 
they  are  but  birds  of  one  feather.  A  new  plot ;  a  new  plot ! 
Oh  self,  self,  self !     At  every  turn  nothing  but  self !  " 

He  fell  to  trifling,  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  with  the  ashes  of 
the  burnt  paper  \\\  the  candlestick.  He  did  so,  at  first,  in 
pure  abstraction,  but  they  presently  became  the  subject  of  his 
thoughts. 

"Another  will  made  and  destroyed,"  he  said,  "nothing 
determined  on,  nothing  done,  and  I  might  have  died  to-night  ! 
I  plainly  see  to  what  foul  uses  all  this  money  will  be  put  at 
last,"  he  cried,  almost  writhing  in  the  bed  :  "after  filling  me 
with  cares  and  miseries  all  my  life,  it  will  perpetuate  discord 
and  bad  passions  when  I  am  dead.  So  it  always  is.  What 
lawsuits  grow  out  of  the  graves  of  rich  men,  every  day :  sow- 
ing perjury,  hatred,  and  lies  among  near  kindred,  where  there 
should  be  nothing  but  love  !  Heaven  help  us,  we  have  much 
to  answer  for!  Oh  self,  self,  self!  Every  man  for  himself, 
and  no  creature  for  me  !  " 

Universal  self !  Was  there  nothing  of  its  shadow  in  these 
reflections,  and  in  the  history  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  on  his 
own  showing ,-' 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 


49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM  WHICH  IT  WILL  APPEAR  THAT  IF  UNION  BE  STRENGTH, 
AND  FAMILY  AFFECTION  BE  PLEASANT  TO  CONTEMPLATE, 
THE  CHUZZLEWITS  WERE  THE  STRONGEST  AND  MOST  AGREE- 
ABLE   FAMILY  IN    THE    WORLD. 

That  worthy  man  Mr.  Pecksniff  having  taken  leave  of  his 
cousin  in  the  solemn  terms  recited  in  the  last  chapter,  with- 
drew to  his  own  home,  and  remained  there,  three  whole  days  : 
not  so  much  as,going  out  for  a  walk  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  his  own  garden,  lest  he  should  be  hastily  summoned  to  the 
bedside  of  his  penitent  and  remorseful  relative,  whom,  in  his 
ample  benevolence,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  forgive  un- 
conditionally, and  to  love  on  any  terms.  But,  such  was  the 
obstinacy  and  such  the  bitter  nature  of  that  stern  old  man, 
that  no  repentant  summons  came  ;  and  the  fourth  day  found 
Mr.  Pecksniff  apparently  much  farther  from  his  Christian  ob- 
ject than  the  first. 

During  the  whole  of  this  interval,  he  haunted  the  Dragon 
at  all  times  and  seasons  in  the  day  and  night,  and  returning 
good  for  evil,  evinced  the  deepest  solicitude  in  the  progress  of 
the  obdurate  invalid ;  insomuch  that  Mrs.  Lupin  was  fairly 
melted  by  his  disinterested  anxiety  (for  he  often  particularly 
required  her  to  take  notice  that  he  would  do  the  same  by  any 
stranger  or  pauper  in  the  like  condition),  and  shed  many  tears 
of  admiration  and  delight. 

Meantime,  old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  remained  shut  up  in  his 
own  chamber,  and  saw  no  person  but  his  young  companion, 
saving  the  hostess  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  who  was,  at  certain 
times,  admitted  to  his  presence.  So  surely  as  she  came  into 
the  room,  however,  Martin  feigned  to  fall  asleep.  It  was  only 
when  he  and  the  young  lady  were  alone,  that  he  would  utter  a 
word,  even  in  answer  to  the  simplest  inquiry ;  though  Mr. 
Pecksniff  could  make  out,  by  hard  listening  at  the  door,  that 
they  two  being  left  together,  he  was  talkative  enough. 

It  happened  on  the  fourth  evening,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff 
walking,  as  usual,  into  the  bar  of  the  Dragon  and  finding  no 
Mrs.  Lupin  there,  went  straight  up  stairs  :  purposing,  in  the 

4 


5° 


A/A  J?  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


fervor  of  his  affectionate  zeal,  to  apply  his  ear  once  more  to 
the  keyhole,  and  quiet  his  mind  by  assuring  himself  that  the 
hard-hearted  patient  was  goiwg  on  well.  It  happened  that 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  coming  softly  upon  the  dark  passage  into  which 
a  spiral  ray  of  light  usually  darted  through  the  same  keyhole, 
was  astonished  to  find  no  such  ray  visible ;  and  it  happened 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  when  he  had  felt  his  way  to  the  chamber- 
door,  stooping  hurriedly  down  to  ascertain  by  personal  in- 
spection whether  the  jealousy  of  the  old  man  hacl  caused  this 
keyhole  to  be  stopped  on  the  inside,  brought  his  head  into 
such  violent  contact  with  another  head,  that  he  could  not  help 
uttering  in  an  audible  voice  the  monosyllable  "Oh  !  "  which 
was,  as  it  were,  sharply  unscrewed  and  jerked  out  of  him  by 
very  anguish.  It  happened  then,  and  lastly,  that  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff found  himself  immediately  cohared  by  something  which 
smelt  like  several  damp  vmibrellas,  a  barrel  of  beer,  a  cask  of 
warm  brandy-and-water,  and  a  small  parlor-full  of  stale  to- 
bacco smoke,  mixed ;  and  was  straightway  led  down  stairs 
into  the  bar  from  which  he  had  lately  come,  where  he  found 
himself  standing  opposite  to,  and  in  the  grasp  of,  a  perfectly 
strange  gentleman  of  still  stranger  appearance,  who,  with  his 
disengaged  hand,  rubbed  his  own  head  very  hard,  and  looked 
at  him,  Pecksniff,  with  an  evil  countenance. 

I'he  gentleman  was  of  that  order  of  appearance,  which  is 
currently  termed  shabby-genteel,  though  in  respect  of  his  dress 
he  can  hardlv  be  said  to  have  been  in  anv  extremities,  as  his 
fingers  were  a  long  way  out  of  his  gloves,  and  the  soles  of  his 
feet  were  at  an  inconvenient  distance  from  the  upper  leather 
of  his  boots.  His  nether  garments  were  of  a  bluish  gray — 
violent  in  its  colors  once,  but  sobered  now  by  age  and  dingi- 
ness — and  were  so  stretched  and  strained  in  a  tough  conflict 
between  his  braces  and  his  straps,  that  they  appeared  every 
moment  in  dansrer  of  flvinsr  asunder  at  the  knees.  His  coat, 
in  color  blue  and  of  a  military  cut,  v/as  buttoned  andfrogged, 
up  to  his  chin.  His  cravat  was,  in  hue  and  pattern,  like  one 
of  ihose  mantles  which  hair-dressers  are  accustomed  to  wrap 
about  their  clients,  during  the  progress  of  the  professional 
mysteries.  His  hat  had  arrived  at  such  a  pass  that  it  would 
have  been  hard  to  determine  whether  it  was  originally  white 
or  black.  But  he  wore  a  mustache  —  a  shaggy  mustache 
too  :  nothing  in  the  meek  and  merciful  way,  but  quite  in  the 
fierce  and  scornful  style  :  the  regular  Satanic  sort  of  thing — 
and  he  wore,  besides,  a  vast  quantity  of  unbrushed  hair.     He 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  5  i 

was  ver)'  dirty  and  very  jaunty  ;  very  bold  and  very  mean  • 
very  swaggering  and  ver^'  slinking  ;  very  much  like  a  man 
who  might  have  been  something  better,  and  unspeakably  like 
a  man  who  deserved  to  be  something  worse. 

"  You  were  eaves-dropping  at  that  door,  you  vagabond !  " 
said  this  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  cast  him  off,  as  Saint  George  might  have  re- 
pudiated the  Dragon  in  that  animal's  last  moments,  and  said  : 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Lupin,  I  wonder  !  can  the  good  woman 
possibly  be  aware  that  there  is  a  person  here  who — " 

"  Stay  !  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  Wait  a  bit.  She  does 
know.     What  then  ?  " 

"  What  then,  sir  ? "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  What  then  ? 
Do  vou  know,  sir  that  I  am  the  friend  and  relative  of  that 
sick  gentleman  ?  That  I  am  his  protector,  his  guardian, 
his—'' 

"  Not  his  niece's  husband,"  interposed  the  stranger,  "  I'll 
be  sworn  ;  for  he  was  there  before  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  }  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  indignant 
surprise.     "What  do  you  tell  me,  sir.? " 

"  Wait  a  bit ! "  cried  the  other.  "  Perhaps  you  are  a 
cousin — the  cousin  who  lives  in  this  place  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  cousin  who  li\  es  in  this  place,"  replied  the  man 
of  worth. 

"  Your  name  is  Pecksniff  ?  "  said  the  gentleman. 

"  It  is." 

"I  am  proud  to  know  you,  and  I  ask  your  pardon,"  said 
the  man  touching  his  hat,  and  subsequently  diving  behind  his 
cravat  for  a  shirt-collar,  which  however  he  did  not  succeed  in 
bringing  to  the  surface.  "You  behold  in  me,  sir,  one  who 
has  also  an  interest  in  that  gentleman  up  stairs.     Wait  a  bit." 

As  he  said  this,  he  touched  the  tip  of  his  high  nose,  by 
way  of  intimation  that  he  would  let  Mr.  Pecksniff  into  a  se- 
cret presently  ;  and  pulling  off  his  hat,  began  to  search  inside 
the  crown  among  a  mass  of  crumpled  documents  and  small 
pieces  of  what  may  be  called  the  bark  of  broken  cigars, 
whence  he  presently  selected  the  cover  of  an  old  letter,  be- 
grimed with  dirt  and  redolent  of  tobacco. 

"  Read  that,"  he  cried,  giving  it  to  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"This  is  addressed  to  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,"  said  that 
gentleman. 

"  You  know  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,  I  believe  }  "  returned 
the  stranger. 


52  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  though  he  would 
say  "  I  know  there  is  such  a  person,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"  Very  good,"  remarked  the  gentleman.  "That  is  my  in- 
terest and  business  here."  With  that  he  made  another  dive 
for  his  shirt-collar,  and  brought  up  a  string. 

"  Now  this  is  very  distressing,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, shaking  his  head  and  smiling  composedly.  "  It  is  very 
distressing  to  me,  to  be  compelled  to  say  that  you  are  not  the 
person  you  claim  to  be.  I  know  Mr.  Slyme,  my  friend  ;  this 
will  not  do  :  honesty  is  the  best  policy  :  you  had  better  not : 
you  had  indeed." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  the  gentleman,  stretching  forth  his  right 
arm,  which  was  so  tightly  wedged  into  his  threadbare  sleeve 
that  it  looked  like  a  cloth  sausage.     "  Wait  a  bit  !  " 

He  paused  to  establish  himself  immediately  in  front  of 
the  fire,  with  his  back  towards  it.  Then  gathering  the  skirts 
of  his  coat  under  his  left  arm,  and  smoothing  his  mustache 
with  his  right  thumb  and  forefinger,  he  resumed  : 

"  I  understand  your  mistake,  and  I  am  not  offended. 
Why  }  Because  it's  complimentary.  You  suppose  I  would 
set  myself  up  for  Chevy  Slyme.  Sir,  if  there  is  a  man  on 
earth  whom  a  gentleman  would  feel  proud  and  honored  to  be 
mistaken  for,  that  man  is  my  friend  Slyme.  For  he  is,  with- 
out an  exception,  the  highest-minded,  the  most  independent- 
spirited,  most  original,  spiritual,  classical,  talented,  the  most 
tlioroughly  Shakspearian,  if  not  Miltonic,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  most  disgustingly-unappreciated  dog  \  know.  But,  sir,  I 
have  not  the  vanity  to  attempt  to  pass  for  Slyme.  Any  other 
man  in  the  wide  world,  I  am  equal  to  ;  but  Slyme  is,  I  frankly 
confess,  a  great  many  cuts  above  me.  Therefore  you  are 
wrong." 

'*  I  judged  from  this,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  holding  out  the 
cover  of  the  letter. 

"  No  doubt  you  did,"  returned  the  gentleman.  "  But,  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  the  whole  thing  resolves  itself  into  an  instance  of 
the  peculiarities  of  genius.  Every  man  of  true  genius  has  his 
peculiarity.  Sir,  the  peculiarity  of  my  friend  Slyme  is,  that  he 
is  always  waiting  round  the  corner.  He  is  perpetually  round 
the  corner,  sir.  He  is  round  the  corner  at  this  instant.  Now," 
said  the  gentleman,  shaking  his  forefinger  before  his  nose, 
and  planting  his  legs  wider  apart  as  he  looked  attentively  in 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  face,  "  that  is  a  remarkably  curious  and  inter- 
esting trait  in  Mr.  Slyme's  character;  and  whenever  Slyme's 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT.  53 

life  comes  to  lie  written,  that  trait  must  be  thoroughly  worked 
out  by  his  biographer,  or  society  will  not  be  satisfied.  Ob- 
serve me,  society  will  not  be  satisfied  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  coughed. 

"Slyme's  biographer,  sir,  whoever  he  may  be,"  resumed 
the  gentleman,  ""must  apply  to  me  ;  or,  if  I  am  gone  to  that 
what's-his-name  from  which  no  thingumbob  comes  back,  he 
must  apply  to  my  executors  for  leave  to  search  among  my 
papers.  I  have  taken  a  few  notes  in  my  poor  way,  of  some 
of  that  man's  proceedings — my  adopted  brother,  sir,— which 
would  amaze  you.  He  made  use  of  an  expression,  sir,  only 
on  the  fifteenth  of  last  month  when  he  couldn't  meet  a  little 
bill  and  the  other  party  wouldn't  renew,  which  would  ha\'e 
done  honor  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  addressing  the  French 

army." 

"  And  pray,"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  obviously  not  quite  at 
his  ease,  "  What  may  be  Mr.  Slyme's  business  here,  if  1  may 
be  permitted  to  inquire,  who  am  compelled  by  a  regard  for 
my  own  character  to  disavow  all  interest  in  his  proceedings  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,"  returned  the  gentleman,  "  you  will 
permit  me  to  say,  that  I  object  to  that  remark,  and  that  I 
strongly  and  indignantly  protest  against  it  on  behalf  of  my 
friend  Slyme.  In  the  next  place,  you  will  give  me  leave  to 
introduce  myself.  My  name,  sir,  is  Tigg.  The  name  of  Mon- 
tague Tigg  will  perhaps  be  familiar  to  you,  in  connection  with 
the  most  remarkable  events  of  the  Peninsular  War  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  gently  shook  his  head. 

"No  matter,"  said  the  gentleman.  "That  man  was  my 
father,  and  I  bear  his  name.  I  am  consequently  proud — 
proud  as  Lucifer.  Excuse  me  one  moment.  I  desire  my 
friend  Slyme  to  be  present  at  the  remainder  of  this  confer- 
ence." 

With  this  announcement  he  hurried  away  to  the  outer 
door  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  almost  immediately  returned 
with  a  companion  shorter  than  himself,  who  was  wrapped  in 
an  old  blue  camlet  cloak  with  a  lining  of  faded  scarlet.  His 
sharp  features  being  much  pinched  and  nipped  by  long  waiting 
in  the  cold,  and  his  straggling  red  whiskers  and  frowzy  hair 
beins:  more  than  usuallv  dishevelled  from  the  same  cause,  he 
certainly  looked  rather  unwholesome  and  uncomfortable  than 
Shakspearian  or  Miltonic. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  clapping  one  hand  on  the  shoul- 
der of  his  prepossessing  friend,  and    calling  Mr.  Pecksniff's 


54 


MARTIN  CHVZZLEWIT. 


attention  to  him  with  the  other,  "  you  two  are  related  ;  and 
relations  never  did  agree,  and  never  will  :  which  is  a  wise  dis- 
pensation and  an  inevitable  thing,  or  there  would  be  none  but 
family  parties,  and  everj'body  in  the  world  would  bore  every- 
body else  to  death.  If  you  were  on  good  terms,  I  should  con- 
sider you  a  most  confoundedly  unnatural  pair  ;  but  standing 
towards  each  other  as  you  do,  I  look  upon  you  as  a  couple  of 
devilish  deep-thoughted  fellows,  who  may  be  reasoned  with  to 
any  extent." 

Here  Mr.  Che\'y  Slyme,  whose  great  abilities  seemed  one 
and  all  to  point  towards  the  sneaking  quarter  of  the  moral 
compass,  nudged  his  friend  stealthily  with  his  elbow,  and 
whispered  in  his  ear. 

"  Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  aloud,  in  the  high  tone  of  one  who 
was  not  to  be  tampered  with.  "  I  shall  come  to  that  presently. 
I  act  upon  my  own  responsibility,  or  not  at  all.  To  the  ex- 
tent of  such  a  trifling  loan  as  a  crov/npiece  to  a  man  of  your 
talents,  I  look  upon  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  certain  :  "  and  seeing  at 
this  juncture  that  the  expression  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  face  by  no 
means  betokened  that  he  shared  this  certainty,  Mr.  Tigg 
laid  his  finger  on  his  nose  again  for  that  gentleman's  pri- 
vate and  especial  behoof  :  calling  upon  him  thereby  to  take 
notice,  that  the  requisition  of  small  loans  was  another  instance 
of  the  peculiarities  of  genius  as  developed  in  his  friend  Slyme ; 
that  he,  Tigg,  winked  at  the  same,  because  of  the  strong  met- 
aphysical interest  which  these  weaknesses  possessed  ;  and  that 
in  reference  to  his  own  personal  advocacy  of  such  small  ad- 
vances, he  merely  consulted  the  humor  of  his  friend,  without 
the  least  regard  to  his  own  advantage  or  necessities. 

"  Oh,  Chiv,  Chiv  !  "  added  Mr.  Tigg,  sur\  eying  his  adopted 
brother  with  an  air  of  profound  contemplation  after  dismissing 
this  piece  of  pantomime.  "  You  are,  upon  my  life,  a  strange 
instance  of  the  little  frailties  that  beset  a  might}'  mind.  If 
there  had  never  been  a  telescope  in  the  world,  I  should  have 
been  quite  certain  from  my  observation  of  you,  Chiv,  that  there 
were  spots  on  the  sun  !  I  wish  I  may  die,  if  this  isn't  the 
queerest  state  of  existence  that  we  find  ourselves  forced  into, 
without  knowing  why  or  wherefore,  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  Well, 
never  mind  !  Moralize  as  we  will,  the  world  goes  on.  As 
Hamlet  says,  Hercules  may  lay  about  him  with  his  club  in 
every  possible  direction,  but  he  can't  prevent  the  cats  from 
making  a  most  intolerable  row  on  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  or 
the  dogs  from  being  shot  in  the  hot  weather  it  they  run  about 


MARTI  A'  CIIUZZLEWIT.  55 

the  streets  unmuzzled.  Life's  a  riddle  :  a  most  infernally  hard 
riddle  to  guess,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  like 
that  celebrated  conundrum,  '  Why's  a  man  in  jail  like  a  man 
out  of  jail  ? '  there's  no  answer  to  it.  Upon  my  soul  and  body, 
it's  the  queerest  sort  of  thing  altogether — but  there's  no  use 
in  talking  about  it.     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

With  which  consolatory  deduction  from  the  gloomy  prem- 
ises recited,  Mr.  Tigg  roused  himself  by  a  great  effort,  and 
proceeded  in  his  former  strain. 

"  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  I'm  a  most  confoundedly 
soft-hearted  kind  of  fellow  in  my  way,  and  I  cannot  stand  by, 
and  see  you  two  blades  cutting  each  other's  throats  when 
there's  nothing  to  be  got  by  it.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  you're  the 
cousin  of  the  testator  up  stairs  and  we're  the  nephew — I  say 
we,  meaning  Chw.  Perhaps  in  all  essential  points,  you  are 
more  nearly  related  to  him  than  we  are.  Very  good.  If  so, 
so  be  it.  But  you  can't  get  at  liim,  neither  can  we.  I  give 
you  my  brighest  word  of  honor,  sir,  that  I've  been  looking 
through  that  keyhole,  with  short  intervals  of  rest,  ever  since 
nine  o'clock  this  morning,  in  expectation  of  receiving  an  an- 
swer to  one  of  the  most  moderate  and  gentlemanly  applications 
for  a  little  temporar)'  assistance — only  fifteen  pounds,  and  my 
security — that  the  mind  of  man  can  conceive.  In  the  mean- 
time, sir,  he  is  perpetually  closeted  with,  and  pouring  his  whole 
confidence  into  the  bosom  of,  a  stranger.  Now,  I  say  deci- 
sively, with  regard  to  this  state  of  circumstances,  that  it  won't 
do  ;  that  it  won't  act  ;  that  it  can't  be  ;  and  that  it  must  not 
be  suffered  to  continue." 

"  Every  man,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  has  a  right,  an  un- 
doubted right,  (which  I,  for  one,  would  not  call  in  question 
for  any  earthly  consideration  :  oh  no  !)  to  regulate  his  own  pro- 
ceedings by  his  own  likings  and  dislikings,  supposing  they  are 
not  immoral  and  not  irreligious.  I  may  feel  in  my  own  breast, 
that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  does  not  regard — me,  for  instance  :  say 
me — with  exactly  that  amount  of  Christian  love  which  should 
subsist  between  us  ;  I  may  feel  grieved  and  hurt  at  the  circum- 
stance ;  still  I  may  not  rush  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit is  wholly  without  a  justification  in  all  his  coldnesses  : 
Heaven  forbid  !  Besides,  how,  Mr.  Tigg,"  continued  Pecksniff 
even  more  gravely  and  impressively  than  he  had  spoken  yet, 
"  how  could  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  be  prevented  from  having  these 
peculiar  and  most  extraordinary  confidences  of  whic'-i  }-ou 
speak ;  the   existence  of   which  I  must   admit ;    and   which  I 


56  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

cannot  but  deplore — for  his  sake  ?  Consider,  my  good  sir — " 
and  here  Mr.  Pecksniff  eyed  him  wistfully — "  how  very  much 
at  random  you  are  talking." 

"  Why  as  to  that,"  rejoined  Tigg,  "  it  certainly  is  a  difficult 
question." 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is  a  difficult  question,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  an- 
swered. As  he  spoke  he  drew  himself  aloft,  and  seemed  to 
grow  more  mindful,  suddenly,  of  the  moral  gulf  between  him- 
self and  the  creature  he  addressed.  "  Undoubtedly  it  is  a 
very  difficult  question.  And  I  am  far  from  feeling  sure  that 
it  is  a  question  any  one  is  authorized  to  discuss.  Good  even- 
hig  to  you." 

"  You  don't  know  that  the  Spottletoes  are  here,  I  suppose  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Tigg. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  what  Spottletoes  ?  "  asked 
Pecksniff,  stopping  abruptly  on  his  way  to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,"  said  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire, 
speaking  aloud  for  the  first  time,  and  speaking  very  sulkily ; 
shambling  with  his  legs  the  while.  "  Spottletoe  married  my 
father's  brother's  child,  didn't  he  ?  And  Mrs.  Spottletoe  is 
Chuzzlewit's  own  niece,  isn't  she  ?  She  was  his  favorite  once. 
You  may  well  ask  what  Spottletoes." 

"  Now,  upon  my  sacred  word  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  look- 
ing upwards.  "  This  is  dreadful.  The  rapacity  of  these  peo- 
ple is  absolutely  frightful !  " 

"  It's  not  only  the  Spottletoes  either,  Tigg,"  said  Slyme, 
looking  at  that  gentleman  and  speaking  at  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  his  son  have  got  wind  of  it,  and 
have  come  down  this  afternoon.  I  saw  'em  not  five  minutes 
ago,  when  I  was  waiting  round  the  corner." 

"  Oh,  Mammon,  Mammon  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiting 
his  forehead. 

"  So  there,"  said  Slyme,  regardless  of  the  interruption, 
"  are  his  brother  and  another  nephew  for  you,  already." 

"This  is  the  whole  thing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg;  "this  is  the 
point  and  purpose  at  which  I  was  gradually  arriving,  when  my 
friend  Slyme  here,  with  six  words,  hit  it  full.  Mr.  Pecksniff', 
now. that  your  cousin  (and  Chiv's  uncle)  has  turned  up,  some 
steps  must  be  taken  to  prevent  his  disappearing  again ;  and  if 
possible,  to  counteract  the  influence  which  is  exercised  over 
him  now,  by  this  designing  favorite.  Ever}'body  who  is  inter- 
ested feels  it,  sir.  The  whole  family  is  pouring  down  to  this 
place.     The  time  has  come  when  individual  jealousies  and 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 


57 


interests  must  be  forgotten  for  a  time,  sir,  and  union  must  be 
made  against  the  common  enemy.  When  the  common  enemy 
is  routed,  you  will  all  set  up  for  yourselves  again  ;  every  lady 
and  gentlemen  who  has  a  part  in  the  game,  will  go  in  on  their 
own  account  and  bowl  away,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  at  the 
testator's  wicket ;  and  nobody  will  be  in  a  worse  position  than 
before.  Think  of  it.  Don't  commit  yourself  now.  You'll  find 
us  at  the  Half  Moon  and  Seven  Stars  in  this  village,  at  any 
time,  and  open  to  any  reasonable  proposition.  Hem  !  Chiv,  my 
dear  fellow,  go  out  and  see  what  sort  of  a  night  it  is." 

Mr.  Slyme  lost  no  time  in  disappearing,  and,  it  is  to  be 
presumed,  in  going  round  the  corner.  Mr.  Tigg,  planting  his 
legs  as  wide  apart  as  he  could  be  reasonably  expected  by  the 
most  sanguine  man  to  keep  them,  shook  his  head  at  Mr. 
Pecksniff  and  smiled. 

"We  must  not  be  too  hard,"  he  said,  "upon  the  little  ec- 
centricities of  our  friend  Slyme.     You  saw  him  whisper  me  .''  " 

Mr  Pecksniff  had  seen  him. 

"  You  heard  my  answer,  I  think  }  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  heard  it. 

"  Five  shillings,  eh  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tigg,  thoughtfully.  "  Ah  ! 
what  an  extraordinary  fellow  ?     Very  moderate  too  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  no  answer. 

"  Five  shillings  !  "  pursued  Mr.  Tigg,  musing  :  "  and  to  be 
punctually  repaid  next  week  ;  that's  the  best  of  it.  You  heard 
that  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  neard  that. 

"  No  !  You  surprise  me  !  "  cried  Tigg.  "  That's  the  cream 
of  the  thing,  sir.  I  ne\-er  knew  that  man  fail  to  redeem  a 
promise,  in  my  life.     You're  not  in  want  of  change,  are  you  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "thank  you.     No"t  at  all." 

"Just  so,"  returned  Mr.  Tigg.  "If  you  had  been,  I'd 
have  got  it  for  you."  With  that  he  began  to  whistle  ;  but  a 
dozen  seconds  had  not  elapsed  when  he  stopped  short,  and, 
looking  earnestly  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  said  : 

"  Perhaps  you'd  rather  not  lend  Slyme  five  shillings  ?  " 

"  I  would  much  rather  not,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  rejoined. 

"  Egad  !  "  cried  Tigg,  gravely  nodding  his  head  as  if  some 
ground  of  objection  occurred  to  him  at  that  moment  for  the 
first  time,  "  it's  verj^  possible  you  may  be  right.  Would  you 
entertain  the  same  sort  of  objection  to  lending  mc  five  shil- 
lings, now  ? " 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  do  it,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 


58 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Not  even  lialf-a-crown,  perhaps  ?  "  urged  Mr.  Tigg, 

"  Not  even  half-a-cro\vn." 

"  Why  then  we  come,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  to  the  ridiculously 
small  amount  of  eighteenpence.     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "would  be  equally  objec- 
tionable." 

On  receipt  of  this  assurance,  Mr.  Tigg  shook  him  heartily 
by  both  hands,  protesting  with  much  earnestness,  that  he  was 
one  of  the  most  consistent  and  remarkable  men  he  had  ever 
met,  and  that  he  desired  the  honor  of  his  better  acquaintance. 
He  moreover  observed  that  there  were  many  little  character- 
istics about  his  friend  Slyme,  of  which  he  could  by  no  means, 
as  a  man  of  strict  honor,  approve  ;  but  that  he  was  prepared 
to  forgive  him  all  these  slight  drawbacks,  and  much  more,  in 
consideration  of  the  great  pleasure  he  himself  had  that  day  en- 
joyed in  his  social  intercourse  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  had 
given  him  a  far  higher  and  more  enduring  delight  than  the 
successful  negotiation  of  any  small  loan  on  the  part  of  his 
friend  could  possibly  have  imparted.  With  which  remarks  he 
would  beg  leave,  he  said,  to  wish  Mr.  Pecksniff  a  very  good 
evening.  And  so  he  took  himself  off  :  as  little  abashed  by 
his  recent  failure  as  any  gentleman  would  desire  to  be. 

The  meditations  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  evening  at  the  bar 
of  the  Dragon,  and  that  night  in  his  own  house,  were  very 
serious  and  grave  indeed  ;  the  more  especially  as  the  intelli- 
gence he  had  received  from  Messrs.  Tigg  and  Slyme  touch- 
ing the  arrival  of  other  members  of  the  family,  were  fully  con- 
firmed on  more  particular  inquir)-.  For  the  Spottletoes  had 
actually  gone  straight  to  the  Dragon,  where  they  were  at  that 
moment  housed  and  mounting  guard,  and  where  their  appear- 
ance had  occasioned  such  a  vast  sensation,  that  Mrs.  Lupin, 
scenting  their  errand  before  they  had  been  under  her  roof 
half-an-hour,  carried  the  news  herself  with  all  possible  secrecy 
straight  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  :  indeed  it  was  her  great 
caution  in  doing  so  which  occasioned  her  to  miss  that  gentle- 
man, who  entered  at  the  front  door  of  the  Dragon,  just  as  she 
emerged  from  the  back  one.  Moreover,  Mr.  Anthony  Chuz- 
/dewit  and  his  son  Jonas  were  economically  quartered  at  the 
Half  Moon  and  Seven  Stars,  which  was  an  obscure  ale-house  ; 
and  by  the  very  next  coach  there  came  posting  to  the  scene 
of  action,  so  many  other  affectionate  members  of  the  family 
(who  quarrelled  with  each  other,  inside  and  out,  all  the  way 
down,  to  the  utter  distraction  of  the  coaciniian;,  that  in  less 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  59 

than  four-and-twenty  hours  the  scanty  tavern  accommodation 
was  at  a  premium,  and  all  the  private  lodgings  in  the  place, 
amounting  to  full  four  beds  and  a  sofa,  rose  cent,  per  cent,  in 
the  market. 

In  a  word,  things  came  to  that  pass  that  nearly  the  whole 
family  sat  down  before  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  formally  in- 
vested it  ;  and  Martin  Chuzzlewit  was  in  a  state  of  siege.  But 
he  resisted  bravely  ;  refusing  to  receive  all  letters,  messages,  and 
parcels  ;  obstinately  declining  to  treat  with  anybody  ;  and  hold- 
ing out  no  hope  or  promise  of  capitulation.  Meantime  the 
family  forces  were  perpetually  encountering  each  other  in  di- 
vers parts  of  the  neighborhood  :  and,  as  no  one  branch  of  the 
Chuzzlewit  tree  had  ever  been  known  to  agree  with  another 
within  the  memory  of  man,  there  was  such  a  skirmishing,  and 
flouting,  and  snapping  off  of  heads,  in  the  metaphorical  sense 
of  that  expressio'n  ;  such  a  bandying  of  words  and  calling  of 
names  ;  such  an  upturning  of  noses  and  wrinkling  of  brows  ; 
such  a  formal  interment  of  good  feelings  and  violent  resurrec- 
tion of  ancient  grievances  ;  as  had  never  been  known  in  those 
quiet  parts  since  the  earliest  record  of  their  civilized  existence. 

At  length,  in  utter  despair  and  hopelessness,  some  few  of 
the  belligerents  began  to  speak  to  each  other  in  only  moder- 
ate terms  of  mutual  aggravation  ;  and  nearly  all  addressed 
themselves  with  a  show  of  tolerable  decency  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, in  recognition  of  his  high  character  and  influential  posi- 
tion. Thus,  by  little  and  little  they  made  coaimon  cause  of 
Martin  Chuzzlewit's  obduracy,  until  it  was  agreed  (if  such  a 
word  can  be  used  in  connection  with  the  Chuzzlewits)  that 
there  should  be  a  general  council  and  conference  held  at  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  house  upon  a  certain  day  at  noon  :  which  all  mem- 
bers of  the  family  who  had  brought  themselves  within  reach  of 
the  summons,  were  forthwith  bidden  and  imited,  solemnly,  to 
attend. 

If  ever  Mr.  Pecksniff  wore  an  apostolic  look,  he  wore  it  on 
this  memorable  day.  If  ever  his  unruffled  smile  proclaimed 
the  words,  "  I  am  a  messenger  of  peace  !  "  that  was  its  mis- 
sion now.  If  ever  man  combined  within  himself  all  the  mild 
qualities  of  the  lamb  with  a  considerable  touch  of  the  dove, 
and  not  a  dash  of  the  crocodile,  or  the  least  possible  sugges- 
tion of  the  ver}'  mildest  seasoning  of  the  serpent,  that  man 
was  he.  And,  Oh,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  Oh,  the  serene 
expression  on  the  face  of  Charity,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  I 
know  that  all  my  family  have   injured  me  bcN-ond  the  possi- 


6o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

bility  of  reparation,  l^ut  I  forgive  them,  for  it  is  my  duty  so  to 
do  !  "  And,  Oh,  the  ga}'  simplicity  of  Mercy  :  so  charming, 
■innocent,  and  infant-Hl<e,  tiiat  if  she  had  gone  out  walking  by 
herself,  and  it  had  been  a  little  earlier  in  the  season,  the 
robin-redbreasts  might  have  covered  her  with  leaves  against 
her  will,  believing  her  to  be  one  of  the  sweet  children  in  the 
wood,  come  out  of  it,  and  issuing  forth  once  more  to  look  for 
blackberries  in  the  young  freshness  of  her  heart !  What  words 
can  paint  the  Pecksniffs  in  that  trying  hour  ?  Oh,  none  :  for 
words  have  naughty  company  among  them,  and  the  Pecksniffs 
were  all  goodness. 

But  when  the  company  arrived  !  That  was  the  time.  When 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  rising  from  his  seat  at  the  table's  head,  with  a 
daughter  on  either  hand,  received  his  guests  in  the  best  par- 
lor and  motioned  them  to  chairs,  with  eyes  so  overflowing 
and  countenance  so  clamp  with  gracious  perspiration,  that  he 
may  be  said  to  have  been  in  a  kind  of  moist  meekness  !  And 
the  company  :  the  jealous,  stony-hearted,  distrustful  company, 
who  were  all  shut  up  in  themselves,  and  had  no  faith  in  any- 
body, and  wouldn't  believe  anything,  and  would  no  more  allow 
themselves  to  be  softened  or  lulled  asleep  by  the  Pecksniffs 
than  if  they  had  been  so  many  hedgehogs  or  porcupines  ! 

First,  there  was  Mr.  Spottletoe,  who  was  so  bald  and  had 
such  big  whiskers,  that  he  seemed  to  have  stopped  his  hair, 
by  the  sudden  application  of  some  powerful  remedy,  in  the 
very  act  of  falling  off  his  head,  and  to  have  fastened  it  irrevo- 
cably on  his  face.  Then  there  was  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  who  being 
much  too  slim  for  her  years,  and  of  a  poetical  constitution, 
was  accustomed  to  inform  her  more  intimate  friends  that  the 
said  whiskers  were  "  the  lodestar  of  her  existence  •"  and  who 
could  now,  by  reason  of  her  strong  affection  for  her  uncle 
Chuzzlewit,  and  the  shock  it  gave  her  to  be  suspected  of 
testamentary  designs  upon  him,  do  nothing  but  cr}' — except 
moan.  Then  there  were  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  and  his  son 
Jonas  :  the  face  of  the  old  man  so  sharpened  by  the  wariness 
and  cunning  of  his  life,  that  it  seemed  to  cut  him  a  passage 
through  the  crowded  room,  as  he  edged  away  behind  the  re- 
motest chairs  ;  while  the  son  had  so  well  profited  by  the  pre- 
cept and  example  of  the  father,  that  he  looked  a  year  or  two 
the  elder  of  the  twain,  as  they  stood  winking  their  red  eyes, 
side  by  side,  and  whispering  to  each  other,  softly.  Then  there 
was  the  widow  of  a  deceased  brother  of  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzle- 
wit, who  being  almost  supernaturally  disagreeable,  and  having 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  6 1 

a  dreary  face  and  a  bony  figure  and  a  masculine  voice,  was, 
in  right  of  these  quaHties,  what  is  commonly  called  a  strong- 
minded  woman ;  and  who,  if  she  could,  would  have  establish- 
ed her  claim  to  the  title,  and  have  shown  herself,  mentally 
speaking,  a  perfect  Sampson,  by  shutting  ip  her  brother-in- 
law  in  a  private  mad-house,  until  he  proved  his  complete  san- 
ity by  loving  her  very  much.  Beside  her  sat  her  spinster 
daughters,  three  in  number,  and  of  gentlemanly  deportment, 
who  had  so  mortified  themselves  with  tight  stays,  that  their 
tempers  were  reduced  to  something  less  than  their  waists,  and 
sharp  lacing  was  expressed  in  their  very  noses.  Then  there 
was  a  young  gentleman,  grand-nephew  of  Mr.  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit,  ver}'  dark  and  very  hairy,  and  apparently  born  for  no 
particular  purpose  but  to  save  looking-glasses  the  trouble  of 
reflecting  more*^  than  just  the  first  idea  and  sketchy  notion  of 
a  face,  which  had  never  been  carried  out.  Then  there  was  a 
solitary  female  cousin  who  was  remarkable  for  nothing  but 
being  very  deaf,  and  living  by  herself,  and  always  having  the 
tooth-ache.  Then  there  was  George  Chuzzlewit,  a  gay  bach- 
elor cousin,  who  claimed  to  be  young  but  had  been  younger, 
and  was  inclined  to  corpulency,  and  rather  over-fed  himself : 
to  that  extent,  indeed,  that  his  eves  were  strained  in  their 
sockets,  as  if  with  constant  surprise  ;  and  he  had  such  an  ob- 
vious disposition  to  pimples,  that  the  bright  spots  on  his  cra- 
vat, the  rich  pattern  on  his  waistcoat,  and  even  his  glittering 
trinkets,  seemed  to  have  broken  out  upon  him,  and  not  to 
have  come  into  existence  comfortably.  Last  of  all  there  were 
present  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  and  his  friend  Tigg.  And  it  is 
worthy  of  remark,  that  although  each  person  present  disliked 
the  other,  mainly  because  he  or  she  did  belong  to  the  family, 
they  one  and  all  concurred  in  hating  Mr.  Tigg  because  he 
didn't. 

Such  was  the  pleasant  little  family  circle  now  assembled  in 
Mr,  Pecksniff's  best  parlor,  agreeably  prepared  to  fall  foul  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff  or  anybody  else  who  might  venture  to  say  any- 
thing whatever  upon  any  subject. 

"This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  rising,  and  looking  round  upon 
them,  with  folded  hands,  "  does  me  good.  It  does  my  daugh- 
ters good.  We  thank  you  for  assembling  here.  We  are 
grateful  to  you  with  our  whole  hearts.  It  is  a  blessed  distinc- 
tion that  you  have  conferred  upon  us,  and  believe  me  :  "  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  how  he  smiled  here :  "  we  shall  not 
easily  forget  it." 


62  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  Pecksniff,"  remarked  Mr. 
Spottletoe,  with  his  whiskers  in  a  very  portentous  state  ;  "  but 
you  are  assuming  too  mucli  to  yourself,  sir.  Who  do  you 
imagine  has  it  in  contemplation  to  confer  a  distinction  upon 
you^  sir  ?  " 

A  general  murmur  echoed  this  inquiry,  and  applauded  it. 

"  If  you  are  about  to  pursue  the  course  with  which  you 
have  begun,  sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Spottletoe  in  a  great  heat,  and 
giving  a  violent  rap  on  the  table  with  his  knuckles,  "  the 
sooner  you  desist,  and  this  assembly  separates,  the  better.  I 
am  no  stranger,  sir,  to  your  preposterous  desire  to  be  regarded 
as  the  head  of  this  family,  but  I  can  tell  you,  sir — " 

Oh  yes  indeed!  He  \.^\\.  He!  What.?  He  was  the 
head,  was  he  .''  From  the  strong-minded  woman  downwards 
everybody  fell,  that  instant,  upon  Mr.  Spottletoe,  w^ho  after 
vainly  attempting  to  be  heard  in  silence  was  fain  to  sit  down 
again,  folding  his  arms  and  shaking  his  head,  most  wrathfully, 
and  giving  Mrs.  Spottletoe  to  understand  in  dumb  show,  that 
that  scoundrel  Pecksniff  might  go  on  for  the  present,  but  he 
would  cut  in  presently,  and  annihilate  him. 

"  I  am  not  sorry,"  said'Mr.  Pecksniff  in  resumption  of  his 
address,  "  I  am  really  not  sorry  that  this  little  incident  has 
happened.  It  is  good  to  feel  that  we  are  met  here  without 
disguise.  It  is  good  to  know  that  we  have  no  reserve  before 
each  other,  but  are  appearing  freely  in  our  own  characters." 

Here,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  strong-minded  woman 
rose  a  little  way  from  her  seat,  and  trembling  violently  from 
head  to  foot,  more  as  it  seemed  with  passion  than  timidity, 
expressed  a  general  hope  that  some  people  would  appear  in 
their  own  characters,  if  it  were  only  for  such  a  proceeding 
having  the  attraction  of  novelty  to  recommend  it :  and  that 
when  they  (meaning  the  some  people  before  mentioned)  talked 
about  their  relations,  they  would  be  careful  to  observe  who 
was  present  in  company  at  the  time  ;  otherwise  it  might  come 
round  to  those  relations'  ears,  in  a  way  they  little  expected ; 
and  as  to  red  noses  (she  observed)  she  had  yet  to  learn  that 
a  red  nose  was  any  disgrace,  inasmuch  as  people  neither  made 
nor  colored  their  own  noses,  but  had  that  feature  provided 
for  them  without  being  first  consulted  ;  though  even  upon 
that  branch  of  the  subject  she  had  great  doubts  whether 
certain  noses  were  redder  than  other  noses,  or  indeed  half  as 
red  as  some.  This  remark  being  received  with  a  shrill  titter 
by  the  two  sisters  of  the  speaker,   Miss  Charity  Pecksniff 


MARTIN-  CHUZZLEWIT.  63 

begged  with  much  politeness  to  be  informed  whether  any  of 
those  very  low  observations  were  levelled  at  her  ;  and  receiv- 
ing no  more  explanatory  answer  than  was  conveyed  in  the 
adage  "  Those  the  cap  fits,  let  them  wear  it,"  immediately 
commenced  a  somewhat  acrimonious  and  personal  retort, 
wherein  she  was  much  comforted  and  abetted  by  her  sister 
Mercy,  who  laughed  at  the  same  with  great  heartiness  :  indeed 
far  more  naturally  than  life.  And  it  being  quite  impossible 
that  any  difference  of  opinion  can  take  place  among  women 
without  every  woman  who  is  within  hearing  taking  active  part 
in  it,  the  strong-minded  lady  and  her  two  daughters,  and  Mrs. 
Spottletoe,  and  the  deaf  cousin  (who  was  not  at  all  disquali- 
fied from  joining  in  the  dispute  by  reason  of  being  perfectly 
unacquainted  with  its  merits),  one  and  all  plunged  into  the 
quarrel  directlyr 

The  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  being  a  pretty  good  match  for  the 
three  Miss  Chuzzlewits,  and  all  five  young  ladies  having,  in 
the  figurative  language  of  the  day,  a  great  amount  of  steam  to 
dispose  of,  the  altercation  would  no  doubt  have  been  a  long 
one  but  for  the  high  valor  and  prowess  of  the  strong-minded 
woman,  who,  in  right  of  her  reputation  for  powers  of  sarcasm, 
did  so  belabor  and  pummel  Mrs.  Spottletoe  with  taunting 
words  that  that  poor  lady,  before  the  engagement  was  two 
minutes  old,  had  no  refuire  but  in  tears,  'llicse  she  shed  so 
plentifully,  and  so  much  to  the  agitation  and  grief  of  Mr. 
Spottletoe,  that  that  gentleman,  after  holding  his  clenched  fist 
close  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes,  as  if  it  were  some  natural 
curiosity  from  the  near  inspection  whereof  he  was  likely 
to  derive  high  gratification  and  improvement,  and  after  offer- 
ing (for  no  particular  reason  that  anybody  could  discover)  to 
kick  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  for,  and  in  consideration  of,  the 
trifling  sum  of  sixpence,  took  his  wife  under  his  arm,  and  indig- 
nantly withdrew.  This  diversion,  by  distracting  the  attention 
of  the  combatants,  put  an  end  to  the  strife,  which,  after  break- 
ing out  afresh  some  twice  or  thrice  in  certain  inconsiderable 
spirits  and  dashes,  died  away  in  silence. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  once  more  rose  from  his 
chair.  It  was  then  that  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  composed 
themselves  to  look  as  if  there  were  no  such  beings — not  to 
say  present,  but  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  world,  as  the 
three  Miss  Chuzzlewits  :  while  the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits 
became  equally  unconscious  of  the  existence  of  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs. 


64  ^A  R  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 

"  It  is  to  be  lamented,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  forgiv- 
ing recollection  of  Mr.  Spottletoe's  fist,  "  that  our  friend 
should  have  withdrawn  himself  so  very  hastily,  though  we  have 
cause  for  mutual  congratulation  even  in  that,  since  we  are 
assured  that  he  is  not  distrustful  of  us  in  regard  to  anything 
we  may  say  or  do,  while  he  is  absent.  Now,  that  is  very 
soothing,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  Anthony,  who  had  been  watching  the 
whole  party  with  peculiar  keenness  from  the  first :  "  don't  you 
be  a  hypocrite." 

"A  what,  my  good  sir  1  "  demanded  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"A  hypocrite." 

"Charity,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "when  I  take  my 
chamber  candlestick  to-night,  remind  me  to  be  more  than 
usually  particular  in  praying  for  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  ; 
who  has  done  me  an  injustice." 

This  was  said  in  a  ver}^  bland  voice,  and  aside,  as  being 
addressed  to  his  daughter's  private  ear.  With  a  cheerfulness 
of  conscience,  prompting  almost  a  sprightly  demeanor,  he  then 
resumed  : 

"  All  our  thoughts  centring  in  our  very  dear,  but  unkind 
relative,  and  he  being  as  it  were  beyond  our  reach,  we  are  met 
to-day,  really  as  if  we  were  a  funeral  party,  except — a  blessed 
exception — that  there  is  no  Body  in  the  house." 

The  strong-minded  lady  was  not  at  all  sure  that  this  was  a 
blessed  exception.     Quite  the  contrary. 

"Well,  my  dear  madam  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Be  that 
as  it  may,  here  we  are  \  and  being  here,  we  are  to  consider 
whether  it  is  possible  by  any  justifiable  means — " 

"  Why,  you  know  as  well  as  I,"  said  the  strong-minded 
lady,  "  that  any  means  are  justifiable  in  such  a  case,  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  Very  good,  my  dear  madam,  very  good  ;  whether  it  is 
possible  by  any  means,  we  will  say  by  any  means,  to  open  the 
eyes  of  our  valued  relative  to  his  present  infatuation.  Whether 
it  is  possible  to  make  him  acquainted  by  any  means  with 
the  real  character  and  purpose  of  that  young  female  whose 
strange,  whose  very  strange  position,  in  reference  to  himself," 
here  Mr.  Pecksniff  sunk  his  voice  to  an  impressive  whisper, 
"really  casts  a  shadow  of  disgrace  and  shame  upon  this 
family ;  and  who,  we  know,"  here  he  raised  his  ^oice  again, 
"  else  why  is  she  his  companion  ?  harbors  the  very  basest 
designs  upon  his  weakness  and  his  property." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  65 

In  their  strong  feeling  on  this  point,  they,  who  agreed  in 
nothing  else,  all  concurred  as  one  mind.  Good  Heaven,  that 
she  should  harbor  designs  upon  his  property  !  The  strong- 
minded  lady  was  for  poison,  her  three  daughters  were  for 
Bridewell  and  bread-and-water,  the  cousin  with  the  tooth-ache 
advocated  Botany  Bay,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  suggested 
flogging.  Nobody  but  Mr.  Tigg,  who,  notwithstanding  his 
extreme  shabbiness,  was  still  understood  to  be  in  some  sort  a 
lady's  man,  in  right  of  his  upper  lip  and  his  frogs,  indicated  a 
doubt  of  the  justifiable  nature  of  these  measures  ;  and  he  only 
ogled  the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits  with  the  least  admixture  of 
banter  in  his  admiration,  as  though  he  would  observe,  "You. 
are  positively  down  upon  her  to  too  great  an  extent,  my  sweet 
creatures,  upon  my  soul  you  are  !  " 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  crossing  his  two  fore-fingers  in 
a  manner  which  was  at  once  conciliatory  and  argumentative  : 
"  I  will  not,  upon  the  one  hand,  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  she 
deserves  all  the  inflictions  which  have  been  so  very  forcibly 
and  hilariously  suggested  ;  "  one  of  his  ornamental  sentences  ; 
"  nor  will  I,  upon  the  other,  on  any  account  compromise  my 
common  understanding  as  a  man,  by  making  the  assertion  that 
she  does  not.  What  I  would  observe  is,  that  I  think  some 
practical  means  might  be  devised  of  inducing  our  respected, 
shall  I  say  our  revered —  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  interposed  the  strong-minded  woman  in  a  loud 
voice. 

"  Then  I  will  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "You  are  quite 
right,  my  dear  madam,  and  I  appreciate  and  thank  you  for 
your  discriminating  objection — our  respected  relative,  to  dis- 
pose himself  to  listen  to  the  promptings  of  nature,  and  not  to 
the—" 

"  Go  on.  pa  !  "  cried  Mercy. 

"  Why,  the  truth  is,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling 
upon  his  assembled  kindred,  "  that  I  am  at  a  loss  for  a  word. 
The  name  of  those  fabulous  animals  (pagan,  I  regret  to  sa}') 
who  used  to  sing  in  the  water,  has  quite  escaped  me." 

Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  suggested  "  Swans." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Not  swans.  Very  like  swans, 
too.     Thank  you." 

The  nephew  with  the  outline  of  a  countenance,  speaking 
for  the  first  and  last  time  on  that  occasion,  propounded 
"Oysters." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  his  own  peculiar  urbanity, 

5 


66  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  nor  oysters.  But  by  no  means  unlike  oysters  ;  a  very  ex- 
cellent idea  ;  thank  you,  my  dear  sir,  very  much.  Wait  !  Sirens. 
Dear  me  !  sirens,  of  course.  I  think,  I  say,  that  means  mi2:ht 
be  devised  of  disposing  our  respected  relative  to  listen  to  the 
promptings  of  nature,  and  not  to  the  siren-like  delusions  of 
art.  Now  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  our  esteemed 
friend  has  a  grandson,  to  whom  he  was,  until  lately,  very  much 
attached,  and  whom  I  could  have  wished  to  see  here  to-day, 
for  I  have  a  real  and  deep  regard  for  him.  A  fine  young 
man  :  a  veiy  fine  3'oung  man  !  I  would  submit  to  you,  whether 
M'e  might  not  remove  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  distrust  of  us,  and  vin- 
dicate our  own  disinterestedness  by — " 

"  If  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  has  anything  to  say  to  »«r," 
interposed  the  strong-minded  woman,  sternly,  "  I  beg  him  to 
speak  out  like  a  man  ;  and  not  to  look  at  me  and  my  daugh- 
ters as  if  he  could  eat  us." 

"  As  to  looking,  I  have  heard  it  said,  Mrs.  Ned,"  returned 
Mr.  George,  angrily,  "that  a  cat  is  free  to  contemplate  a 
monarch  ;  and  therefore  I  hope  I  have  some  right,  having 
been  born  a  member  of  this  family,  to  look  at  a  person  who 
only  came  into  it  by  marriage.  As  to  eating,  I  beg  to  say, 
whatever  bitterness  your  jealousies  and  disappointed  expecta- 
tions may  suggest  to  you,  that  I  am  not  a  cannibal,  ma'am." 

"  I  don't  know  that !  "  cried  the  strong-minded  woman. 

"  At  all  events,  if  I  was  a  cannibal,"  said  Mr.  George 
Chuzzlewit,  greatly  stimulated  by  this  retort,  "  I  think  it  would 
occur  to  me  that  a  lady  who  had  out-lived  three  husbands  and 
suffered  so  very  little  from  their  loss,  must  be  most  uncom- 
monly tough." 

The  strong-minded  woman  immediately  rose. 

"  And  I  will  further  add,"  said  Mr.  George,  nodding  his 
head  violently  at  every  second  syllable  ;  "  naming  no  names, 
and  therefore  hurting  nobody  but  those  whose  consciences  tell 
them  they  are  alluded  to,  that  I  think  it  would  be  much  more 
decent  and  becoming,  if  those  who  hooked  and  crooked  them- 
selves into  this  family  by  getting  on  the  blind  side  of  some  of 
its  members  before  marriage,  and  manslaughtering  them 
afterwards  by  crowing  over  them  to  that  strong  ]iilch  that  they 
were  glad  to  die,  would  refrain  from  acting  the  part  of  vul- 
tures in  regard  to  other  members  of  this  family  who  are  living. 
I  think  it  would  be  full  as  well,  if  not  better,  if  those  indi- 
viduals would  keep  at  home,  contenting  themselves  with  what 
they  have  got  (luckily  for  them)  already  ;  instead  of  hovering 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVJT.  67 

about,  and  thrusting  their  fingers  into,  a  family  pie,  which 
tliey  flavor  much  more  than  enough,  1  can  tell  them,  when 
they  are  fifty  miles  away." 

"J  might  have  been  prepared  for  this  !  "  cried  the  strong- 
minded  woman,  looking  about  her  with  a  disdainful  smile  as 
she  moved  towards  the  door,  followed  by  her  three  daugh- 
ters :  "  indeed  I  was  fully  prepared  for  it,  from  the  first. 
What  else  could  I  expect  in  such  an  atmosphere  as  this  !  " 

"  Don't  direct  your  half-pay-ofiicer"s  gaze  at  me,  ma'am,  if 
you  please,"  interposed  Miss  Charity;  "for  I  won't  bear  it." 

This  was  a  smart  stab  at  a  pension  enjoyed  by  the  strong- 
minded  woman,  during  her  second  widowhood  and  before  her 
last  coverture.     It  told  immensely. 

"  I  passed  from  the  memory  of  a  grateful  country,  you  very 
miserable  minx,",5aid  Mrs.  Ned,  "when  I  entered  this  family  ; 
and  I  feel  now,  though  I  did  not  feel  then,  that  it  served  me 
right,  and  that  I  lost  my  claim  upon  the  United  Kingdom  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland  when  I  so  degraded  myself.  Now, 
my  dears,  if  you're  quite  ready,  and  have  sufficiently  improved 
yourselves  by  taking  to  heart  the  genteel  example  of  these  two 
young  ladies,  I  think  we'll  go.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  we  are  very 
much  obliged  to  you,  really.  We  came  to  be  entertained,  and 
you  have  far  surpassed  our  utmost  expectations,  in  the  amuse- 
ment you  have  provided  for  us.     Thank  you.     Good-bye  !  " 

With  such  departing  words,  did  this  strong-minded  female 
paralyze  the  Pecksniffian  energies  ;  and  so  she  swept  out  of 
the  room,  and  out  of  the  house,  attended  by  her  daughters, 
who,  as  with  one  accord,  elevated  their  three  noses  in  the  air, 
and  joined  in  a  contemptuous  titter.  As  they  passed  the  par- 
lor window  on  the  outside,  they  were  seen  to  counterfeit  a 
perfect  transport  of  delight  among  themselves  ;  and  with  this 
final  blow  and  great  discouragement  for  those  within,  they 
vanished. 

Before  Mr.  Pecksniff  or  any  of  his  remaining  visitors  could 
offer  a  remark,  another  figure  passed  this  window,  coming,  at 
a  great  rate,  in  the  opposite  direction  and  immediately  after- 
wards, Mr.  Spottletoe  burst  into  the  chamber.  Compared  with 
his  present  state  of  heat,  he  had  gone  out  a  man  of  snow  or 
ice.  His  head  distilled  such  oil  upon  his  whiskers,  that  they 
were  rich  and  clogged  with  unctuous  drops  ;  his  face  was 
violently  infiamed,  his  limbs  trembled ;  and  he  gasped  and 
strove  for  breatli. 

"  My  good  sir  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 


68  ^I-'i  A'  T/JV  C MUZZLE  WIT. 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  returned  the  other  :  "  Oh  yes,  certainly  !  Oh 
to  be  sure  ?  Oh  of  course  !  You  hear  him  ?  You  hear  him  ? 
all  of  you  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter !  "  cried  several  voices. 

"  Oh  nothing  !  ''  cried  Spottletoe,  still  gasping.  "  Nothing 
at  all  !     It's  of  no  consequence  !     Ask  him  !     He'll  tell  you  !  " 

"I  do  not  understand  our  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
looking  about  him  in  utter  amazement.  "  I  assure  you  that 
he  is  quite  unintelligible  to  me." 

"  Unintelligible,  sir  !  "  cried  the  other.  "  Unintelligible  ! 
Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  don't  know  what  has  hap- 
pened !  That  you  haven't  decoyed  us  here,  and  laid  a  plot 
and  a  plan  against  us  !  Will  you  venture  to  say  that  you 
didn't  know  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  going,  sir,  and  that  you  don't 
know  he's  gone,  sir  }  " 

"  Gone  !  "  was  the  general  cry. 

"Gone,"  echoed  Mr.  Spottletoe.  "  Gone  while  we  were 
sitting  here.  Gone.  Nobody  knows  where  he's  gone.  Oh 
of  course  not  !  Nobody  knew  he  was  going.  Oh  of  course 
not !  The  landlady  thought  up  to  the  very  last  moment  that 
they  were  merely  going  for  a  ride  ;  she  had  no  other  suspicion. 
Oh  of  course  not !  She's  not  this  fellow's  creature.  Oh  of 
course  not !  " 

Adding  to  these  exclamations  a  kind  of  ironical  howl,  and 
gazing  upon  the  company  for  one  brief  instant  afterwards,  in 
a  sudden  silence,  the  irritated  gentleman  started  off  again  at 
the  same  tremendous  pace,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  assure  them  that  tliis 
new  and  opportune  evasion  of  the  family  was  at  least  as  great 
a  shock  and  surprise  to  him,  as  to  anybody  else.  Of  all  the 
bullyings  and  denunciations  that  were  ever  heaped  on  one 
unlucky  head,  none  can  ever  have  exceeded  in  energy  and 
heartiness  those  with  which  he  was  complimented  by  each  of 
his  remaining  relatives,  singly,  upon  bidding  him  farewell. 

The  moral  position  taken  by  Mr.  Tigg  was  something  quite 
tremendous  ;  and  the  deaf  cousin,  who  had  the  complicated 
aggravation  of  seeing  all  the  proceedings  and  hearing  nothing 
but  the  catastrophe,  actually  scraped  her  shoes  upon  the 
scraper,  and  afterwards  distributed  impressions  of  them  all 
over  the  top  step,  in  token  that  she  shook  the  dust  from  her 
feet  before  quitting  that  dissembling  and  perfidious  mansion. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had,  in  short,  but  one  comfort,  and  that  was 
the  knowledge   that  all  these  his  relations  and  friends  had 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  69 

hated  him  to  the  very  utmost  extent  before  ;  and  that  he,  for 
his  part,  had  not  distributed  among  them  any  more  love,  than, 
with  his  ample  capital  in  that  respect,  he  could  comfortably 
afford  to  part  with.  This  view  of  his  affairs  yielded  him  great 
consolation  ;  and  the  fact  deserves  to  be  noted,  as  showing 
with  what  ease  a  good  man  may  be  consoled  under  circum- 
stances of  failure  and  disappointment. 


CHAPTER  V. 

containing  a  full  account  of  the  installation  of  mr. 
Pecksniff's  new  pupil  into  the  bosom  of  mr.  peck- 
sniff's  FAMILY.  WITH  ALL  THE  FESTIVITIES  HELD  ON 
THAT  OCCASION,  AND  THE  GREAT  ENJOYMENT  OF  MR. 
PINCH. 

The  best  of  architects  and  land  surveyors  kept  a  horse,  in 
whom  the  enemies  already  mentioned  more  than  once  in  these 
pages,  pretended  to  detect  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  his  master. 
Not  in  his  outward  person,  for  he  was  a  raw-boned,  haggard 
horse,  always  on  a  much  shorter  allowance  of  corn  than  Mr. 
Pecksniff ;  but  in  his  moral  character,  wherein,  said  they,  he 
was  full  of  promise,  but  of  no  performance.  He  was  always, 
in  a  manner,  going  to  go,  and  never  going.  When  at  his 
slowest  rate  of  travelling,  he  would  sometimes  lift  up  his  legs 
so  high,  and  display  such  mighty  action,  that  it  was  difficult 
to  believe  he  was  doing  less  than  fourteen  miles  an  hour  ;  and 
he  was  for  ever  so  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  own  speed,  and 
so  little  disconcerted  by  opportunities  of  comparing  himself 
with  the  fastest  trotters,  that  the  illusion  was  the  more  difficult 
of  resistance.  He  was  a  kind  of  animal  who  infused  into  the 
breasts  of  strangers  a  lively  sense  of  hope,  and  possessed  all 
those  who  knew  him  better  with  a  grim  despair.  In  what 
respect,  having  these  points  of  character,  he  might  be  fairly 
likened  to  his  master,  that  good  man's  slanderers  only  can 
explain.  But  it  is  a  melancholy  truth,  and  a  deplorable  in- 
stance of  the  uncharitableness  of  the  world,  that  they  made 
the  comparison. 

In  this  horse,  and  the  hooded  vehicle,  whatever  its  proper 


7° 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


name  miglit  be,  to  wliich  he  was  usually  harnessed — it  was 
more  like  a  gig  with  a  tumor,  than  anything  else — all  Mr. 
Pinch's  thoughts  and  wishes  centred,  one  bright  frosty  morn- 
ing ;  for  with  this  gallant  equipage  he  was  about  to  drive  to 
Salisbury  alone,  there  to  meet  with  the  new  pupil,  and  thence 
to  bring  him  home  in  triumph. 

Blessings  on  thy  simple  heart,  Tom  Pinch,  how  proudly 
dost  thou  button  up  that  scanty  coat,  called  by  a  sad  misno- 
mer, for  these  many  years,  a  "great  "  one  ;  and  how  thorough- 
ly as  with  thy  cheerful  voice  thou  pleasantly  abjurest  Sam  the 
hostler  "  not  to  let  him  go  yet,"  dost  thou  believe  that  quad- 
ruped desires  to  go,  and  would  go  if  he  might  !  Who  could 
repress  a  smile — of  love  for  thee,  Tom  Pinch,  and  not  in  jest 
at  thy  expense,  for  thou  art  poor  enough  already.  Heaven 
knows — to  think  that  such  a  holiday  as  lies  before  thee,  should 
awaken  that  quick  flow  and  hurr}'  of  the  spirits,  in  which  thou 
settest  down  again,  almost  untasted,  on  the  kitchen  window- 
sill,  that  great  white  mug  (put  by,  by  thy  own  hands,  last 
night,  that  breakfast  might  not  hold  thee  late),  and  layest 
yonder  crust  upon  the  seat  beside  thee,  to  be  eaten  on  the 
road,  when  thou  art  calmer  in  thy  high  rejoicing  !  Who,  as 
thou  drivest  off,  a  happy  man,  and  noddest  with  .a  grateful 
lovingness  to  Pecksniff  in  his  nightcap  at  his  chamber-window, 
would  not  cry  :  "  Heaven  speed  thee,  Tom,  and  send  that 
thou  wert  going  off  for  e\'er  to  some  quiet  home  where  thou 
mightst  live  at  peace,  and  sorrow  should  not  touch  thee  !  " 

What  better  time  for  driving,  riding,  walking,  mo\'ing 
through  the  air  by  any  means,  than  a  fresh,  frosty  morning, 
when  hope  mns  cheerily  through  the  veins  with  the  brisk 
blood,  and  tingles  in  the  frame  from  head  to  foot !  This  was 
the  glad  commencement  of  a  bracing  day  in  early  winter,  such 
as  may  put  the  languid  summer  season  (speaking  of  it  when 
it  can't  be  had)  to  the  blush,  and  shame  the  spring  for  being 
sometimes  cold  by  halves.  The  sheep-bells  rang  as  clearly 
in  the  vigorous  air,  as  if  they  felt  its  wholesome  influence  like 
living  creatures  ;  the  trees,  in  lieu  of  leaves  or  blossoms,  shed 
upon  the  ground  a  frosty  rime  that  sparkled  as  it  fell,  and 
might  have  been  the  dust  of  diamonds.  So  it  was,  to  Tom. 
From  cottage  chimneys,  smoke  went  streaming  up  high,  high, 
as  if  the  earth  had  lost  its  grossness,  being  so  fair,  and  must 
not  be  oppressed  by  heavy  vapor.  The  crust  of  ice  on  the 
else  rippling  brook,  was  so  transparent  and  so  thin  in  texture, 
that  the  lively  water  might,  of  its  own  free  will,  have  stopped 


MAIi  TIN  CIIUZZLE  WIT.  7 1 

— in  Tom's  glad  mind  it  liad — to  look  upon  the  lovely  morn- 
ing. And  lest  the  sun  should  break  this  charm  too  eagerly, 
there  moved  between  him  and  the  ground,  a  mist  like  that 
which  waits  upon  the  moon  on  suminer  nights — the  very  same 
to  Tom — and  wooed  him  to  dissolve  it  gently. 

Tom,  Pinch  went  on  ;  not  fast,  but  with  a  sense  of  rapid 
motion,  which  did  just  as  well ;  and  as  he  went,  all  kinds  of 
things  occurred  to  keep  him  happy.  Thus  when  he  came 
within  sight  of  the  turnpike,  and  was — Oh  a  long  way  ofif ! — 
he  saw  the  tollman's  wife,  who  had  that  moment  checked  a 
wagon,  run  back  into  the  little  house  again  like  mad,  to  say 
(she  knew)  that  Mr.  Pinch  was  coming  up.  And  she  was 
right,  for  when  he  drew  within  hail  of  the  gate,  forth  rushed 
the  tollman's  children,  shrieking  in  tiny  chorus,  "  Mr.  Pinch  !  " 
to  Tom's  intense'  delight.  The  very  tollman,  though  an  ugly 
chap  in  general,  and  one  whom  folks  were  rather  shy  of  hand- 
ling, came  out  himself  to  take  the  toll,  and  give  him  rough 
good  morning  :  and  that  with  all  this,  and  a  glimpse  of  the 
family  breakfast  on  a  little  round  table  before  the  fire,  the 
crust  Tom  Pinch  had  brought  away  with  him  acquired  as  rich 
a  flavor  as  thou2:h  it  had  been  cut  from  a  faiiT  loaf. 

But  there  was  more  than  this.  It  was  not  only  the  married 
people  and  the  children  who  gave  Tom  Pinch  a  welcome  as 
he  passed.  No,  no.  Sparkling  eyes  and  snowy  breasts  came 
hurriedly  to  many  an  upper  casement  as  he  clattered  by,  and 
gave  him  back  his  greeting  :  not  stinted  either,  but  sevenfold, 
good  measure.  They  were  all  merry.  They  all  laughed. 
And  some  of  the  wickedest  among  them  even  kissed  their 
hands  as  Tom  looked  back.  For  who  minded  poor  Mr. 
Pinch  ?     There  was  no  harm  in  him. 

And  now  the  morning  grew  so  fair,  and  all  things  were  so 
wide  awake  and  gay,  that  the  sun  seeming  to  say — Tom  had 
no  doubt  he  said —  "  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer  :  I  must 
have  a  look,"  streamed  out  in  radiant  majesty.  The  mist,  too 
shy  and  gentle  for  such  lusty  company,  fled  off,  quite  scared, 
before  it  •  and  as  it  swept  away,  the  hills  and  mounds  and 
distant  pasture  lands,  teeming  with  placid  sheep  and  noisy 
crows,  came  out  as  bright  as  though  they  were  unrolled  bran 
new  for  the  occasion.  In  comj^liment  to  which  discover}',  the 
brook  stood  still  no  longer,  but  ran  briskly  off  to  bear  the 
tidings  to  the  water-mill,  three  miles  away. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  jogging  along,  full  of  pleasant  thoughts 
and  cheerful  influences,  when  he  saw,  upon   the   path  before 


72 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


him,  going  in  the  same  direction  with  himself,  a  traveller  on 
foot,  who  walked  with  a  light  quick  step,  and  sang  as  he  went  : 
for  certain  in  a  very  loud  voice,  but  not  unmusically.  He 
was  a  young  fellow,  of  some  five  or  six-and-twenty  perhaps, 
and  was  drest  in  such  a  free  and  tiy-away  fashion,  that  the 
long  ends  of  his  loose  red  neckcloth  were  streaming  out  be- 
hind liim  quite  as  often  as  before  ;  and  the  bunch  of  bright 
winter  berries  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  velveteen  coat,  was  as 
visible  to  Mr.  Pinch's  rearward  observation,  as  if  he  had  worn 
that  garment  wrong  side  foremost.  He  continued  to  sing 
with  so  much  energy,  that  he  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  wheels 
until  it  was  close  behind  him  ;  when  he  turned  a  whimsical 
face  and  a  veiy  merry  pair  of  blue  eyes  on  Mr.  Pinch,  and 
checked  himself  directly. 

"  Why,  Mark  1  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  stopping.  "  Who'd  have 
thought  of  seeing  you  here  ?     Well !    this  is  surprising  !  " 

Mark  touched  his  hat,  and  said,  with  a  very  sudden 
decrease  of  vivacity,  that  he  was  going  to  Salisbury. 

"  And  how  spruce  you  are,  too  !  "  said  Mr.  Pinch,  survey- 
ing him  with  great  pleasure.  "  Really  I  didn't  think  you 
were  half  such  a  tight-made  fellow,  Mark  !  " 

"  Thankee,  Mr.  Pinch.  Pretty  well  for  that,  I  believe. 
It's  not  my  fault,  you  know.  With  regard  to  being  spruce,  sir, 
that's  where  it  is,  you  see.''  And  here  he  looked  particularly 
gloomy. 

"  Where  what  is  ?  "  Mr.  Pinch  demanded. 

"  Where  the  aggravation  of  it  is.  Any  man  may  be  in  good 
spirits  and  good  temper  when  he's  well  drest.  There  ain't  much 
credit  in  that.  If  I  was  veiy  ragged  and  very  jolly,  then  I 
should  begin  to  feel  I  had  gained  a  point,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  So  you  were  singing  just  now,  to  bear  up,  as  it  were, 
against  being  well  dressed,  eh,  Mark  .''  "  said  Pinch. 

"Your  conversation's  always  equal  to  print,  sir,"  rejoined 
Mark,  with  a  broad  grin.     "  That  was  it." 

"  Well  !  "  cried  Pinch,  "  you  are  the  strangest  young  man, 
Mark,  I  ever  knew  in  my  life.  I  always  thought  so  ;  but  now 
I  am  quite  certain  of  it.  I  am  going  to  Salisbury,  too.  Will 
you  get  in }     I  shall  be  very  glad  of  your  company. 

The  young  fellow  made  his  acknowledgments  and  accepted 
the  offer  ;  stepping  into  the  carriage  directly,  and  seating  him- 
self on  the  very  edge  of  the  seat  with  his  body  half  out  of  it, 
to  express  his  being  there  on  sufTerance,  and  by  the  politeness 
of  Mr.  Pinch.  As  they  went  along,  the  conversation  pro- 
ceeded after  this  manner. 


MARTI?/  CIIUZZLEIVIT.  73 

"  I  more  than  half  believed,  just  now,  seeing  you  so  very 
smart,"  said  Pinch,  "  that  you  must  be  going  to  be  married, 
Mark." 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  thought  of  that,  too,"  he  replied.  "  There 
might  be  some  credit  in  being  jolly  with  a  wife,  'specially  if 
the  children  had  the  measles  and  that,  and  was  very  fractious 
indeed.  But  I'm  a'most  afraid  to  try  it.  I  don't  see  my  way 
clear." 

"You're  not  very  fond  of  anybody,  perhaps .''  "  said 
Pinch. 

"Not  particular,  sir,  I  think." 

"  But  the  way  would  be,  you  know,  Mark,  according  to 
your  views  of  things,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "to  marry  somebody 
you  didn't  like,  and  who  was  ver}-  disag'-ecable." 

"  So  it  would,  sir  ;  but  that  might  be  carrying  out  a  princi- 
ple a  little  too  far,  mightn't  it  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  might,"  said  Mr.  Pinch.  At  which  they  both 
laughed  gayly. 

"Lord  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "you  don't  half  know 
me,  though.  I  don't  believe  there  ever  was  a  man  as  could 
come  out  so  strong  under  circumstances  that  would  make 
other  men  miserable,  as  I  could,  if  I  could  only  get  a  chance. 
But  I  can't  get  a  chance.  It's  my  opinion,  that  nobody  never 
will  know  half  of  what's  in  me,  unless  something  very  unex- 
pected turns  up.  And  I  don't  see  any  prospect  of  that.  I'm 
a  going  to  leave  the  Dragon,  sir." 

"  Going  to  leave  the  Dragon  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  looking 
at  him  with  great  astonishment.  "  Why,  Mark,  you  take  my 
breath  away  !  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  rejoined,  looking  straight  l>efore  him  and  a 
long  way  off,  as  men  do  sometinles  when  they  cogilale  pro- 
foundly. "  What's  the  use  of  my  stopping  at  the  Dragon  ? 
It  an't  at  all  the  sort  of  place  for  inc.  When  I  left  London 
(I'm  a  Kentish  man  by  birth,  though),  and  took  that  sitivation 
here,  I  quite  made  up  my  mind  that  it  was  the  dullest  little 
out-of-the-way  corner  in  England,  and  that  there  would  be 
some  credit  in  being  jolly  under  such  circumstances.  But, 
Lord,  there's  no  dulness  at  the  Dragon  !  Skittles,  cricket, 
quoits,  nine-pins,  comic  songs,  choruses,  company  round  the 
chimney  corner  eveiy  winter's  evening.  Any  man  could  be 
jolly  at  the  Dragon.     There's  no  credit  in  tliaty 

"  But  if  common  report  l)e  true  for  once,  Mark,  as  1  think 
it  is,  being  able  to  conlirm  it   by  what   I   know  myself,"  said 


74 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Mr.  Pinch,  "  you  are  the  cause  of  half  this  merriment,  and  set 
it  going." 

"There  may  be  something  in  that,  too,  sir,"  answered 
Mark.     "  But  that's  no  consolation." 

"  Well  !  "  said  Mr.  Pinch,  after  a  short  silence,  his  usually 
subdued  tone  being  even  more  subdued  than  ever.  "  I  can 
hardly  think  enough  of  what  you  tell  me.  Why,  what  will 
become  of  Mrs.  Lupin,  Mark  t  " 

Mark  looked  more  fixedly  before  him,  and  further  off  still, 
as  he  answered  that  he  didn't  suppose  it  would  be  much  of  an 
object  to  her.  There  were  plenty  of  smart  young  fellows  as 
would  be  glad  of  the  place.     He  knew  a  dozen  himself. 

"That's  probable  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "but  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  that  Mrs.  Lupin  would  be  glad  of  them.  Wh)-, 
I  always  supposed  that  Mrs.  Lupin  and  you  would  make  a 
match  of  it,  Mark  :  and  so  did  every  one,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"  I  never,"  Mark  replied,  in  some  confusion,  "  said  nothing 
as  was  in  a  direct  way  courting-like  to  her,  nor  she  to  me,  but 
I  don't  know  what  I  mightn't  do  one  of  these  odd  times,  and 
what  she  mightn't  say  in  answer.  Well,  sir,  f/iai  wouldn't 
suit." 

"  Not  to  be  landlord  of  the  Dragon,  Mark  } "  cried  Mr, 
Pinch. 

"No,  sir,  certainly  not,"  returned  the  other,  withdrawing 
his  gaze  from  the  horizon,  and  looking  at  his  fellow-traveller. 
"  Why,  that  would  be  the  ruin  of  a  man  like  me.  I  go  and 
sit  down  comfortably  for  life,  and  no  man  never  finds  me  out. 
What  would  be  the  credit  of  the  landlord  of  the  Dragon's 
being  jolly .-"     Why,  he  couldn't  help  it,  if  he  tried." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Lupin  know  you  are  going  to  leave  her .''  " 
Mr.  Pinch  inquired. 

"  I  haven't  broke  it  to  her  yet,  sir,  but  I  must.  I'm  look- 
ing out  this  morning  for  something  new  and  suitable,"  he 
said,  nodding  towards  the  city. 

"  What  kind  of  thing  now  .''  "  Mr.  Pinch  demanded. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  Mark  replied,  "  of  something  in  the 
grave-digging  way." 

"Good  Gracious,  Mark  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  It's  a  good  damp,  wormy  sort  of  business,  sir,"  said 
Mark,  shaking  his  head,  argumentatively,  "  and  there  might 
be  some  credit  in  being  jolly,  with  one's  mind  in  that  pursuit, 
unless  grave-diggers  is  usually  given  that  way  ;  which  would 
be  a  drawback.  Vou  don't  happen  to  know  how  that  is,  in 
general,  do  you,  sir  .''  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


75 


"No,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  I  don't  indeed.  I  never  thought 
upon  the  subject." 

"  In  case  of  that  not  turning  out  as  well  as  one  could  wish, 
you  know,"  said  Mark,  musing  again,  "  there's  other  busi- 
nesses. Undertaking"  now.  That's  gloomy.  There  might 
be  credit  to  be  gained  there.  A  broker's  man  in  a  poor 
neighborhood  woukln't  be  bad  perhaps.  A  jailor  sees  a  deal 
of  misery.  A  doctor's  man  is  in  the  very  midst  of  murder. 
A  bailiff's  an't  a  lively  office  nat'rally.  Even  a  tax-gatherer 
must  find  his  feelings  rather  worked  upon  at  times.  There's 
lots  of  trades,  in  which  I  should  have  an  opportunity,  I  think." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  so  perfectly  overwhelmed  by  these  remarks 
that  he  could  do  nothing  but  occasionally  exchange  a  word  or 
two  on  some  indifferent  subject,  and  cast  sidelong  glances  at 
the  bright  face  of  his  odd  friend  (who  seemed  quite  uncon- 
scious of  his  observation),  until  they  reached  a  certain  corner 
of  the  road,  close  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  when  Mark 
said  he  would  jump  down  there,  if  he  pleased. 

"  But  bless  my  soul,  Mark,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  who  in  the 
progress  of  his  observation  just  then  made  the  discovery  that 
the  bosom  of  his  companion's  shirt  was  as  much  exposed  as  if 
it  were  Midsummer,  and  was  ruffled  by  every  breath  of  air, 
"  why  don't  you  wear  a  waistcoat  ?  " 

"  What's  the  good  of  one,  sir  .?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  Good  of  one  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch.  "  Why,  to  keep  your 
chest  warm." 

"Lord  love  you,  sir!  "  cried  Mark,  "you  don't  know  me. 
My  chest  don't  want  no  warming.  Even  if  it  did,  what  would 
no  waistcoat  bring  it  to.'  Inflammation  of  the  lungs,  perhaps  ? 
Well,  there'd  be  some  credit  in  l^eing  jolly,  with  a  inflamma- 
tion of  the  lungs." 

As  Mr.  Pinch  returned  no  other  answer  than  such  as  was 
conveyed  in  his  breath  very  hard,  and  opening  his  eyes  very 
wide,  and  nodding  his  head  very  much,  Mark  thanked  him 
for  his  ride,  and  without  troubling  him  to  stop,  jumped  lightly 
down.  And  away  he  fluttered,  with  his  red  neck-kerchief,  and 
his  open  coat,  down  a  cross-lane  :  turning  back  from  time  to 
time  to  nod  to  Mr.  Pinch,  and  looking  one  of  the  most  careless, 
good-humored,  comical  fellows  in  life.  His  late  companion, 
with  a  thoughtful  face,  pursued  his  way  to  Salisbury. 

Mr.  Pinch  had  a  shrewd  notion  that  Salisbury  was  a  veiy 
desperate  sort  of  place,  an  exceeding  wild  and  dissipated  city  ; 
and  when  he  had  put  up  the  horse,  and  given  the  hostler  to 


76 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


understand  that  he  would  look  in  again  in  the  course  of  an  hour 
or  two  to  see  him  take  his  corn,  he  set  forth  on  a  stroll  about  the 
streets  with  a  vague  and  not  unpleasant  idea  that  they  teemed 
with  all  kinds  of  mystery  and  bedevilment.  To  one  of  his 
quiet  habits  this  little  delusion  was  greatly  assisted  by  the 
circumstance  of  its  being  market-day,  and  the  thoroughfares 
about  the  market-place  being  fillecl  with  carts,  horses,  don- 
keys, baskets,  wagons,  garden  stuff,  meat,  tripe,  pies,  poultr}', 
and  huckster's  wares  of  every  opposite  description  and  possi- 
ble variety  of  character.  Then  there  were  young  farmers  and 
old  farmers,  with  smock-frocks,  brown  great-coats,  drab  great- 
coats, red  worsted  comforters,  leather-leggings,  wonderful 
shaped  hats,  hunting-whips,  and  rough  sticks,  standing  about  in 
groups,  or  talking  noisily  together  on  the  tavern  steps,  or  paying 
and  recei\ing  huge  amounts  of  greasy  wealth,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  such  bulky  pocketbooks  that  when  they  were  in  their 
pockets  it  was  apoplexy  to  get  them  out,  and  when  they  were 
out  it  was  spasms  to  get  them  in  again.  Also  there  were  farm- 
ers' wives  in  beaver  bonnets  and  red  cloaks,  riding  shaggy 
horses  purged  of  all  earthly  passions,  who  went  soberly  into 
all  manner  of  places  without  desiring  to  know  why,  and  who,  if 
required,  would  have  stood  stock  still  in  a  china-shop,  with  a 
complete  dinner-service  at  each  hoof.  Also  a  great  many 
dogs,  who  were  strongly  interested  in  the  state  of  the  market 
and  the  bargains  of  their  masters  ;  and  a  great  confusion  of 
tongues,  both  brute  and  human. 

Mr.  Pinch  regarded  everything  exposed  for  sale  with  great 
delight,  and  was  particularly  struck  by  the  itinerant  cutlery, 
which  he  considered  of  the  very  keenest  kind,  insomuch  that 
he  purchased  a  pocket  knife  with  seven  blades  in  it,  and  not 
a  cut  (as  he  afterwards  foun*d  out)  among  them.  When  he 
had  exhausted  themaiket-place,  and  watched  the  farmers  safe 
into  the  market  dinner,  he  went  back  to  look  after  the  horse. 
Having  seen  him  eat  unto  his  heart's  content,  he  issued  forth 
acrain,  to  wander  round  the  town  and  re2;ale  himself  with  the 
shop  windows ;  previously  taking  a  long  stare  at  the  bank, 
and  wondering  in  what  direction  underground,  the  caverns 
might  be,  where  they  kept  the  money  ;  and  turning  to  look 
back  at  one  or  two  young  men  who  passed  him,  whom  he 
knew  to  be  articled  to  solicitors  in  the  town  ;  and  who  had  a 
sort  of  fearful  interest  in  his  eyes,  as  jolly  dogs  who  knew  a 
thing  or  two,  and  kept  it  up  tremendously. 

But    the   shops.      Tirst  of  all,  there  were  the  jewellers' 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  77 

shops,  with  all  the  treasures  of  the  earth  displayed  therein, 
and  such  large  silver  watches  hanging  up  in  e\ery  pane  of 
glass,  that  if  they  were  anything  but  first-rate  goers  it  certain- 
ly was  not  because  the  works  could  decently  complain  of  want 
of  room.  In  good  sooth  they  were  big  enough,  and  perhaps, 
as  the  saying  is,  ugly  enough,  to  be  the  most  correct  of  all 
mechanical  performers ;  in  Mr.  Pinch's  eyes,  however,  they 
were  smaller  than  Geneva  ware ;  and  when  he  saw  one  very 
bloated  watch  announced  as  a  repeater,  gifted  with  the  un- 
common power  of  striking  every  quarter  of  an  hour  inside  the 
pocket  of  its  happy  owner,  he  almost  wished  that  he  was  rich 
enough  ii  buy  it. 

But  what  were  even  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones  and 
clockwork,  to  the  bookshops,  whence  a  pleasant  smell  of  paper 
freshly  pressedtame  issuing  forth,  awakening  instant  recollec-' 
tions  of  some  new  grammar  had  at  school,  long  time  ago,  with, 
"  Master  Pinch,  Grove  House  Academy,"  inscribed  in  fault- 
less writing  on  the  fiy-leaf !  That  whiff  of  russia  leather,  too, 
and  all  those  rows  on  rows  of  volumes,  neatly  ranged  within  : 
what  happiness  did  they  suggest  !  And  in  the  window  were  the 
spick-and-span  new  works  from  London,  with  the  title-pages, 
and  sometimes  even  the  first  page  of  the  first  chapter,  laid 
wide  open  :  tempting  unwary  men  to  begin  to  read  the  book, 
and  then,  in  the  impossibility  of  turning  over,  to  rush  blindly 
in,  and  buy  it !  Here  too  were  the  dainty  frontispiece  and  trini 
vignette,  pointing  like  hand-posts  on  the  outskirts  of  great 
cities,  to  the  rich  stock  of  incident  beyond  ;  and  store  of  books, 
with  many  a  grave  portrait  and  time-honored  name,  whose 
matter  he  knew  well,  and  would  have  given  mines  to  have,  in 
any  form,  upon  the  narrow  shelf  beside  his  bed  at  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's.    What  a  heart-breaking  shop  it  was  ! 

There  was  another  ;  not  quite  so  bad  at  first,  but  still  a 
trying  shop  ;  where  children's  books  were  sold,  and  where 
poor  Robinson  Crusoe  stood  alone  in  his  might,  with  dog  and 
hatchet,  goat-skin  cap  and  fowling-pieces  ;  calmly  surveying 
Philip  Quarll  and  the  host  of  imitators  round  him,  and  calling 
Mr.  Pinch  to  witness  that  he,  of  all  the  crowd,  impressed  one 
solitary  foot-print  on  the  shore  of  boyish  memory,  whereof  the 
tread  of  generations  should  not  stir  the  lightest  grain  of  sand. 
And  there  too  were  the  Persian  tales,  with  flying  chests  and 
students  of  enchanted  books  shut  up  for  years  in  caverns  : 
and  there  too  was  Abudah,  the  merchant,  with  the  terrible 
little  old  woman  hobbling  out  of  the  box  in  his  bedroom  :  and 


78 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


there  the  mighty  tahsman,  the  rare  Arabian  Nights,  with 
Cassim  Baba,  divided  by  four,  like  the  ghost  of  a  dreadful 
sum,  hanging  up,  all  gory,  in  the  robbers'  cave.  Which  match- 
less wonders,  coming  fast  on  Mr.  Pinch's  mind,  did  so  rub  up 
and  chafe  that  wonderful  lamp  within  him,  that  when  he 
turned  his  face  towards  the  busy  street,  a  crowd  of  phantoms 
waited  on  his  pleasure,  and  he  lived  again,  with  new  delight, 
the  happy  days  before  the  Pecksniff  era. 

He  had  less  interest  now  in  the  chemists'  shops,  with  their 
great  glowing  bottles  (with  smaller  repositories  of  brightness 
in  their  very  stoppers)  ;  and  in  their  agreeable  compromises 
between  medicine  and  prefumery,  in  the  shape  of  toothsome 
lozenges  and  virgin  honey.  Neither  had  he  the  least  regard 
(but  he  never  had  much)  for  the  tailors',  where  the  newest 
metropolitan  waistcoat  patterns  were  hanging  up,  which  by 
some  strange  transformation  always  looked  amazing  there,  and 
never  appeared  at  all  like  the  same  thing  anywhere  else.  But 
he  stopped  to  read  the  playbill  at  the  theatre,  and  surveyed 
the  doorway  with  a  kind  of  awe,  which  was  not  diminished 
when  a  sallow  <rentleman  with  lonsr  dark  hair  came  out,  and 
told  a  boy  to  run  home  to  liis  lodging  and  bring  down  his 
broadsword.  Mr.  Pinch  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  on  hearing 
this,  and  might  have  stood  there  until  dark,  but  that  the  old 
cathedral  bell  began  to  ring  for  vesper  service,  on  which  he 
tore  himself  away. 

Now,  the  organist's  assistant  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pinch's, 
which  was  a  good  thing,  for  he  too  was  a  very  quiet  gentle 
soul,  and  had  been,  like  Tom,  a  kind  of  old-fashioned  boy  at 
school,  though  well-liked  by  the  noisy  fellows  too.  As  good 
luck  would  have  it  (Tom  always  said  he  had  great  good  luck) 
the  assistant  chanced  that  very  afternoon  to  be  on  duty  by 
himself,  with  no  one  in  the  dusty  organ-loft  but  Tom  :  so 
while  he  played,  Tom  helped  him  with  the  stops  ;  and  finally, 
the  service  being  just  over,  Tom  took  the  organ  himself.  It 
was  then  turning  dark,  and  the  yellow  light  that  streamed  in 
through  the  ancient  windows  in  the  choir  was  mingled  with  a 
murky  red.  As  the  grand  tones  resounded  through  the  church, 
they  seemed,  to  Tom,  to  find  an  echo  in  the  depth  of  every 
ancient  tomb,  no  less  than  in  the  deep  mystery  of  his  own 
heart.  Great  thoughts  and  hopes  came  crowding  on  his  mind 
as  the  rich  music  rolled  upon  the  air,  and  yet  among  them — 
something  more  grave  and  solemn  in  their  purpose,  but  the 
same — were  all,  the  images  of  that  day,  down  to  its  very  light- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  79 

est  recollection  of  childhood.  The  feeling  that  the  sounds 
awakened,  in  the  moment  of  their  existence,  seemed  to  include 
his  whole  life  and  being  ;  and  as  the  surrounding  realities  of 
stone  and  wood  and  glass  grew  dimmer  in  the  darkness,  these 
visions  grew  so  much  the  brighter  that  Tom  might  have  for- 
gotten the  new  pupil  and  the  expectant  master,  and  have  sat 
there  pouring  out  his  grateful  heart  till  midnight,  but  for  a 
very  earthy  old  verger  insisting  on  locking  up  the  cathedral 
forthwith.  So  he  took  leave  of  his  friend,  with  many  thanks, 
groped  his  way  out,  as  well  as  he  could,  into  the  now  lamp- 
lighted  streets,  and  hurried  off  to  get  his  dinner. 

All  the  farmers  being  by  this  time  jogging  homewards, 
there  was  nobody  in  the  sanded  parlor  of  the  tavern  where  he 
had  left  the  horse  :  so  he  had  his  little  table  drawn  out  close 
before  the  fire,  and  fell  to  work  upon  a  well-cooked  steak  and 
smoking  hot  potatoes,  with  a  strong  appreciation  of  the  ex- 
cellence, and  a  veiy  keen  sense  of  enjoyment.  Beside  him, 
too,  there  stood  a  jug  of  most  stupendous  Wiltshire  beer  ;  aiifl 
the  effect  of  the  whole  was  so  transcendent,  that  he  was  obliged 
e\ery  now  and  then  to  lay  down  his  knife  and  fork,  rub  his 
hands,  and  think  about  it.  By  the  time  the  cheese  and  celery 
came,  Mr.  Pinch  had  taken  a  book  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
could  afford  to  trifle  with  the  viands  ;  now  eating  a  little,  now 
drinking  a  little,  now  reading  a  little,  and  now  stopping  to 
wonder  what  sort  of  a  young  man  the  new  pupil  would  turn 
out  to  be.  He  had  passed  from  this  latter  theme  and  was 
deep  in  his  book  again,  when  the  door  opened,  and  another 
guest  came  in,  bringing  with  him  such  a  quantity  of  cold  air, 
that  he  positively  seemed  at  first  to  put  the  fire  out. 

"  Very  hard  frost  to-night,  sir,"  said  the  new-comer,  cour- 
teously acknowledging  Mr.  Pinch's  withdrawal  of  the  little 
table,  that  he  might  have  place.  "  Don't  disturb  yourself,  I 
beg." 

Though  he  said  this  with  a  vast  amount  of  consideration 
for  Mr.  Pinch's  comfort,  he  dragged  one  of  the  great  leather- 
bottomed  chairs  to  the  very  centre  of  the  hearth,  notwith- 
standing ;  and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  a  foot  on 
each  hob. 

"  My  feet  are  quite  numl)ed.     Ah  !   Bitter  cold  to  be  sure." 

"  You  have  been  in  the  air  some  considerable  time,  I  dare 
say  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  All  day.     Outside  a  coach,  too." 

"That  accounts  for  his  making  the  room  so  cool,"  thought 


8o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pinch.  "  Poor  fellow  !  How  thoroughly  chilled  he  must 
be  !  " 

The  stranger  became  thoughtful  likewise,  and  sat  for  five 
or  ten  minutes  looking  at  the  fire  in  silence.  At  length  he 
rose  and  divested  himself  of  his  shawl  and  great-coat,  which 
(far  different  from  Mr.  Pinch's)  was  a  very  warm  and  thick 
one  J  but  he  was  not  a  whit  more  conversational  out  of  his 
great  coat  than  in  it,  for  he  sat  down  again  in  the  same  place  and 
attitude,  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair  began  to  bite  his  nails. 
He  was  young — one-and-twenty — perhaps — and  handsome  ; 
with  a  keen  dark  eye,  and  a  quickness  of  look  and  manner 
which  made  Tom  sensible  of  a  great  contrast  in  his  own  bear- 
ing, and  caused  him  to  feel  even  more  shy  than  usual. 

There  was  a  clock  in  the  room  which  the  stranger  often 
turned  to  look  at.  Tom  made  frequent  reference  to  it  also  ; 
partly  from  a  nervous  sympathy  with  its  taciturn  companion  ; 
and  partly  because  the  new  pupil  was  to  inquire  for  him  at 
half  after  six,  and  the  hands  were  getting  on  towards  that 
hour.  Whenever  the  stranger  caught  him  looking  at  this 
clock,  a  kind  of  confusion  came  upon  Tom  as  if  he  had  been 
found  out  in  something  ;  and  it  was  a  perception  of  his  un- 
easiness which  caused  the  younger  man  to  say,  perhaps, 
with  a  smile  : 

"  We  both  appear  to  be  rather  particular  about  the  time. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet  a  gentleman  here." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"At  half-past  six,"  said  the  stranger. 

"At  half-past  six,"  said  Tom  in  the  very  same  breath; 
whereupon  the  other  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise. 

"  The  young  gentleman  I  expect,"  remarked  Tom,  timidly, 
"  was  to  inquire  at  that  time  for  a  person  by  the  name  of 
Pinch." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  cried  the  other,  jumping  up.  "  And  I  have 
been  keeping  the  fire  from  you  all  this  while  !  I  had  no  idea 
you  were  Mr.  Pinch.  I  am  the  Mr.  Martin  for  whom  you  were 
to  inquire.  Pray  excuse  me.  How  do  you  do  ?  Oh,  do 
draw  nearer,  pray  !  " 

".Thank  you,"  said  Tom,  "thank  you.  I  am  not  at  all 
cold  ;  and  you  are  ;  and  we  have  a  cold  ride  before  us.  Well, 
if  you  wish  it,  I  will.  I — I  am  very  glad,"  said  Tom,  smiling 
with  an  embarrassed  frankness  pecuharly  his,  and  which  was 
as  plainly  a  confession  of  his  own  imperfections,  and  an  ap- 
peal to  the  kindness  of  the  person  he  addressed,  as  if  he  had 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  8 1 

drawn  one  up  in  simple  language  and  committed  it  to  paper  : 
"  I  am  very  glad,  indeed,  that  you  turn  out  to  be  the  party  I 
expected.  I  was  thinking,  but  a  minute  ago,  that  I  could 
wish  him  to  be  like  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  returned  Martin,  shaking 
hands  with  him  again  ;  "  for  I  assure  you,  I  was  thinking  there 
could  be  no  such  luck  as  Mr.  Pinch's  turning  out  like  jw^." 

"No,  really!  "  said  Tom,  with  great  pleasure.  "Are  you 
serious  ? " 

"  Upon  my  word  I  am,"  replied  his  new  acquaintance. 
"  You  and  I  will  get  on  excellently  well,  I  know  :  which  it's 
no  small  relief  to  me  to  feel,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  not 
at  all  the  sort  of  fellow  who  could  get  on  with  ever}'body,  and 
that's  the  point  on  which  I  had  the  greatest  doubts.  But 
they're  quite  relieved  now. — Do  me  the  favor  to  ring  the  bell, 
will  you  ? " 

Mr.  Pinch  rose,  and  complied  with  great  alacrity — the 
handle  hung  just  over  Martin's  head,  as  he  warmed  himself — 
and  listened  with  a  smiling  face  to  what  his  friend  went  on  to 
say.     It  w'as : 

"  If  you  like  punch,  you'll  allow  me  to  order  a  glass  a-piece 
as  hot  as  it  can  be  made,  that  we  may  usher  in  our  friendship 
in  a  becoming  manner.  To  let  you  into  a  secret,  Mr.  Pinch, 
I  never  was  so  much  in  want  of  something  warm  and  cheer- 
ing in  my  life  ;  but  I  didn't  like  to  run  the  chance  of  being 
found  drinking  it,  without  knowing  what  kind  of  person  you 
were  ;  for  first  impressions,  you  know,  often  go  a  long  way, 
and  last  a  long  time." 

Mr.  Pinch  assented,  and  the  punch  was  ordered.  In  due 
course  it  came  :  hot  and  strong.  After  drinking  to  each  other 
in  the  steaming  mixture,  they  became  quite  confidential. 

"  I'm  a  sort  of  relation  of  Pecksniff's,  you  know,"  said  the 
young  man. 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

"Yes.  My  grandfather  is  his  cousin,  so  he's  kith  and  kin 
to  me,  somehow,  if  you  can  make  that  out.     /can't." 

"Then  Martin  is  your  Christian  name  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch, 
thoughtfully.      "  Oh  !  ''' 

"Of  course  it  is,"  returned  his  friend  :  "  I  wish  it  was  my 
surname,  for  my  own  is  not  a  very  pretty  one,  and  it  takes  a 
long  time  to  sign.     Chuzzlewit  is  my  name." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  with   an  involuntary  start. 

"  You're    not  surprised  at  my  having  two  names,  I  sup 

6 


82  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

pose  ? "  returned  the  other,  setting  his  glass  to  his  lips. 
"  Most  people  have." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  not  at  all.  Oh  dear  no  ! 
Well  !  "  And  then  remembering  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  pri- 
vately cautioned  him  to  say  nothing  in  reference  to  the  old 
gentleman  of  the  same  name  who  had  lodged  at  the  Dragon, 
but  to  reserve  all  mention  of  that  person  for  him,  he  had  no 
better  means  of  hiding  his  confusion,  than  by  raising  his  own 
glass  to  his  mouth.  They  looked  at  each  other  out  of  their 
respective  tumblers  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  put  them 
down  empty. 

"  I  told  them  in  the  stable  to  be  ready  for  us  ten  minutes 
ago  "  said  Mr.  Pinch,  glancing  at  the  clock  again.  "  Shall  we 
go?" 

'  If  you  please,"  returned  the  other. 

"  Would  you  like  to  drive  ? "  said  Mr.  Pinch  ;  his  whole 
face  beaming  with  a  consciousness  of  the  splendor  of  his  offer. 
"You  shall,  if  you  wish." 

"Why,  that  depends,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  laughing, 
"  upon  what  sort  of  horse  you  have.  Because  if  he's  a  bad 
one,  I  would  rather  keep  my  hands  warm  by  holding  them 
comfortably  in  my  great-coat  pockets." 

He  appeared  to  think  this  such  a  good  joke,  that  Mr. 
Pinch  was  quite  sure  it  must  be  a  capital  one.  Accordingly, 
he  laughed  too,  and  was  fully  persuaded  that  he  enjoyed  it 
very  much.  Then  he  settled  his  bill,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  paid 
for  the  punch  ;  and  having  wrapped  themselves  up,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  their  respective  means,  they  went  out  together  to  the 
front  door,  where  Mr.  Pecksniff's  property  stopped  the  way. 

"  I  won't  drive,  thank  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  get- 
ting into  the  sitter's  place.  "  By-the-bye,  there's  a  box  of 
mine.     Can  we  manage  to  take  it .?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Tom.   "  Put  it  in,  Dick,  anywhere  !  " 

It  was  not  precisely  of  that  convenient  size  which  would 
admit  of  its  being  squeezed  into  any  odd  corner,  but  Dick  the 
hostler  got  it  in  somehow,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  helped  him. 
It  was  all  on  Mr.  Pinch's  side,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  said  he 
was  ver}^  much  afraid  it  would  encumber  him  ;  to  which  Tom 
said,  "  Not  at  all  ; "  though  it  forced  him  into  such  an  awk- 
ward position  that  he  had  much  ado  to  see  anything  but  his 
own  knees.  But  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any 
good  ;  and  the  wisdom  of  the  saying  was  verified  in  this  in- 
stance \  for  the  cold  air  came  from  Mr.  Pinch's  side  of  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  S3 

carriage,  and  by  interposing  a  perfect  wall  of  box  and  man 
between  it  and  the  new  pupil,  he  shielded  that  young  gentle- 
man effectually  ;  which  was  a  great  comfort. 

It  was  a  clear  evening,  with  a  bright  moon.  The  whole 
landscape  was  silvered  by  its  light  and  by  the  hoar-frost ;  and 
everything  looked  exquisitely  beautiful.  At  first,  the  great 
serenity  and  peace  through  which  they  travelled,  disposed 
them  both  to  silence  ;  but  in  a  very  short  time  the  punch 
within  them  and  the  healthful  air  without,  made  them  loqua- 
cious, and  they  talked  incessantly.  When  they  were  half-way 
home,  and  stopped  to  give  the  horse  some  water,  Martin 
(who  was  very  generous  with  his  money)  ordered  another  glass 
of  punch,  which  they  drank  between  them,  and  which  had 
not  the  effect  of  making  them  less  conversational  than  before. 
Their  principal  topic  of  discourse  was  naturally  Mr.  Pecksniff 
and  his  family ;  of  whom,  and  of  the  great  obligations  they 
had  heaped  upon  him,  Tom  Pinch,  with  the  tears  standing  in 
his  eyes,  drew  such  a  picture,  as  would  have  inclined  any  one 
of  common  feeling  almost  to  revere  them  ;  and  of  which  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  not  the  slightest  foresight  or  preconceived  idea, 
or  he  certainly  (being  very  humble)  would  not  have  sent  Tom 
Pinch  to  bring  the  pupil  home. 

In  this  way  they  went  on,  and  on,  and  on — in  the  language 
of  the  story-books — until  at  last  the  village  lights  appeared 
before  them,  and  the  church  spire  cast  a  long  reflection  on 
the  grave-yard  grass :  as  if  it  were  a  dial  (alas,  the  truest  in 
the  world  !)  marking,  whatever  light  shone  out  of  Heaven,  the 
flight  of  days  and  weeks  and  years,  by  some  new  shadow  on 
that  solemn  ground. 

"  A  pretty  church  !  "  said  Martin,  observing  that  his  com- 
panion slackened  the  slack  pace  of  the  horse,  as  they  ap- 
proached. 

"  Is  it  not  ? "  cried  Tom,  with  great  pride.  "  There's 
the  sweetest  little  organ  there  you  ever  heard.  I  play  it  for 
them." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Martin.  "  It  is  hardly  worth  the  trouble, 
I  should  think.     What  do  you  get  for  that,  now  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  answered  Tom. 

"Well,"  returned  his  friend,  "3'ou  are  a  ver}'  strange  fel- 
low ! " 

To  which  remark  there  succeeded  a  brief  silence. 

"  When  I  say  nothing,"  observed  Mr.  Pinch,  cheerfully, 
"  I  am  wrong,  and  don't  say  what  I   mean,  because  I  get  a 


84  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

great  deal  of  pleasure  from  it,  and  the  means  of  passing  some 
of  the  happiest  hours  I  know.  It  led  to  something  else  the 
other  day  ;  but  you  will  not  care  to  hear  about  that,  I  dare 
say  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  shall.     What  ?  " 

"  It  led  to  my  seeing,"  said  Tom,  in  a  lower  voice,  "  one  of 
the  loveliest  and  most  beautiful  faces  you  can  possibly  picture 
to  yourself." 

"And  yet  I  am  able  to  picture  a  beautiful  one,"  said  his 
friend,  thoughtfully,  "or  should  be,  if  I  have  any  memory." 

"  She  came,"  said  Tom,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  other's 
arm,  "  for  the  first  time,  very  early  in  the  morning,  when  it 
was  hardly  light ;  and  when  I  saw  her,  over  my  shoulder, 
standing  just  within  the  porch,  I  turned  quite  cold,  almost  be- 
lieving her  to  be  a  spirit.  A  moment's  reflection  got  the  bet- 
ter of  that  of  course,  and  fortunately  it  came  to  my  relief 
so  soon,  that  I  didn't  leave  off  jDlaying." 

"  Why  fortunately  t  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  she  stood  there,  listening.  I  had  my 
spectacles  on,  and  saw  her  through  the  chinks  in  the  curtains 
as  plainly  as  I  see  you  ;  and  she  was  beautiful.  After  a  while 
she  glided  ofT,  and  I  continued  to  play  until  she  was  out  of 
hearing." 

"Why  did  you  do  that.?" 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  "  responded  Tom.  "  Because  she  might 
suppose  I  hadn't  seen  her ;  and  might  return." 

"  And  did  she  ?  " 

"  Certainly  she  did.  Next  morning,  and  next  evening  too  : 
but  always  when  there  were  no  people  about,  and  always  alone. 
I  rose  early  and  sat  there  later,  that  when  she  came,  she 
might  find  the  church  door  open,  and  the  organ  playing,  and 
might  not  be  disappointed.  She  strolled  that  way  for  some 
days,  and  always  staid  to  listen.  But  she  is  gone  now,  and 
of  all  unlikely  things  in  this  wide  world,  it  is  perhaps  the  most 
improbable  that  I  shall  ever  look  upon  her  face  again." 

"  You  don't  know  anything  more  about  her  ?  " 

"No." 
.  "  And  you  never  followed  her,  when  she  went  away  ? ' 

"Why  should  I  distress  her  by  doing  that?"  said  Tom 
Pinch.  "  Is  it  likely  that  she  wanted  my  company  ?  She 
came  to  hear  the  organ,  not  to  see  me  ;  and  would  you  have 
had  me  scare  her  from  a  place  she  seemed  to  grow  quite  fond 
of  ?    Now,  Heaven  bless  her  !  "  cried  Tom,  "to  have  given  her 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT.  8 5 

but  a  minute's  pleasure  every  day,  I  would  have  gone  on  play- 
ing the  organ  at  those  times  until  I  was  an  old  man ;  quite 
contented  if  she  sometimes  thought  of  a  poor  fellow  like  me,  as 
a  part  of  the  music ;  and  more  than  recompensed  if  she  ever 
mLxed  me  up  with  anything  she  liked  as  well  as  she  liked  that !  " 
The  new  pupil  was  clearly  very  much  amazed  by  Mr. 
Pinch's  weakness,  and  would  probably  have  told  him  so,  and 
given  him  some  good  advice,  but  for  their  opportune  arrival  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  door  ;  the  front  door  this  time,  on  account  of 
the  occasion  being  one  of  ceremony  and  rejoicing.  The  same 
man  was  in  waiting  for  the  horse  who  had  been  adjured  by 
Mr.  Pinch  in  the  morning  not  to  yield  to  his  rabid  desire  to 
start ;  and  after  delivering  the  animal  into  his  charge,  and 
beseeching  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  a  whisper  never  to  reveal  a  syl- 
lable of  what  he  Had  just  told  him  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart, 
Tom  led  the  pupil  in,  for  instant  presentation. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  clearly  not  expected  them  for  hours  to 
come  :  for  he  was  surrounded  by  open  books,  and  was  glanc- 
ing from  volume  to  volume,  with  a  black  lead  pencil  in  his 
mouth,  and  a  pair  of  compasses  in  his  hand,  at  a  vast  number 
of  mathematical  diagrams,  of  such  extraordinary  s'hapes  that 
they  looked  like  designs  for  fireworks.  Neither  had  Miss 
Charity  expected  them,  for  she  was  busied,  with  a  capacious 
wicker  basket  before  her,  in  making  impracticable  nightcaps 
for  the  poor.  Neither  had  Miss  Mercy  expected  them,  for 
she  was  sitting  upon  her  stool,  tying  on  tlie — oh  good  gracious  ! 
— the  petticoat  of  a  large  doll  that  she  was  dressing  for  a 
neighbor's  child  :  really,  quite  a  grown-up  doll,  which  made  it 
more  confusing  :  and  had  its  little  bonnet  dangling  by  the  rib- 
bon from  one  of  her  fair  curls,  to  which  she  had  fastened  it, 
lest  it  should  be  lost,  or  sat  upon.  It  would  be  difficult,  if 
not  impossible,  to  conceive  a  family  so  thoroughly  taken  by 
surprise  as  the  Pecksniff's  were,  on  this  occasion. 

"  Bless  my  life  !  ''  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  up,  and  grad- 
ually exchanging  his  abstracted  face  for  one  of  joyful  recog- 
nition. "  Here  already  !  Martin,  my  dear  boy,  I  am  delighted 
to  welcome  you  to  my  poor  house  !  " 

With  this  kind  greeting,  Mr.  Pecksniff  fairly  took  him  to 
his  arms,  and  patted  him  several  times  upon  the  back  with  his 
right  hand  the  while,  as  if  to  express  that  his  feelings  during 
the  embrace  were  too  much  for  utterance. 

"  But  here,"  he  said,  recovering,  "  are  my  daughters,  Mar- 
tin :  my  two  only  children,  whom  (if  you  ever  saw  them)  you 


86  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

have  not  beheld — ah,  these  sad  family  divisions  ! — since  you 
were  infants  together.  Nay,  my  dears,  why  blush  at  being 
detected  in  your  everyday  pursuits  ?  We  had  prepared  to 
give  you  the  reception  of  a  visitor,  Martin,  in  our  little  room 
of  state,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling,  "  but  I  like  this  better, 
I  like  this  better  !  " 

Oh  blessed  star  of  Innocence,  wherever  you  may  be,  how 
did  you  glitter  in  your  home  of  ether,  when  the  two  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs put  forth,  each  her  lily  hand,  and  gave  the  same,  with 
mantling  cheeks,  to  Martin  !  How  did  you  twinkle,  as  if  flut- 
tering with  sympathy,  when  Mercy,  reminded  of  the  bonnet 
in  her  hair,  hid  her  fair  face  and  turned  her  head  aside  :  the 
while  her  gentle  sister  plucked  it  out,  and  smote  her,  with  a 
sister's  soft  reproof,  upon  her  buxom  shoulder  ! 

"And  how,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  round  after  the 
contemplation  of  these  passages,  and  taking  Mr.  Pinch  in  a 
friendly  manner  by  the  elbow,  "  how  has  our  friend  here 
used  you,  Martin  }  " 

"  Very  well  indeed,  sir.  We  are  on  the  best  terms,  I  assure 
you." 

"  Old  Tom  Pinch  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  on  him 
with  affectionate  sadness.  "  Ah  !  It  seems  but  yesterday  that 
Thomas  was  a  boy,  fresh  from  a  scholastic  course.  Yet  years 
have  passed,  I  think,  since  Thomas  Pinch  and  I  first  walked 
the  world  together  !  " 

Mr.  Pinch  could  say  nothing.  He  was  too  much  moved. 
But  he  pressed  his  master's  hand,  and  tried  to  thank  him. 

"And  Thomas  Pinch  and  I,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a 
deeper  voice,  "  will  walk  it  yet,  in  mutual  faithfulness  and 
friendship  !  And  if  it  comes  to  pass  that  either  of  us  be  run 
over,  in  any  of  those  busy  crossings  which'divide  the  streets  of 
life,  the  other  will  convey  him  to  the  hospital  in  Hope,  and  sit 
beside  his  bed  in  Bounty  !  " 

"  Well,  well,  well  !  "  he  added  in  a  happier  tone,  as  he 
shook  Mr.  Pinch's  elbow,  hard.  "  No  more  of  this  !  Martin, 
my  dear  friend,  that  you  may  be  at  home  within  these  walls, 
let  me  show  you  how  we  live,  and  where.     Come  !  " 

With  that  he  took  up  a  lighted  candle,  and,  attended  by 
his  young  relative,  prepared  to  leave  the  room.  At  the  door, 
he  stopped. 

"  You'll  bear  us  company,  Tom  Pinch  ?  " 

Ay,  cheerfully,  though  it  had  been  to  death,  would  Tom 
have  followed  him :  glad  to  lay  down  his  life  for  such  a  man  ! 


MA  ff  TIIV  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


87 


"This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  opening  the  door  of  an  oppo- 
site  parlor,  "  is  the  httle  room  of  state,  I  mentioned  to  you. 
My  girls  have  pride  in  it,  Martin  !  This,"  opening  another 
door,  "  is  the  little  chamber  in  which  my  works  (slight  things 
at  best)  have  been  concocted.  Portrait  of  myself  by  Spiller. 
Bust  by  Spoker.  The  latter  is  considered  a  good  likeness.  I 
seem  to  recognize  something  about  the  left-hand  corner  of  the 
nose,  myself." 

Martin  thought  it  was  very  like,  but  scarcely  intellectual 
enough.  Mr.  Pecksniff  observed  that  the  same  fault  had  been 
found  with  it  before.  It  was  remarkable  it  should  have  struck 
his  young  relation  too.  He  was  glad  to  see  he  had  an  eye  for 
art. 

"  Various  books  you  observe,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  waving 
his  hand  towards  the  wall,  "connected  with  our  pursuit.  I 
have  scribbled  myself,  but  have  not  yet  published.  Be  careful 
how  you  come  up  stairs.  This,"  opening  another  door,  "  is 
my  chamber.  I  read  here  when  the  family  suppose  I  have 
retired  to  rest.  Sometimes  I  injure  my  health,  rather  more 
than  I  can  quite  justify  myself,  by  doing  so  ;  but  art  is  long 
and  time  is  short.  Every  facility  you  see  for  jotting  down 
crude  notions,  even  here." 

These  latter  words  were  explained  by  his  pointing  to  a 
small  round  table  on  which  were  a  lamp,  divers  sheets  of  paper, 
a  piece  of  India  rubber,  and  a  case  of  instruments  :  all  put 
ready,  in  case  an  architectural  idea  should  come  into  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  head  in  the  night,  in  which  event  he  would  in- 
stantly leap  out  of  bed,  and  fix  it  for  ever. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  opened  another  door  on  the  same  floor,  and 
shut  it  again,  all  at  once,  as  if  it  were  a  Blue  Chamber.  But 
before  he  had  well  done  so,  he  looked  smilingly  round,  and 
said  "  Why  not  ?  " 

Martin  couldn't  say  why  not,  because  he  didn't  know  any- 
thing at  all  about  it.  So  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered  himself,  by 
throwing  open  the  door,  and  saying : 

"  My  daughters'  room.  A  poor  first  floor  to  us,  but  a 
bower  to  them.  Very  neat.  Very  airy.  Plants  you  observe  ; 
hyacinths  ;  books  again  ;  birds."  These  birds,  by-the-bye, 
comprised,  in  all,  one  staggering  old  sparrow  without  a  tail, 
which  had  been  borrowed  expressly  from  the  kitchen.  "  Such 
trifles  as  girls  love  are  here.  Nothing  more.  Those  who  seek 
heartless  splendor,  seek  here  in  vain." 

With  that  he  led  them  to  the  floor  above. 


88  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  throwing  wide  the  door  of  the 
memorable  two-pair  front ;  "  is  a  room  where  some  talent  has 
been  developed,  I  believe.  This  is  a  room  in  which  an  idea 
for  a  steeple  occurred  to  me,  that  I  may  one  day  give  to  the 
world.  We  work  here,  my  dear  Martin.  Some  architects 
have  been  bred  in  this  room  :  a  few,  I  think,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  " 

Tom  fully  assented  ;  and  what  is  more,  fully  believed  it. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  passing  the  candle  rapid- 
ly from  roll  to  roll  of  paper,  "  some  traces  of  our  doings  here. 
Salisbury  Cathedral  from  the  north.  From  the  south.  From 
the  east.  From  the  west.  From  the  south-east.  From  the 
nor'-west.  A  bridge.  An  alms-house.  A  jail.  A  church. 
A  powder-magazine.  A  wine  cellar.  A  portico.  A  summer- 
house.  An  ice-house.  Plans,  elevations,  sections,  ever)'  kind 
of  thing.  And  this,"  he  added,  having  by  this  time  reached 
another  large  chamber  on  the  same  story,  with  four  little  beds 
in  it,  "  this  is  your  room,  of  wdiich  Mr.  Pinch  here  is  the  quiet 
sharer.  A  southern  aspect ;  a  charming  prospect ;  Mr.  Pinch's 
little  library,  you  perceive  ;  ever}'thing  agreeable  and  appro- 
priate. If  there  is  any  additional  comfort  you  would  desire 
to  have  here  at  any  time,  pray  mention  it.  Even  to  strangers, 
far  less  to  you,  my  dear  Martin,  there  is  no  restriction  on  that 
point." 

It  was  undoubtedly  true,  and  may  be  stated  in  corrobora- 
tion of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  that  any  pupil  had  the  most  liberal  per- 
mission to  mention  anything  in  this  way  that  suggested  itself 
to  his  fancy.  Some  young  gentlemen  had  gone  on  mentioning 
the  very  same  thing  for  five  years  without  ever  being  stopped. 

"  The  domestic  assistants,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  sleep 
above  ;  and  that  is  all."  After  which,  and  listening  compla- 
cently as  he  went,  to  the  encomiums,  passed  by  his  young 
friend  on  the  arrangements  generally,  he  led  the  way  to  the 
parlor  again. 

Here  a  great  change  had  taken  place  ;  for  festive  prepara- 
tions on  a  rather  extensive  scale  were  already  completed,  and 
the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  were  awaiting  their  return  with  hos- 
pitable looks.  There  were  two  bottles  of  currant  wine,  white 
and  red  ;  a  dish  of  sandwiches  (very  long  and  very  slim)  ; 
another  of  apples ;  another  of  captain's  biscuits  (which  are 
always  a  moist  and  jovial  sort  of  viand)  ;  a  plate  of  oranges 
cut  up  small  and  gritty  ;  with  powdered  sugar,  and  a  highly 
geological  home-made  cake.  The  magnitude  of  these  prepara- 
tions quite  took  away  Tom  Pinch's  breath :  for  though  the 


en 

oo 


< 

u 


O 

o 

W 

X 
a 

as 
a 
X 


OS 


■J> 


II 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  89 

new  pupils  were  usually  let  down  softly,  as  one  may  say,  par- 
ticularly in  the  wine  department,  which  had  so  many  stages  of 
declension,  that  sometimes  a  young  gentleman  was  a  whole 
fortnight  in  getting  to  the  pump  ;  still  this  was  a  banquet  ;  a 
sort  of  Lord  Mayor's  feast  in  private  life  ;  a  something  to  think 
of,  and  hold  on  by,  afterwards. 

To  this  entertainment,  which  apart  from  its  own  intrinsic 
merits  had  the  additional  choice  quality,  that  it  was  in  strict 
keeping  with  the  night,  being  both  light  and  cool,  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff besought  the  company  to  do  full  justice. 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  "•  will  seat  himself  between  you  two, 
my  dears,  and  Mr.  Pinch  will  come  by  me.  Let  us  drink  to 
our  new  inmate,  and  may  we  be  happy  together  !  Martin,  my 
dear  friend,  my  love  to  you  !  Mr.  Pinch,  if  you  spare  the 
bottle  we  shall  quarrel." 

And  trying  (in  his  regard  for  the  feelings  of  the  rest)  to 
look  as  if  the  wine  were  not  acid  and  didn't  make  him  wink, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  did  honor  to  his  own  toast. 

"This,"  he  said,  in  allusion  to  the  party,  not  the  wine,  "  is 
a  Mingling  that  repays  one  for  much  disappointment  and 
vexation.  Let  us  be  merry."  Here  he  took  a  captain's  bis- 
cuit. "  It  is  a  poor  heart  that  never  rejoices  ;  and  our  hearts 
are  not  poor.     No  !  " 

With  such  stimulants  to  merriment  did  he  beguile  the  time, 
and  do  the  honors  of  the  table  ;  while  Mr.  Pinch,  perhaps  to 
assure  himself  that  what  he  saw  and  heard  was  holiday  reality, 
and  not  a  charming  dream,  ate  of  everything,  and  in  particular 
disposed  of  the  slim  sandwiches  to  a  surprising  extent.  Nor 
was  he  stinted  in  his  draughts  of  wine  ;  but  on  the  contrarj^, 
remembering  Mr.  Pecksniff's  speech,  attacked  the  bottle  with 
such  vigor,  that  every  time  he  filled  his  glass  anew,  Miss 
Charity,  despite  her  amiable  resolves,  could  not  repress  a  fixed 
and  stony  glare,  as  if  her  eyes  had  rested  on  a  ghost.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  also  became  thoughtful  at  those  moments,  not  to 
say  dejected  ;  but  as  he  knew  the  vintage,  it  is  very  likely  he 
may  have  been  speculating  on  the  probable  condition  of  Mr. 
Pinch  upon  the  morrow,  and  discussing  within  himself  the 
best  remedies  for  colic. 

Martin  and  the  young  ladies  were  excellent  friends  already, 
and  compared  recollections  of  their  childish  days,  to  their 
mutual  liveliness  and  entertainment.  Miss  Mercy  laughed 
immensely  at  everything  that  was  said  ;  and  sometimes,  after 
glancing  at  the  happy  face  of  Mr.  Pinch,  was  seized  with  such 


9° 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


fits  of  mirth  as  brought  her  to  the  very  confines  of  hysterics. 
But  for  these  bursts  of  gayety,  her  sister,  in  her  better  sense, 
reproved  her ;  observing,  in  an  angry  whisper,  that  it  was  far 
from  being  a  theme  for  jest  •;  and  tliat  she  had  no  patience 
with  the  creature ;  though  it  generally  ended  in  her  laughing 
too — but  much  more  moderately — and  saying,  that  indeed  it 
was  a  little  too  ridiculous  and  intolerable  to  be  serious  about. 

At  length  it  became  high  time  to  remember  the  first  clause 
of  that  great  discovery  made  by  the  ancient  philosopher,  for 
securing  health,  riches,  and  wisdom  ;  the  infallibility  of  which 
has  been  for  generations  verified  by  the  enormous  fortunes 
constantly  amassed  by  chimney-sweepers  and  other  persons 
who  get  up  early  and  go  to  bed  betimes.  The  young  ladies 
accordingly  rose,  and  having  taken  leave  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
with  much  sweetness,  and  of  their  father  with  much  duty,  and 
of  Mr.  Pinch  with  much  condescension,  retired  to  their  bower. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  insisted  on  accompanying  his  5^oung  friend 
up  stairs,  for  personal  superintendence  of  his  comforts  \  and 
taking  him  by  the  arm,  conducted  him  once  more  to  his  bed- 
room, followed  by  Mr.  Pinch,  who  bore  the  light. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  seating  himself  with  folded 
arms  on  one  of  the  spare  beds.  "  I  don't  see  any  snuffers  in 
that  candlestick.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  going  down,  and 
asking  for  a  pair  }  " 

Mr.  Pinch,  only  too  happy  to  be  useful,  went  off  directly. 

"  You  will  excuse  Thomas  Pinch's  want  of  polish,  Martin," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  smile  of  patronage  and  pity,  as  soon 
as  he  had  left  the  room.     "  He  means  well." 

"  He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  sir." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff".  "  Yes.  Thomas  Pinch 
means  well.  He  is  very  grateful.  I  have  never  regretted 
having  befriended  Thomas  Pinch." 

"  I  should  think  you  never  would,  sir." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "No.  I  hope  not.  Poor  fel- 
low, he  is  always  disposed  to  do  his  best ;  but  he  is  not  gifted. 
You  will  make  him  useful  to  you,  Martin,  if  you  please.  If 
Thomas  has  a  fault,  it  is  that  he  is  sometimes  a  little  apt  to 
forget  his  position.  But  that  is  soon  checked.  Worthy 
soul '!     You  will  find  him  easy  to  manage.     Good  night  !  " 

"Good  night,  sir." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Pinch  had  returned  with  the  snuffers. 

"  And  good  night  to  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff. 
''  And  sound  sleep  to  you  both.     Bless  you  !     Bless  you  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  91 

Invoking  this  benediction  on  tlie  heads  of  his  young 
friends  with  great  fervor,  he  withdrew  to  his  own  room  ;  while 
they,  being  tired,  soon  fell  asleep.  If  IVIartin  dreamed  at  all, 
some  clew  to  the  matter  of  his  visions  may  possibly  be 
gathered  from  the  after-pages  of  this  histor}^  Those  of 
Thomas  Pinch  were  all  of  holidays,  church  organs,  and 
seraphic  Pecksniffs.  It  was  some  time  before  Mr.  Pecksniff 
dreamed  at  all,  or  even  sought  his  pillow,  as  he  sat  for  full 
two  hours  before  the  fire  in  his  own  chamber,  looking  at  the 
coals  and  thinking  deeply.  But  he,  too,  slept  and  dreamed 
at  last.  Thus  in  the  quiet  hours  of  the  night,  one  house 
shuts  in  as  many  incoherent  and  incongruous  fancies  as  a 
madman's  head. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


COMPRISES,  AMONG  OTHER  IMPORTANT  MATTERS,  PECKSNIFFIAN 
AND  ARCHITECTURAL,  AN  EXACT  RELATION  OF  THE  PRO- 
GRESS MADE  BY  MR.  PINCH  IN  THE  CONFIDENCE  AND 
FRIENDSHIP    OF    THE    NEW    PUPIL, 

It  was  morning  ;  and  the  beautiful  Aurora,  of  whom  so 
much  had  been  written,  said,  and  sung,  did,  with  her  rosy 
fingers,  nip  and  tweak  Miss  Pecksniff's  nose.  It  was  the  frolic- 
some custom  of  the  Goddess,  in  her  intercourse  with  the  fair 
Cherry,  so  to  do :  or  in  more  prosaic  phrase,  the  tip  of  that 
feature  in  the  sweet  girl's  countenance,  was  always  very  red 
at  breakfast-time.  For  the  most  part,  indeed,  it  wore,  at  that 
season  of  the  day,  a  scraped  and  frosty  look,  as  if  it  had  been 
rasped  ;  while  a  similar  phenomenon  developed  itself  in  her 
humor,  which  was  then  observed  to  be  of  a  sharp  and  acid 
quality,  as  though  an  extra  lemon  (figuratively  speaking)  had 
been  squeezed  into  the  nectar  of  her  disposition,  and  had 
rather  damaged  its  flavor. 

This  additional  pungency  on  the  part  of  the  fair  young 
creature  led,  on  ordinary  occasions,  to  such  slight  conse- 
quences as  the  copious  dilution  of  Mr.  Pinch's  tea,  or  to  his 
coming  off  uncommonly  short  in  respect  of  butter,  or  to  other 
the  like  results.     But  on  the  morning  after  the  Installation 


p2  MARTIN-  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Banquet,  she  suffered  him  to  wander  to  and  fro  among  the 
eatables  and  drinkables,  a  perfectly  free  and  unchecked  man  ; 
so  utterly  to  Mr.  Pinch's  wonder  and  confusion,  that  like  the 
wretched  captive  who  recovered  his  liberty  in  his  old  age,  he 
could  make  but  little  use  of  his  enlargement,  and  fell  into  a 
strange  kind  of  flutter  for  want  of  some  kind  hand  to  scrape 
his  bread,  and  cut  him  off  in  the  article  of  sugar  with  a  lump, 
and  pay  him  those  other  little  attentions  to  which  he  was 
accustomed.  There  was  something  almost  awful,  too,  about 
the  self-possession  of  the  new  pupil;  who  "troubled"  Mr. 
Pecksniff  for  the  loaf,  and  helped  himself  to  a  rasher  of  that 
gentleman's  own  particular  and  private  bacon,  with  all  the 
coolness  in  life.  He  even  seemed  to  think  that  he  was  doing 
quite  a  regular  thing,  and  to  expect  that  Mr.  Pinch  would 
follow  his  example,  since  he  took  occasion  to  observe  of  that 
young  man  "  that  he  didn't  get  on  ;  "  a  speech  of  so  tremen- 
dous a  character,  that  Tom  cast  down  his  eyes  involuntarily, 
and  felt  as  if  he  himself  had  committed  some  horrible  deed 
and  heinous  breach  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  confidence.  Indeed, 
the  agony  of  having  such  an  indiscreet  remark  addressed  to 
him  before  the  assembled  family,  was  breakfast  enough  in 
itself,  and  would,  without  any  other  matter  of  reflection,  have 
settled  Mr.  Pinch's  business  and  quenched  his  appetite,  for 
one  meal,  though  he  had  been  never  so  hungry. 

The  young  ladies,  however,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  likewise, 
remained  in  the  very  best  of  spirits  in  spite  of  these  severe 
trials,  though  with  something  of  a  mysterious  understanding 
among  themselves.  When  the  meal  was  nearly  over,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  smilingly  explained  the  cause  of  their  common 
satisfaction. 

"It  is  not  often,"  he  said,  "Martin,  that  my  daughters 
and  I  desert  our  quiet  home  to  pursue  the  giddy  round  of 
pleasures  that  revolves  abroad.  But  we  think  of  doing  so 
to-day." 

"  Indeed,  sir !  "  cried  the  new  pupil. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tapping  his  left  hand  with  a 
letter  which  he  held  in  his  right.  "  I  have  a  summons  here 
to  repair  to  London :  on  professional  business,  my  dear 
Martin  ;  strictly  on  professional  business  ;  and  I  promised  my 
girls,  long  ago,  that  whenever  that  happened  again,  they 
should  accompany  me.  We  shall  go  forth  to-night  by  the 
heavy  coach — like  the  dove  of  old,  my  dear  Martin — and  it 
will  be  a  week  before  we  again  deposit  our  olive-branches  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT. 


93 


the    passage.     When    I    say    oUve-branches,"    observed    Mr. 
Pecksniff,  in    explanation,  "  I    mean,  our   unpretending    lug- 

"  I  hope  the  young  ladies  will  enjoy  their  trip,"  said 
Martin. 

"  Oh  !  that  I'm  sure  we  shall  !  "  cried  Mercy,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  Good  gracious.  Cherry,  my  darling,  the  idea  of 
London ! " 

"  Ardent  child  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gazing  on  her  in  a 
dreamy  way.  "  And  yet  there  is  a  melancholy  sweetness  in 
these  youthful  hopes  !  It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  they  never 
can  be  realized.  I  remember  thinking  once  myself,  in  the 
days  of  my  childho.od,  that  pickled  onions  grew  on  trees,  and 
that  every  elephant  was  born  with  an  impregnable  castle  on 
his  back.  I  ha\'e  not  found  the  fact  to  be  so  ;  far  from  it ; 
and  yet  those  visions  have  comforted  me  under  circumstances 
of  trial.  Even  when  1  have  had  the  anguish  of  discovering 
that  I  have  nourished  in  my  breast  an  ostrich,  and  not  a 
human  pupil  :  even  in  that  hour  of  agony,  thev  have  toothed 
me." 

At  this  dread  allusion  to  John  Westlock,  Mr.  Pinch  pre- 
cipitately choked  in  his  tea  ;  for  he  had  that  very  morning 
received  a  letter  from  him,  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  \ery  well  knew. 

"You  will  take  care,  my  dear  Martin,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
resuming  his  former  cheerfulness,  "  that  the  house  does  not 
run  away  in  our  absence.  We  leave  you  in  charge  of  e\-ery- 
thing.  There  is  no  mystery;  all  is  free  and  open.  Unlike 
the  young  man  in  the  Eastern  tale — who  is  described  as  a  one- 
eyed  almanack,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  " 

"A  one-eyed  calendar,  I  think,  sir,"  faltered  Tom. 

"  They  are  pretty  nearly  the  same  thing,  I  believe,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  compassionately  ;  "  or  they  used  to  be 
in  my  time.  Unlike  that  young  man,  my  dear  Martin,  you 
are  forbidden  to  enter  no  corner  of  tliis  house  \  but  are  re- 
quested to  make  yourself  perfectly  at  home  in  every  part  of  it. 
You  will  be  jovial,  my  dear  Martin,  and  will  kill  the  fatted 
calf  if  you  please  !  " 

There  was  not  the  least  objection,  doubtless,  to  the  young 
man's  slaughtering  and  appropriating  to  his  own  use  any  calf, 
fat  or  lean,  that  he  might  happen  to  find  upon  the  premises  ; 
but  as  no  such  animal  chanced  at  that  time  to  be  grazing  on 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  estate,  this  request  must  be  considered  rather 
as  a  polite  compliment  than  a  substantial  hospitality.     It  was 


54  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  finishing  ornament  of  the  conversation  ;  for  when  he  had 
deUvered  it,  Mr.  Pecksniff  rose,  and  led  the  way  to  that  hot- 
bed of  architectural  genius,  the  two-pair  front. 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said,  searching  among  the  papers,  "'how 
you  can  best  employ  yourself,  Martin,  while  I  am  absent. 
Suppose  you  were  to  give  me  your  idea  of  a  monument  to  a 
Lord  Mayor  of  London  ;  or  a  tomb  for  a  sheriff ;  or  your 
notion  of  a  cow-house  to  be  erected  in  a  nobleman's  park. 
Do  you  know,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  folding  his  hands, 
and  looking  at  his  young  relation  with  an  air  of  pensive 
interest,  "  that  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  your  notion  of 
a  cow-house .''  " 

But  Martin  by  no  means  appeared  to  relish  this  suggestion. 

"  A  pump,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is  very  chaste  practice. 
I  have  found  that  a  lamp-post  is  calculated  to  refine  the  mind 
and  give  it  a  classical  tendency.  An  ornamental  turnpike 
has  a  remarkable  effect  upon  the  imagination.  What  do  you 
say  to  beginning  with  an  ornamental  turnpike  ?  " 

"Whatever  Mr.  Pecksniff  pleased,"  said  Martin,  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Stay,"  said  that  gentleman.  "  Come  !  as  you're  am- 
bitious, and  are  a  very  neat  draughtsman,  you  shall — ha,  ha  ! 
— you  shall  try  your  hand  on  these  proposals  for  a  grammar- 
school  ;  regulating  your  plan,  of  course,  by  the  printed  par- 
ticulars. Upon  my  word,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  merrily, 
"  I  shall  be  very  curious  to  see  what  you  make  of  the 
grammar-school.  Who  knows  but  a  young  man  of  your  taste 
might  hit  upon  something,  impracticable  and  unlikely  in  itself, 
but  which  I  could  put  into  shape  ?  For  it  really  is,  my  dear 
Martin,  it  really  is  in  the  finishing  touches  alone,  that  great 
experience  and  long  study  in  these  matters  tell.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Now  it  really  will  be,"  continued  Mr.  Pecksniff,  clapping  his 
young  friend  on  the  back  in  his  droll  humor,  "an  amusement 
to  me,  to  see  what  you  make  of  the  grammar-school." 

Martin  readily  undertook  this  task,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
forthwith  proceeded  to  entrust  him  with  the  materials  neces- 
sary for  its  execution ;  dwelling  meanwhile  on  the  magical 
effect  of  a  few  finishing  touches  from  the  hand  of  a  master  ; 
which,  indeed,  as  some  people  said  (and  these  were  the  old 
enemies  again ! )  was  unquestionably  very  surprising,  and 
almost  miraculous ;  as  there  were  cases  on  record  in  which 
the  masterly  introduction  of  an  additional  back  window,  or  a 
kitchen  door,  or  half-a-dozen  steps,  or  even  a  water  spout,  had 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  g^ 

made  the  design  of  a  pupil  Mr.  Pecksniff's  own  work,  and 
had  brought  substantial  rewards  into  that  gentleman's  pocket. 
Eut  such  is  the  magic  of  genius,  which  changes  all  it  handles 
into  gold  ! 

"  When  your  mind  requires  to  be  refreshed,  by  change  of 
occupation,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Thomas  Pinch  will  instruct 
you  in  the  art  of  surx^eying  the  back  garden,  or  in  ascertain- 
ing the  dead  level  of  the  road  between  this  house  and  the 
finger-post,  or  in  any  other  practical  and  pleasing  pursuit. 
There  are  a  cart-load  of  loose  bricks,  and  a  score  or  two  of 
old  flower-pots,  in  the  back  yard.  If  you  could  pile  them  up, 
my  dear  Martin,  into  any  form  which  would  remind  me  on  my 
return,  say  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  or  the  Mosque  of  St. 
Sophia  at  Constantinople,  it  would  be  at  once  improving  to 
you  and  agreeable  to  my  feelings.  And  now,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  in  conclusion,  "  to  drop,  for  the  present,  our  pro- 
fessional relations  and  advert  to  private  rtiatters,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  talk  with  you  in  my  own  room,  while  I  pack  up  my 
portmanteau." 

Martin  attended  him  ;  and  they  remained  in  secret  con- 
ference together  for  an  hour  or  more  ;  leaving  Tom  Pinch 
alone.  When  the  young  man  returned,  he  was  very  taciturn 
and  dull,  in  which  state  he  remained  all  day ;  so  that  Tom, 
after  tr}'ing  him  once  or  twice  with  indifferent  conversation, 
felt  a  delicacy  in  obtruding  himself  upon  his  thoughts,  and 
said  no  more. 

He  would  not  have  had  leisure  to  say  much,  had  his  new 
friend  been  ever  so  loquacious ;  for  first  of  all  Mr.  Pecksniff 
called  him  down  to  stand  upon  the  top  of  his  portmanteau 
and  represent  ancient  statues  there,  until  such  time  as  it 
would  consent  to  be  locked  ;  and  then  Miss  Charity  called 
him  to  come  and  cord  her  trunk  ;  and  then  Miss  Mercy  sent 
for  him  to  come  and  mend  her  box  ;  and  then  he  wrote  the 
fullest  possible  cards  for  all  the  luggage  ;  and  then  he  volun- 
teered to  carry  it  all  down  stairs  ;  and  after  that  to  see  it 
safely  carried  on  a  couple  of  barrows  to  the  old  finger-post  at 
the  end  of  the  lane  ;  and  then  to  mind  it  till  the  coach  came 
up.  In  short,  his  day's  work  would  have  been  a  pretty  hea\y 
one  for  a  porter,  but  his  thorough  good-will  made  nothing  of 
it ;  and  as  he  sat  upon  the  luggage  at  last,  waiting  for  the 
Pecksniffs,  escorted  by  the  new  pupil,  to  come  down  the  lane, 
his  heart  was  light  with  the  hope  of  having  pleased  his  bene- 
factor. 


96 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  I  was  almost  afraid,"  said  Tom,  taking  a  letter  from  his 
pocket,  and  wiping  his  face,  for  he  was  hot  with  busthng  about 
though  it  was  a  cold  day,  "  that  I  shouldn't  have  had  time  to 
write  it,  and  that  would  have  been  a  thousand  pities ;  postage 
from  such  a  distance  being  a  serious  consideration,  when  one's 
not  rich.  She  will  be  glad  to  see  my  hand,  poor  girl,  and  to 
hear  that  Pecksniff  is  as  kind  as  ever.  I  would  have  asked 
John  Westlock  to  call  and  see  her,  and  tell  her  all  about  me 
by  word  of  mouth,  but  I  was  afraid  he  might  speak  against 
Pecksniff  to  her,  and  make  her  uneasy.  Besides,  they  are 
particular  people  where  she  is,  and  it  might  have  rendered  her 
situation  uncomfortable  if  she  had  had  a  visit  from  a  young 
man  like  John.     Poor  Ruth  !  " 

Tom  Pinch  seemed  a  little  disposed  to  be  melancholy  for 
half  a  minute  or  so,  but  he  found  comfort  very  soon,  and  pur- 
sued his  ruminations  thus  : 

"  I'm  a  nice  m'an,  I  don't  think,  as  John  used  to  say  (John 
was  a  kind,  meny-hearted  fellow  :  I  wish  he  had  liked  Peck- 
sniff better),  to  be  feeling  low,  on  account  of  the  distance  be- 
tween us,  when  I  ought  to  be  thinking,  instead,  of  my  extri 
ordinary  good-luck  in  having  ever  got  here.  I  must  have  been 
born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  my  mouth,  I  am  sure,  to  have  ever 
come  across  Pecksniff.  And  here  have  I  fallen  again  into  my 
usual  good-luck  with  the  new  pupil  !  Such  an  affable,  gener- 
ous, free  fellow,  as  he  is,  I  never  saw.  Why,  we  were  com- 
panions directly !  and  he  a  relation  of  Pecksniff's  too,  and  a 
clever,  dashing  youth  who  might  cut  his  way  through  the 
world  as  if  it  were  a  cheese  !  Here  he  comes  while  the  words 
are  on  my  lips,"  said  Tom :  "walking  down  the  lane  as  if  the 
lane  belonged  to  him." 

In  truth,  the  new  pupil,  not  at  all  disconcerted  by  the 
honor  of  having  Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff  on  his  arm,  or  by  the 
affectionate  adieux  of  that  young  lady,  approached  as  Mr. 
Pinch  spoke,  followed  by  Miss  Charity  and  Mr.  Pecksniff.. 
As  the  coach  appeared  at  the  same  moment,  Tom  lost  no  time 
in  entreating  the  gentleman  last  mentioned,  to  undertake  the 
deliveiy  of  his  letter. 

"  Oh  !  ■'  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  superscription. 
"  For  your  sister,  Thomas.  Yes,  oh  yes,  it  shall  be  delivered, 
Mr.  Pinch.  Make  your  mind  easy  upon  that  score.  She  shall 
certainly  have  it,  Mr.  Pinch." 

He  made  the  promise  with  so  much  condescension  and 
patronage,  that  Tom  felt  he  had  asked  a  great  deal  (this  had 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLElVir.  97 

not  occurred  to  his  mind  before),  and  thanked  him  earnestly. 
1  he  Miss  Pecksnififs,  according  to  a  custom  they  had,  were 
amused  beyond  description,  at  the  mention  of  Mr.  Pinch's 
sister.  Oh  the  fright !  The  bare  idea  of  a  Miss  Pinch ! 
Good  heavens  ! 

Tom  was  greatly  pleased  to  see  them  so  merry,  for  he  took 
it  as  a  token  of  their  favor,  and  good-humored  regard.  There- 
fore he  laughed  too  and  rubbed  his  hands,  and  wished  them 
a  pleasant  journey  and  safe  return,  and  was  quite  brisk.  Even 
when  the  coach  had  rolled  away  with  the  olive-branches  in 
the  boot  and  the  family  of  doves  inside,  he  stood  waving  his 
hand  and  bowing :  so  much  gratified  by  the  unusually  courte- 
ous demeanor  of  the  young  ladies,  that  he  was  quite  regard- 
less, for  the  moment,  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  who  stood  leaning 
thoughtfully  against  the  finger-post,  and  who,  after  disposing 
of  his  fair  charge,  had  hardly  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 
The  perfect  silence  which  ensued  upon  the  bustle  and  de- 
parture of  the  coach,  together  with  the  sharp  air  of  the  wintry 
afternoon,  roused  them  both  at  the  same  time.  They  turned, 
as  by  mutual  consent,  and  moved  off,  arm-in-arm. 

"  How  melancholy  you  are  ! "  said  Tom  "  what  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing  worth  speaking  of,"  said  Martin.  "  Very  little 
more  than  was  the  matter  yesterday,  and  much  more,  I  hope, 
than  will  be  the  matter  to-morrow.  I'm  out  of  spirits.  Pinch." 
"Well,"  cried  Tom,  ''now  do  you  know  I  am  in  capital 
spirits  to-day,  and  scarcely  ever  felt  more  disposed  to  be  good 
company.  It  was  a  very  kind  thing  in  your  predecessor,  John, 
to  write  to  me,  was  it  not  ? " 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Martin  carelessly;  "I  should  have 
thought  he  would  have  had  enough  to  do  to  enjoy  himself,  with- 
out thinking  of  you.  Pinch." 

"Just  what  I  felt  to  be  so  very  likely,"  Tom  rejoined; 
"but  no,  he  keeps  his  word,  and  says,  'My  dear  Pinch,  I 
often  think  of  you,'  and  all  sorts  of  kind  and  considerate 
things  of  that  description." 

"  He  must  be  a  devilish  good-natured  fellow-,"  said  Mar- 
tin, somewhat  peevishly  :  "  because  he  can't  mean  that,  you 
know." 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  can,  eh  ? "  said  Tom,  looking  wist- 
fully in  his  companion's  face.  "  He  says  so  to  please  me,  you 
think  ? " 

"  Why,  is  it  likely,"  rejoined  Martin,  with  greater  earnest- 

7 


98 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ness,  "  that  a  young  man  newly  escaiDed  from  this  kennel  of 
a  place,  and  fresh  to  all  the  delights  of  being  his  own  master 
in  London,  can  have  much  leisure  or  inclination  to  think 
favorably  of  anything  or  anybody  he  has  left  behind  him 
here  ?     I  put  it  to  you,  Pinch,  is  it  natural  ?  " 

After  a  short  reflection,  Mr.  Pinch  replied,  in  a  more  sub- 
di^d  tone,  that  to  be  sure  it  was  unreasonable  to  expect  any 
such  thing,  and  that  he  had  no  doubt  Martin  knew  best. 

"  Of  course  I  know  best,"  Martin  observed. 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  mildly.  "  I  said  so." 
And  when  he  had  made  this  rejoinder,  they  fell  into  a  blank 
silence  again,  which  lasted  until  they  reached  home  :  by  which 
time  it  was  dark. 

Now,  Miss  Charity  Pecksniff,  in  consideration  of  the 
inconvenience  of  carrying  them  with  her  in  the  coach,  and  the 
impossibility  of  preserving  them  by  artificial  means  until  the 
family's  return,  liad  set  forth,  in  a  couple  of  plates,  the  frag- 
ments of  yesterday's  feast.  In  virtue  of  which  liberal  arrange- 
ment, they  had  the  happiness  to  find  awaiting  them  in  the 
parlor  two  chaotic  heaps  of  the  remains  of  last  night's  pleasure, 
consisting  of  certain  filmy  bits  of  oranges,  some  mummied 
sandwiches,  various  disrupted  masses  of  the  geological  cake, 
and  several  entire  captain's  biscuits.  Thar  choice  liquor  in 
which  to  steep  these  dainties  might  not  be  wanting,  the  re- 
mains of  the  two  bottles  of  currant  wine  had  been  poured  to- 
gether and  corked  with  a  curl-paper  ;  so  that  every  material 
was  at  hand  for  making  quite  a  heavy  night  of  it. 

Martin  Chuzzlewit  beheld  these  roystering  preparations 
with  infinite  contempt,  and  stirring  the  fire  into  a  blaze  (to 
the  great  destruction  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  coals),  sat  moodily 
down  before  it,  in  the  most  comfortable  chair  he  could  find. 
That  he  might  the  better  squeeze  himself  into  the  small  cor- 
ner that  was  left  for  him,  Mr.  Pinch  took  up  his  position  on 
Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff's  stool,  and  setting  his  glass  down  upon 
the  hearth-rug  and  putting  his  plate  upon  his  knees,  began  to 
enjoy  himself. 

If  Diogenes  coming  to  life  again  could  have  rolled  him- 
self, tub  and  all,  into  Mr.  Pecksniff's  parlor,  and  could  have 
seen  Tom  Pinch  as  he  sat  on  Mercy  Pecksniff's  stool,  with 
his  plate  and  glass  before  him,  lie  could  not  have  faced  it  out, 
though  in  his  surliest  mood,  but  must  have  smiled  good-tem- 
peredly.  'I'he  perfect  and  entire  satisfaction  of  Tom;  his 
surpassing  appreciation  of  the  husky  sandwiches,  which  cnun- 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


99 


bled  in  his  mouth  like  saw-dust  ;  the  unspeakable  relish  with 
which  he  swallowed  the  thin  wine  by  drops,  and  smacked  his 
lips,  as  though  it  were  so  rich  and  generous  that  to  lose  an 
atom  of  its  fruity  flavor  were  a  sin  ;  the  look  with  which  he 
paused  sometimes,  with  his  glass  in  his  hand,  proposing  silent 
toasts  to  himself ;  and  the  anxious  shade  that  came  upon  his 
contented  face  when  after  wandering  round  the  room,  exulting 
in  its  uninvaded  snugness,  his  glance  encountered  the  dull  brow 
of  his  companion ;  no  cynic  in  the  world,  though  in  his  hatred 
of  its  men  a  very  gritfin,  could  have  withstood  these  things  in 
Thomas.  Pinch. 

Some  men  would  have  slapped  him  on  the  back,  and 
pledged  him  in  a  bumper  of  the  currant  wine,  though  it  had 
been  the  sharpest  vmegar — ay,  and  liked  its  flavor  too  ;  some 
would  have  seized-  him  by  his  honest  hand,  and  thanked  him 
for  the  lesson  that  his  simple  nature  taught  them.  Some 
would  have  laughed  with,  and  others  would  have  laughed  at 
him  ;  of  which  last  class  was  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  who,  una- 
ble to  restrain  himself,  at  last  laughed  loud  and  long. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Tom,  nodding  approvingly.  "  Cheer 
up  !     That's  capital  !  " 

At  which  encouragement,  young  Martin  laughed  again  ; 
and  said,  as  soon  as  he  had  breath  and  gravity  enough  : 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  as  you  are.  Pinch." 

"  Didn't  you  though  .?  "  said  1  om.  "  Well,  it's  very  likely 
you  do  find  me  strange,  because  I  have  hardly  seen  anything 
of  the  world,  and  you  ha\e  seen  a  good  deal  I  dare  say  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well  for  my  time  of  life,"  rejoined  Martin,  draw- 
ing his  chair  still  nearer  to  the  fire,  and  spreading  his  feet  out 
on  the  fender.  "  Deuce  take  it,  I  must  talk  openly  to  some- 
body.    rU  talk  openly  to  you.  Pinch." 

"  Do  !  "  said  Tom.  "  1  shall  take  it  as  being  very  friendly 
of  you." 

"I'm  not  in  your  way,  am  I  ?  "  inciuired  Martin,  glancing 
down  at  Mr.  Pinch,  who  was  by  this  time  looking  at  the  fire 
over  his  leg. 

"  Not  at  all  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  You  must  know  then,  to  make  short  of  a  long  stor)%" 
said  Martin,  beginning  with  a  kind  of  effort,  as  if  the  revela- 
tion were  not  agreeable  to  him  ;  "  that  I  have  been  bred  up 
from  childhood  with  great  expectations,  and  have  always  been 
taught  to  believe  that  I  should  be,  one  day,  very  rich.  So  I 
should  have   been,  but  for  certain  brief   reasons   which  1  am 


lOo  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

going  to  tell  you,  and  which  have  led  to  my  being  disin- 
herited." 

"  By  your  father  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pinch,  with  open  eyes. 

"  By  my  grandfather.  I  have  had  no  parents  these  many 
years.     Scarcely  within  my  remembrance." 

"  Neither  have  I,"  said  I'om,  touching  the  young  man's 
hand  with  his  own  and  timidly  withdrawing  it  again.  "  Dear 
me!" 

"  Why  as  to  that  you  know,  Pinch,"  pursued  the  other, 
stirring  the  fire  again,  and  speaking  in  his  rapid,  off-hand  way, 
"  it's  all  ver)^  right  and  proper  to  be  fond  of  pareijts  when 
we  have  them,  and  to  bear  them  in  remembrance  after  they're 
dead,  if  you  have  ever  known  anything  of  them.  But  as  I 
never  did  know  anything  about  mine  personally,  you  know, 
why  I  can't  be  expected  to  be  very  sentimental  about  'em. 
And  I  am  not :   that's  the  truth." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  just  then  looking  thoughtfully  at  the 
bars.  But  on  his  companion  pausing  in  this  place,  he  started, 
and  said  "  Oh  !  of  course  "  and  composed  himself  to  listen 


agam. 


"In  a  word,"  said  Martin,  "  I  have  been  bred  and  reared 
all  my  life  by  this  grandfather  of  whom  I  have  just  spoken. 
Nmv,  he  has  a  great  many  good  points  ;  there  is  no  doubt 
about  that ;  I'll  not  disguise  the  fact  from  you  ;  but  he  has  two 
very  great  faults,  which  are  the  staple  of  his  bad  side.  In  the 
first  place,  he  has  the  most  confirmed  obstinacy  of  character 
you  ever  met  with  in  any  human  creature.  In  the  second,  he 
is  most  abominably  selfish." 

"  Is  he  indeed  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  In  those  two  respects,"  returned  the  other,  "  there  never 
was  such  a  man.  I  have  often  heard  from  those  who  know, 
that  they  have  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the  failings  of  our  fam- 
ily j  and  I  believe  there's  some  truth  in  it.  But  I  can't  say  of 
my  own  knowledge.  All  I  have  to  do,  you  know,  is  to  be 
very  thankful  that  they  haven't  descended  to  me,  and  to  be 
very  careful  that  I  don't  contract  'em." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pinch.     "Ver}'  proper." 

"Well,  sir,"  resumed  Martin,  stirring  the  fire  once  more, 
arid  drawing  his  chair  still  closer  to  it,  "  his  selfishness  makes 
him  exacting,  you  see  ;  and  his  obstinacy  makes  him  resolute 
in  his  exactions.  The  consequence  is  that  he  has  always  ex- 
acted a  great  deal  from  me  in  the  way  of  respect,  and  sub- 
mission, and  self-denial  when  his  wishes  were  in  question,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  loi 

SO  forth.  I  have  borne  a  great  deal  from  him,  because  I  liave 
been  under  obligations  to  him  (if  one  can  ever  be  said  to  be 
under  obligations  to  one's  own  grandfather),  and  because  I 
have  been  really  attached  to  him  ;  but  we  have  had  a  great 
many  quarrels  for  all  that,  for  I  could  not  accommodate  my- 
self to  his  ways  very  often — not  out  of  the  least  reference  to 

myself  you  understand,  but  because "  he  stammered  here, 

and  was  rather  at  a  loss. 

Mr.  Pinch  being  about  the  worst  man  in  the  world  to  help 
anybody  out  of  a  difficulty  of  this  sort;  said  nothing. 

"  Well  !  as  you  understand  me,"  resumed  Martin,  quick- 
ly, "  I  needn't  hunt  for  the  precise  expression  I  want.  Now, 
I  come  to  the  cream  of  my  story,  and  the  occasion  of  my  be- 
ing here.     I  am  in  love.  Pinch." 

Mr.  Pinch  looked  up  into  his  face  with  increased  interest. 

"  I  say  I  am  in  love.  I  am  in  love  with  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  girls  the  sun  ever  shone  upon.  But  she  is  wholly  and 
entirely  dependent  upon  the  pleasure  of  my  grandfather ; 
and  if  he  were  to  know^  that  she  favored  my  passion,  she 
would  lose  her  home  and  every  thing  she  possesses  in  the 
world.     There  is  nothing  very  selfish  in  that  love,  I  think  }  " 

"  Selfish  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  You  have  acted  nobly.  To  love 
her  as  I  am  sure  you  do,  and  yet  in  consideration  for  her  sj^te 
of  dependence,  not  even  to  disclose " 

"What  are  you  talking  about.  Pinch  ?"  said  Martin  pet- 
tishly :  "  don't  make  yourself  ridiculous,  my  good  fellow  ! 
What  do  you  mean  by  not  disclosing?  " 

"1  beg  your  pardon,"  answered  Tom.  "  I  thought  you 
meant  that,  or  I  wouldn't  have  said  it." 

"  If  I  didn't  tell  her  I  loved  her,  where  would  be  the  use 
of  my  being  in  love  ?  "  said  Martin  :  "  unless  to  keep  myself  in 
perpetual  state  of  worry  and  vexation  ? " 

"That's  true,"  Tom  answered.  "Well  !  I  can  guess  what 
she  said  when  you  told  her,"  he  added,  glancing  at  Martin's 
handsome  face. 

"  Why,  not  exactly.  Pinch,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  slight 
frown:  "because  she  has  some  girlish  notions  about  duty 
and  gratitude,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  which  are  rather  hard  to 
fathom  ;  but  in  the  main  you  are  right.  Her  heart  was  mine, 
I  found." 

"Just  what  I  supposed,"  said  Tom.  "Quite  natural!" 
and,  in  his  great  satisfaction,  he  took  a  long  sip  out  of  his 
wineglass 


I02  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Although  I  had  conducted  myself  from  the  first  with  the 
utmost  circumspection,"  pursued  Martin,  "  I  had  not  managed 
matters  so  well  but  that  my  grandfather,  who  -is  full  of  jeal- 
ousy and  distrust,  suspected  me  of  loving  her.  He  said  noth- 
ing to  her,  but  straightway  attacked  me  in  private,  and 
charged  me  with  designing  to  corrupt  the  fidelity  to  himself 
(there  you  observe  his  sefishness),  of  a  young  creature  whom 
he  had  trained  and  educated  to  be  his  only  disinterested  and 
faithful  companion  when  he  should  have  disposed  of  me  in 
marriage  to  his  heart's  content.  Upon  that,  I  took  fire  imme- 
diately, and  told  him  that  with  his  good  leave  I  would  dispose 
of  myself  in  marriage,  and  would  rather  not  be  knocked  down 
by  him  or  any  other  auctioneer  to  any  bidder  whomsoever.'" 

Mr.  Pinch  opened  his  eyes  wider  and  looked  at  the  fire 
harder  than  he  had  done  vet. 

"You  may  be  sure,"  said  Martin,  "that  this  nettled  him, 
and  that  he  began  to  be  the  very  reverse  of  complimentar)^  to 
myself.  Interview  succeeded  interview  ;  words  engendered 
words,  as  they  always  do  ;  and  the  upshot  of  it  was,  that  I 
was  to  renounce  her,  or  be  renounced  by  him.  Now  you 
must  bear  in  mind.  Pinch,  that  I  am  not  only  desperately 
fond  of  her  (for  though  she  is  poor,  her  beauty  and  intellect 
would  reflect  great  credit  on  anybody,  I  don't  care  of  what 
pretensions,  who  might  become  her  husband),  but  that  a 
chief  ingredient  in  my  composition  is  a  most  determined — " 

"Obstinacy,"  suggested  Tom  in  perfect  good  faith.  But 
the  suggestion  was  not  so  well  received  as  he  had  expected : 
for  the  young  man  immediately  rejoined,  with  some  irritation, 

"  What  a  fellow  you  are  Pinch  !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Tom,  "  I  thought  you  wanted 
a  word." 

"  I  didn't  want  that  word,"  he  rejoined.  "  I  told  you 
obstinacy  was  no  part  of  my  character,  did  I  not .''  I  was 
going  to  say,  if  you  had  given  me  leave,  that  a  chief  ingredient 
in  my  composition  is  a  most  determined  firmness." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Tom,  screwing  up  his  mouth,  and  nodding. 
"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  see  !  " 

"And  being  firm,"  pursued  Martin,  "of  course  I  was  not 
going  to  yield  to  him,  or  give  way  by  so  much  as  the  thou- 
sandth part  of  an  inch." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom. 

"  On  the  contrary  ;  the  more  he  urged,  the  more  I  was 
determined  to  oppose  him." 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  103 

"To  be  sure  !  "  said  Tom. 

"  Very  well,"  rejoined  Martin,  throwing;  himself  back  in 
his  chair,  with  a  careless  wave  of  both  hands,  as  if  the  subject 
were  quite  settled,  and  nothing;  more  could  be  said  about  it : 
"There  is  an  end  of  the  matter,  and  here  am  1  !'' 

Mr.  Pinch  sat  staring  at  the  fire  for  some  minutes  with  a 
puzzled  look,  such  as  he  might  have  assumed  if  some  un- 
commonly difficult  conundrum  had  been  proposed,  which  he 
found  it  impossible  to  guess.     At  length  he  said : 

"  Pecksniff,  of  course,  you  had  known  before  ?  " 

"  Only  by  name.  No,  I  had  never  seen  him,  for  my 
grandfather  kept  not  only  himself  but  me,  aloof  from  all  his 
relations.  But  our  separation  took  place  in  a  town  in  the 
adjoining  county.  From  that  place  I  came  to  Salisbur}-,  and 
there  I  saw  Peckyiifif's  advertisement,  which  I  answered,  hav- 
ing always  had  some  natural  taste,  I  believe,  in  the  matters 
to  which  it  referred,  and  thinking  it  might  suit  me.  As  soon 
as  I  found  it  to  be  his,  I  was  doubly  bent  on  coming  to  him 
if  possible,  on  account  of  his  being — " 

"  Such  an  excellent  man,"  interposed  Tom,  rubbing  his 
hands  :  "  so  he  is.     You  were  quite  right." 

"  Why  not  so  much  on  that  account,  if  the  truth  must  be 
spoken,"  returned  Martin,  "as  because  my  grandfather  has 
an  inveterate  dislike  to  him,  and  after  the  old  man's  arbitrary 
treatment  of  me,  I  had  a  natural  desire  to  run  as  directly 
counter  to  all  his  opinions  as  I  could.  Well  !  As  I  said 
before,  here  I  am.  My  engagement  with  the  young  lady  I 
have  been  telling  you  about,  is  likely  to  be  a  tolerably  long 
one ;  for  neither  her  prospects,  nor  mine,  are  very  bright ; 
and  of  course  I  shall  not  think  of  marrying  until  I  am  well 
able  to  do  so.  It  would  never  do,  you  know,  for  me  to  be 
plunging  myself  into  poverty  and  shabbiness  and  love  in  one 
room  up  three  pair  of  stairs,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  her,"  remarked  Tom  Pinch,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Exactly  so,"  rejoined  Martin,  rising  to  warm  his  back, 
and  leaning  against  the  chimney-piece.  "  To  say  nothing  of 
her.  At  the  same  time,  of  course  it's  not  very  hard  upon  her 
to  be  obliged  to  yield  to  the  necessity  of  the  case  :  first,  be- 
cause she  loves  me  very  much  ;  and  secondly,  because  I  have 
sacrificed  a  great  deal  on  her  account,  and  might  have  done 
much  better,  you  know." 

It  was  a  very  long  time  before  Tom  said  "  Certainly;  "  so 


1 04  MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

long,  that  he  might  have  taken  a  nap  in  the  inten^al,  but  he 
did  say  it  at  last. 

"  Now,  there  is  one  odd  coincidence  connected  with  this 
love-story,"  said  Martin,  "  which  brings  it  to  an  end.  You 
remember  what  you  told  me  last  night  as  we  were  coming 
here,  about  your  pretty  visitor  in  the  church  ?  " 

"Surely  I  do,"  said  Tom,  rising  from  his  stool,  and  seat- 
ing himself  in  the  chair  from  which  the  other  had  lately  risen, 
that  he  might  see  his  face.     "  Undoubtedly." 

"  That  was  she." 

"  I  knew  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Tom,  looking 
fixedly  at  him,  and  speaking  very  softly.  "  You  don't  tell  me 
so?" 

"  That  was  she,"  repeated  the  young  man.  "  After  what 
I  have  heard  from  Pecksniff,  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  came 
and  went  with  my  grandfather.  Don't  you  drink  too  much 
of  that  sour  wine,  or  you'll  have  a  fit  of  some  sort.  Pinch,  I 
see." 

"It  is  not  very  wholesome,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Tom,  setting 
down  the  empty  glass  he  had  for  some  time  held.  "  So  that 
was  she,  was  it  !  " 

Martin  nodded  assent  :  and  adding,  with  a  restless  im- 
patience, that  if  he  had  been  a  few  days  earlier  he  would  have 
seen  her  ;  and  that  now  she  might  be,  for  anything  he  knew, 
hundreds  of  miles  away  ;  threw  himself  after  a  few  turns 
across  the  room,  into  a  chair,  and  chafed  like  a  spoilt  child. 

Tom  Pinch's  heart  was  very  tender,  and  he  could  not 
bear  to  see  the  most  indifferent  person  in  distress ;  still  less 
one  who  had  awakened  an  interest  in  him,  and  who  regarded 
him  (either  in  fact,  or  as  he  supposed)  with  kindness,  and  in 
a  spirit  of  lenient  construction.  Whatever  his  own  thoughts 
had  been  a  few  moments  before — and  to  judge  from  his  face 
they  must  have  been  pretty  serious — he  dismissed  them  in- 
stantly, and  gave  his  young  friend  the  best  counsel  and  com- 
fort that  occurred  to  him. 

"  All  will  be  well  in  time,"  said  Tom,  "  I  have  no  doubt ; 
and  some  trial  and  adversity  just  now  will  only  serve  to  make 
you  more  attached  to  each  other  in  better  days.  I  have 
always  read  that  the  truth  is  so,  and  I  have  a  feeling  within 
me,  which  tells  me  how  natural  and  right  it  is  that  it  should 
be.  What  never  ran  smooth  yet,"  said  Tom,  with  a  smile, 
which  despite  the  homeliness  of  his  face,  was  pleasanter  to 
see   than    many   a  proud   beauty's  brightest  glance  :   "  what 


3/ A  A"  rnV  CHUZZLE  WIT.  i  o  5 

never  ran  smooth  yet,  can  hardly  be  expected  to  change  its 
character  for  us  ;  so  we  must  take  it  as  we  find  it,  and  fashion 
it  into  the  very  best  shape  we  can,  by  patience  and  good- 
humor.  I  have  no  power  at  all  ;  I  needn't  tell  you  that  ;  but 
I  have  an  excellent  will ;  and  if  I  could  ever  be  of  use  to 
you,  in  any  way  whatever,  how  veiy  glad  I  should  be !  " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Martin,  shaking  his  hand.  "You're 
a  good  fellow,  upon  my  word,  and  speak  very  kindly.  Of 
course  you  know,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  as  he 
drew  his  chair  towards  the  fire  again,  "  I  should  not  hesitate 
to  avail  myself  of  your  ser\-ices  if  you  could  help  me  at  all  ; 
but  mercy  on  us !  "  Here  he  rumpled  his  hair  impatiently 
with  his  hand,  and  looked  at  Tom  as  if  he  took  it  rather  ill 
that  he  was  not  somebody  else :  "  you  might  as  well  be  a 
toasting-fork  or  .a  frying-pan,  Pinch,  for  any  help  you  can 
render  me." 

"  Except  in  the  inclination,"  said  Tom,  gently. 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure.  I  meant  that,  of  course.  If  inclination 
went  for  anything,  I  shouldn't  want  help.  I  tell  you  what 
you  may  do,  though,  if  you  will,  and  at  the  present  moment 
too." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  demanded  Tom. 

"  Read  to  me." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  cried  Tom,  catching  up  the  candle, 
with  enthusiasm.  "  Excuse  xx\\  leaving  )-on  in  the  dark  a  mo- 
ment, and  I'll  fetch  a  book  directly.  What  will  you  like? 
Shakspeare  ? " 

"  Ay  !  "  replied  his  friend,  yawning  and  stretching  himself. 
"  He'll  do.  I  am  tired  with  the  bustle  of  to-day,  and  the 
novelty  of  ever^'thing  about  me  ;  and  in  such  a  case,  there's 
no  greater  luxury  in  the  world,  I  think,  than  being  read  to 
sleep.     Yon  won't  mind  my  going  to  sleep,  if  I  can  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

Then  begin  as  soon  as  you  like.  You  needn't  leave  off 
when  you  see  me  getting  drowsy  (unless  you  feel  tired),  for 
it's  pleasant  to  wake  gradually  to  the  sounds  again.  Did  you 
ever  try  that .-"  " 

"No,  I  never  tried  that,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well  I  You  can,  you  know,  one  of  these  days  when  we're 
both  in  the  right  humor.  Don't  mind  leaving  me  in  the  dark. 
Look  sharp  !  " 

Mr.  Pinch  lost  no  time  in  moving  away  ;  and  in  a  minute 
or  two  returned  with  one  of   the   precious   volumes   from  the 


I  o6  MAR  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 

shelf  beside  his  bed.  Martin  had  in  the  meantime  made  him- 
self as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would  permit,  by  con- 
structing before  the  fire  a  temporary  sofa  of  three  chairs 
with  Mercy's  stool  for  a  pillow,  and  lying  down  at  full-length 
upon  it. 

"  Don't  be  too  loud,  please,"  he  said  to  Pinch. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom. 

'  You're  sure  you're  not  cold  ? ' 

"  Not  at  all  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  I  am  quite  ready,  then." 

Mr.  Pinch  accordingly,  after  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his 
book  with  as  much  care  as  if  they  were  living  and  highly  cher- 
ished creatures,  made  his  own  selection,  and  began  to  read. 
Before  he  had  completed  fifty  lines,  his  friend  was  snoring. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Tom,  softly,  as  he  stretched  out  his 
head  to  peep  at  him  over  the  backs  of  the  chairs.  "  He  is 
very  young  to  have  so  much  trouble.  How  trustful  and  gen- 
erous in  him  to  bestow  all  this  confidence  in  me.  And  that 
was  she,  was  it .''  " 

But  suddenly  remembering  their  compact,  he  took  up  the 
poem  at  the  place  where  he  had  left  off,  and  went  on  read- 
ing ;  always  forgetting  to  snuff  the  candle,  until  its  wick 
looked  like  a  mushroom.  He  gradually  became  so  much  in- 
terested, that  he  quite  forgot  to  replenish  the  fire  ;  and  was 
only  reminded  of  his  neglect  by  Martin  Chuzzlewit  starting 
up  after  the  lapse  of  an  hour  or  so,  and  crying  with  a  shiver  : 

"Why,  it's  nearly  out,  I  declare  !  No  wonder  I  dreamed 
of  being  frozen.  Do  call  for  some  coals.  What  a  fellow  you 
are  Pinch  ! " 


CHAPTER    VH. 


IN  WHICH    MR.  CHEVY    SLYME    ASSERTS    THE    INDEPENDENCE  OF 
HIS    SPIRIT,  AND    THE    BLUE    DRAGON    LOSES    A    LIMB, 

Martin  began  to  work  at  the  grammar-school  next  morn- 
ing, with  so  much  vigor  and  expedition,  that  Mr.  Pinch  had 
new  reason  to  do  homage  to  the  natural  endowments  of  that 
young  gentleman,  and  to  acknowledge  his  infinite  superiority 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


[07 


to  himself.  The  new  pupil  received  Tom's  compliments  very 
graciously  ;  and  having  by  this  time  conceived  a  real  regard 
for  him,  in  his  own  peculiar  way,  predicted  that  they  would 
always  be  the  very  best  of  friends,  and  that  neither  of  them, 
he  was  certain  (but  particularly  Tom),  would  ever  have  reason 
to  regret  the  day  on  which  they  became  acquainted.  Mr. 
Pinch  was  delighted  to  hear  him  say  this,  and  felt  so  much 
flattered  by  his  kind  assurances  of  friendship  and  protection, 
that  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  express  the  pleasure  they  afforded 
him.  And  indeed  it  may  be  obser\'ed  of  this  friendship,  such 
as  it  was,  that  it  had  within  it  more  likely  materials  of  endur- 
ance than  many  a  sworn  brotherhood  that  has  been  rich  in 
promise  ;  for  so  long  as  the  one  party  found  a  pleasure  in  pat- 
ronizing, and  the  other  in  being  patronized  (which  was  in  the 
very  essence  of  their  respective  characters),  it  was  of  all  pos- 
sible events  among  the  least  probable,  that  the  twin  demons. 
Envy  and  Pride,  would  ever  arise  between  them.  So  in  \ery 
many  cases  of  friendship,  or  what  passes  for  it,  the  old  axiom 
is  reversed,  and  like  clings  to  unlike  more  than  to  like. 

They  were  both  very  busy  on  the  afternoon  succeeding  the 
family's  departure  :  Martin  with  the  grammar-school  :  and 
Tom  in  balancing  certain  receipts  of  rents,  and  deducting  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  commission  from  the  same  ;  in  which  abstruse  em- 
ployment he  was  much  distracted  by  a  habit  his  new  friend 
had  of  whistling  aloud,  while  he  was  drawing.  They  were  not 
a  little  startled  by  the  unexpected  obtrusion  into  that  sanctu- 
aiy  of  genius,  of  a  human  head,  which  although  a  shaggy  and 
somewhat  alarming  head,  in  appearance,  smiled  affably  upon 
them  from  the  doorway,  in  a  manner  that  was  at  once  wag- 
gish, conciliatory,  and  expressive  of  approbation. 

"  I  am  not' industrious  myself,  gents  both,"  said  tlic  head, 
"  but  I  know  how  to  appreciate  that  quality  in  others.  I  wish 
I  may  turn  gray  and  ugly,  if  it  isn't,  in  my  opinion,  next  to 
genius,  one  of  the  very  charmingest  qualities  of  the  human 
mind.  Upon  my  soul,  I  am  grateful  to  my  friend  Pecksniff 
for  helping  me  to  the  contemplation  of  such  a  delicious  pic- 
ture as  you  present.  You  remind  me  of  Whittington,  after- 
wards thrice  Lord  Mavor  of  London.  I  give  you  my  unsul- 
lied word  of  honor,  that  you  very  strongly  remind  me  of  that 
historical  character.  You  are  a  pair  of  VVhittingtons,  gents, 
without  the  cat  ;  which  is  a  most  agreeable  and  blessed  ex- 
ception to  me,  for  I  am  not  attached  to  the  feline  species 
My  name  is  Tigg;  how  do  you  do  .''  " 


lo8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Martin  looked  to  Mr.  Pinch  for  an  explanation  ;  and  Tom, 
who  had  never  in  his  life  set  eyes  on  Mr.  Tigg  before,  looked 
to  that  gentleman  himself. 

Chevy  Slyme  ? "  said  Mr.  Tigg,  interrogatively,  and  kiss- 
ing his  left  hand  in  token  of  friendship.  You  will  understand 
me  when  I  say  that  I  am  the  accredited  agent  of  Chevy 
Slyme  ;  that  I  am  the  ambassador  from  the  court  of  Chiv  .'' 
Ha!  ha!" 

"  Heyday !  "  asked  Martin,  starting  at  the  mention  of  a 
name  he  knew.     "  Pray,  what  does  he  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  If  your  name  is  Pinch,"  Mr.  Tigg  began. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Martin,  checking  himself.  "That  is  Mr. 
Pinch." 

"  If  that  is  Mr.  Pinch,"  cried  Tigg,  kissing  his  hand  again, 
and  beginning  to  follow  his  head  into  the  room,  "  he  will 
permit  me  to  say  that  I  greatly  esteem  and  respect  his  char- 
acter, which  has  been  most  highly  commended  to  me  by  my 
friend  Pecksniff  ;  and  that  I  deeply  appreciate  his  talent  for 
the  organ,  notwithstanding  that  I  do  not,  if  I  may  use  the 
expression,  grind  myself.  If  that  is  Mr.  Pinch,  I  will  venture 
to  express  a  hope  that  I  see  him  well,  and  that  he  is  suffering 
no  inconvenience  from  the  easterly  wind  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom.     "  I  am  very  well." 

"That  is  a  comfort,"  Mr.  Tigg  rejoined.  "Then,"  he 
added,  shielding  his  lips  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  ap- 
plying them  close  to  Mr.  Pinch's  ear,  "  I  have  come  for  the 
letter." 

"  For  the  letter,"  said  Tom,  aloud.     "  What  letter  t  " 

"  The  letter,"  whispered  Tigg,  in  the  same  cautious  man- 
ner as  before,  "  which  my  friend  Pecksniff  addressed  to  Chevy 
Slyme,  Esquire,  and  left  with  you." 

"  He  didn't  leave  any  letter  with  me,"  said  Tom. 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  the  other.  "  It's  all  the  same  thing, 
though  not  so  delicately  done  by  my  friend  Pecksniff  as  I 
could  have  wished.     The  money." 

"  The  money  !  "  cried  Tom,  quite  scared. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.  With  which  he  rapped  Tom 
twice  or  thrice  upon  the  breast  and  nodded  several  times,  as 
though  he  would  say,  that  he  saw  they  understood  each  other; 
that  it  was  unnecessary  to  mention  the  circumstance  before  a 
tnird  person  ;  and  that  he  would  take  it  as  a  particular  favor 
if  Tom  would  slip  the  amount  into  his  hand,  as  quietly  as 
possible. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


roQ 


Mr.  Pinch,  however,  was  so  very  much  astounded  by  this 
(to  Iiim)  inexpUcable  deportment,  that  he  at  once  openly  de- 
clared there  must  be  some  mistake,  and  that  he  had  been 
entrusted  with  no  commission  whatever  ha\'ing  any  reference 
to  Mr.  Tigg  or  to  his  friend  either.  Mr.  Tigg  received  this 
declaration  with  a  grave  request  that  Mr.  Pinch  would  have 
the  goodness  to  make  it  again  ;  and  on  Tom's  repeating  it  in 
a  still  more  emphatic  and  unmistakable  manner,  checked  it 
off,  sentence  for  sentence,  by  nodding  his  head  solemnly  at  the 
end  of  each.  When  it  had  come  to  a  close  for  the  second 
time,  Mr.  Tigg  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  and  addressed  the 
yovmg  men  as  follows  : 

"Then  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  gents  both.  There  is  at  this 
present  moment  in  this  very  place,  a  perfect  constellation  of 
talent  and  genius,  who  is  involved,  through  what  I  cannot  but 
designate  as  the  culpable  negligence  of  my  friend  Pecksniff, 
in  a  situation  as  tremendous,  perhaps,  as  the  social  inter- 
course of  the  nineteenth  century  will  readily  admit  of.  There 
is  actually  at  this  instant,  at  the  Blue  Dragon  in  this  village, 
an  ale-hause  observe  ;  a  common,  paltr}%  low-minded,  clodhop- 
ping,  pipe-smoking  ale-house  ;  an  individual,  of  whom  it  maybe 
said,  in  the  language  of  the  Poet,  that  nobody  but  himself  can  in 
any  way  come  up  to  him  ;  who  is  detained  there  for  his  bill.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  For  his  bill.  I  repeat  it.  For  his  bill.  Now,"  said  Mr. 
Tigg,  "  we  have  heard  of  P'ox's  Book  of  Martyrs,  I  believe, 
and  we  have  heard  of  the  Court  of  Requests,  and  the  Star 
Chamber ;  but  I  fear  the  contradiction  of  no  man  alive  or 
dead,  when  I  assert  that  my  friend  Chevy  Slyme  being  held  in 
pawn  for  a  bill,  beats  any  amount  of  cock-fighting  with  which 
I  am  acquainted." 

Martin  and  Mr.  Pinch  looked,  first  at  each  other,  and 
afterwards  at  Mr.  Tigg,  who  witli  his  arms  folded  on  his 
breast  surveyed  them,  half  in  despondency  and  half  in  bitter- 
ness. 

"  Don't  mistake  me,  gents  both,"  he  said,  stretching  forth 
his  right  hand.  "  If  it  had  been  for  anything  but  a  bill,  I 
could  have  borne  it,  and  could  still  have  looked  upon  mankind 
with  some  feeling  of  respect  ;  but  when  such  a  man  as  my 
friend  Slvme  is  detained  for  a  score — a  thing  in  itself  essen- 
tially  mean  ;  a  low  performance  on  a  slate,  or  possibly  chalked 
upon  the  back  of  a  door — I  do  feel  that  there  is  a  .screw  of 
."^uch  magnitude  loose  somewhere,  that  the  whole  framework 
of  society  is  shaken,  and  the  very  first  principles  of  things  can 


no  MA /? TIN  CHUZZLE IVl T. 

no  longer  be  trusted.  In  short,  gents  both,"  said  Mr.  Tigg 
with  a  passionate  flourish  of  his  hands  and  head,  "  when  a 
man  Hke  Slyme  is  detained  for  such  a  thing  as  a  bill,  I  reject 
the  superstitions  of  ages,  and  believe  nothing.  I  don't  even 
believe  that  I  doii't  believe,  curse  me  if  I  do !  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  I  am  sure,"  said  Tom  after  a  pause, 
"  but  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  nothing  to  me  about  it,  and  I  couldn't 
act  without  his  instructions.  Wouldn't  it  be  better,  sir,  if  you 
were  to  go  to — to  wherever  you  came  from — yourself,  and 
remit  the  money  to  your  friend  ?  " 

"  How  can  that  be  done,  when  I  am  detained  also  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Tigg ;  "  and  when  moreover,  owing  to  the  astounding, 
and  I  must  add,  gviilty  negligence  of  my  friend  Pecksniff,  I 
have  no  money  for  coach-hire  ?  " 

Tom  thought  of  reminding  the  gentleman  (who,  no  doubt, 
in  his  agitation  had  forgotten  it)  that  there  was  a  post-office 
in  the  land  ;  and  that  possibly  if  he  wrote  to  some  friend  or 
agent  for  a  remittance  it  might  not  be  lost  upon  the  road  ;  or 
at  all  events  that  the  chance,  however  desperate,  was  worth 
trusting  to.  But,  as  his  good-nature  presently  suggested  to 
him  certain  reasons  for  abstaining  from  this  hint,  he  paused 
again,  and  then  asked  : 

"  Did  you  say,  sir,  that  you  were  detained  also  .''  " 

"  Come  here,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  rising.  "  You  have  no  ob- 
jection to  my  opening  this  window  for  a  moment? " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Tom. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  lifting  the  sash.  "  You  see 
a  fellow  down  there  it  a  red  neckcloth  and  no  waistcoat  ? " 

"Of  course  I  do,"  cried  Tom.     "  That's  Mark  Tapley." 

"  Mark  Tapley  is  it .''  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  Then  Mark 
Tapley  had  not  only  the  great  politeness  to  follow  me  to  this 
house,  but  is  waiting  now,  to  see  me  home  again.  And  for 
that  attention,  sir,"  added  Mr.  Tigg,  stroking  his  mustache, 
"  I  can  tell  you,  that  Mark  Tapley  had  better  in  his  infancy 
have  been  fed  to  suffocation  by  Mrs.  Tapley,  than  preserved 
to  this  time." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  not  so  dismayed  by  this  terrible  threat,  but 
that  he  had  voice  enough  to  call  to  Mark  to  come  in,  and  up 
stairs  ;  a  summons  which  he  so  speedily  obeyed,  that  almost 
as  soon  as  I'om  and  Mr.  Tigg  had  drawn  in  their  heads  and 
closed  the  window  again,  he,  the  denounced,  appeared  before 
them. 

"  Come  here,  Mark  !  "  said  Mr.  Pinch.     "  Good  gracious 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 1 1 

me  !  what's  the  matter  between  Mrs.  Lupin  and  this  gentle- 
man ?  " 

"  What  gentleman,  sir  ? "  said  Mark.  "  I  don't  see  no 
gentleman  here,  sir,  excepting  you  and  the  new  gentleman," 
to  whom  he  made  a  rough  kind  of  bow :  "  and  there's  nothing 
wrong  between  Mrs.  Lupin  and  either  of  you,  Mr.  ]*inch,  I  am 
sure." 

"  Nonsense,  Mark  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  You  see  Mr. — " 

"  Tigg,"  interposed  that  gentleman.  "  Wait  a  bit.  I  shall 
crush  him  soon.     All  in  good  time  !  " 

"  Oh ///;«./"  rejoined  ALark,  with  an  air  of  careless  defi- 
ance. "Yes,  I  see  him.  I  could  see  him  a  little  better,  if 
he'd  shave  himself,  and  get  his  hair  cut." 

Mr.  Tigg  shook  his  head  with  a  ferocious  look,  and  smote 
himself  once  upon  the  breast. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  Mark.  "  If  you  knock  ever  so  much 
in  that  quarter,  you'll  get  no  answer.  I  know  better.  There's 
nothing  there  but  padding  :  and  a  greasy  sort  it  is." 

"  Nay,  Mark,"  urged  Mr.  Pinch,  interposing  to  prevent 
hostilities,  "  tell  me  what  I  ask  you.  You're  not  out  of  tem- 
per, I  hope  t  " 

"  Out  of  temper,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark,  with  a  grin  ;  "  why  no, 
sir.  There's  a  little  credit — not  much — in  being  jolly,  when 
such  fellows  as  him  is  a  going  about  like  roaring  lions  :'if  there 
is  any  breed  of  lions,  at  least,  as  is  all  roar  and  mane.  What 
is  there  between  him  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  sir?  Why,  there's  a 
score  between  him  and  Mrs.  Lupin.  And  I  think  Airs.  Lupin 
lets  him  and  his  friend  ofif  very  easy  in  not  charging  'em 
double  prices  for  being  a  disgrace  to  the  Dragon.  That's  my 
opinion.  I  wouldn't  have  any  such  Peter  the  Wild  Boy  as 
him  in  my  house,  sir,  not  if  1  was  paid  race-week  prices  for  it. 
He's  enough  to  turn  the  very  beer  in  the  casks  sour,  with  his 
looks  :  he  is  !     So  he  would,  if  it  had  judgment  enough." 

"  You're  not  answering  my  question,  you  know,  Mark," 
observed  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I  don't  know  as  there's  much  to 
answer  further  than  that.  Him  and  his  friend  goes  and  stops 
at  the  Moon  and  Stars  till  they've  run  a  bill  there  ;  and  then 
comes  and  stops  with  us  and  (hies  the  same.  Tlu'  running  of 
bills  is  common  enough,  Mr.  I'inch  ;  it  an't  that  as  wc  olqect 
to  ;  it's  the  ways  of  this  chajx  Nothing's  good  enough  for  him  ; 
all  the  women  is  dying  for  him  he  thinks,  and  is  over-paid  if 
he  winks  at  'em  ;  and   all  the   men   was  made  to   be   ordered 


112  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

about  by  him.  This  not  being  aggravation  enough,  he  says  this 
morning  to  me,  in  his  usual  captivating  way,  '  We're  going  to- 
night, my  man.'  '  Are  you,  sir  .'' '  says  I.  '  Perhaps  you'd  Ul^e  the 
bill  got  ready,  sir  .? '  '  Oh  no,  my  man,'  he  says  ;  '  you  needn't 
mind  that.  I'll  give  Pecksniff  orders  to  see  to  that.'  In  reply 
to  which,  the  Dragon  makes  answer,  '  Thankee,  sir,  you're 
very  kind  to  honor  us  so  far,  but  as  we  don't  know  any  par- 
ticular good  of  you,  and  you  don't  travel  with  luggage,  and 
Mr.  Pecksniff  an't  at  home  (which  perhaps  you  mayn't  happen 
to  be  aware  of,  sir),  we  should  prefer  something  more  satis- 
factory;' and  that's  where  the  matter  stands.  And  I  ask," 
said  Mr.  Tapley,  pointing,  in  conclusion,  to  Mr.  Tigg,  with  his 
hat,  "  any  lady  or  gentleman,  possessing  ordinary  strength  of 
mind,  to  say,  whether  he's  a  disagreeable-looking  chap  or 
not !  " 

"  Let  me  inquire,"  said  Martin,  interposing  between  this 
candid  speech  and  the  delivery  of  some  blighting  anathema  by 
Mr.  Tigg,  "  what  the  amount  of  this  debt  may  be  ?  " 

"  In  point  of  money,  sir,  very  little,"  answered  Mark. 
"  Only  just  turned  of  three  pounds.  But  it  an't  that ;  it's 
the—" 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  told  us  so  before,"  said  Martin.  "  Pinch, 
a  word  with  you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Tom,  retiring  with  him  to  a  corner 
of  the  room. 

"  Why,  simply — I  am  ashamed  to  say — that  this  Mr.  Slyme 
is  a  relation  of  mine,  of  whom  I  never  heard  anything  pleas- 
ant ;  and  that  I  don't  want  him  here  just  now,  and  think  he 
would  be  cheaply  got  rid  of,  perhaps,  for  three  or  four  pounds. 
You  haven't  enough  money  to  pay  this  bill,  I  suppose  .^ " 

Tom  shook  his  head  to  an  extent  that  left  no  doubt  of  his 
entire  sincerity. 

"  That's  unfortunate,  for  I  am  poor  too  ;  and  in  case  you 
had  had  it,  I'd  have  borrowed  it  of  you.  But  if  we  told  this 
landlady  we  would  see  her  paid,  I  suppose  that  would  answer 
the  same  purpose  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes  !  "  said  Tom.     "  She  knows  me,  bless  you  !  " 

"  Then,  let  us  go  down  at  once  and  tell  her  so  ;  for  the 
sooner  we  are  rid  of  their  company  the  better.  As  you  have 
conducted  the  conversation  with  this  gentleman  hitherto,  per- 
haps you'll  tell  him  what  we  purpose  doing;  will  you  t  " 

Mr.  Pinch  complying,  at  once  imparted  the  intelligence  to 
Mr.  Tigg,  who  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  in  return,  assur- 


MAH  TIN  CHUZZLE  WTT  1 1 3 

ing  him  that  his  faith  in  anything  and  everj'thing  was  again  re- 
stored. It  was  not  so  much,  he  said,  for  the  temporary  reUef 
of  this  assistance  that  he  prized  it,  as  for  its  vindication  of 
the  high  principle  that  Nature's  Nobs  felt  with  Nature's  Nobs, 
and  that  true  greatness  of  soul  sympathized  with  true  great- 
ness of  soul,  all  the  world  over.  It  proved  to  him,  he  said, 
that  like  him  they  admired  genius,  even  when  it  was  coupled 
with  the  alloy  occasionally  visible  in  the  metal  of  his  friend 
Slyme  ;  and  on  behalf  of  that  friend,  he  thanked  them  ;  as 
warmly  and  heartily  as  if  the  cause  were  his  own.  Being 
cut  short  in  these  speeches  by  a  general  move  towards  the 
stairs,  he  took  possession  at  the  street-door  of  the  lapel  of  Mr. 
Pinch's  coat,  as  a  security  against  further  interruption  ;  and 
entertained  that  gentleman  with  some  highly  improving  dis- 
course until  they  reached  the  Dragon,  whither  they  were  closely 
followed  by  Mark  and  the  new  pupil. 

The  rosy  hostess  scarcely  needed  Mr.  Pinch's  word  as  a 
preliminary  to  the  release  of  her  two  visitors,  of  whom  she 
was  glad  to  be  rid  on  any  terms  :  indeed,  their  brief  detention 
had  originated  mainly  with  Mr.  Tapley,  who  entertained  a 
constitutional  dislike  to  gentlemen  out-at-elbows  who  flourished 
on  false  pretences  ;  and  had  conceived  a  particular  aversion 
to  Mr.  Tigg  and  his  friend,  as  choice  specimens  of  the 
species.  The  business  in  hand  thus  easily  settled,  Mr.  Pinch 
and  Martin  would  have  withdrawn  immediately,  but  for  the 
urgent  entreaties  of  Mr.  Tigg  that  they  would  allow  him  the 
honor  of  presenting  them  to  his  friend  Slyme,  which  were  so 
very  difficult  of  resistance  that,  yiekhng  partly  to  these  per- 
suasions and  partly  to  their  own  curiosity,  they  suffered  them- 
selves to  be  ushered  into  the  presence  of  that  distinguished 
gentleman. 

He  was  brooding  over  the  remains  of  yesterday's  decanter 
of  brandy,  and  was  engaged  in  the  thoughtful  occupation  of 
making  a  chain  of  rings  on  the  top  of  the  table  with  the  wet 
foot  of  his  drinking-glass.  Wretched  and  forlorn  as  he  looked, 
Mr.  Slyme  had  once  been,  in  his  way,  the  choicest  of  swag- 
gerers :  putting  forth  his  pretensions,  boldly,  as  a  man  of  in- 
finite taste  and  most  undoubted  promise.  The  stock-in-trade 
requisite  to  set  up  an  amateur  in  this  department  of  business 
is  very  slight,  and  easily  got  together  ;  a  trick  of  the  nose  and 
a  curl  of  the  lip  sufficient  to  compound  a  tolerable  sneer,  being 
ample  provision  for  any  exigency.  But,  in  an  evil  hour,  this 
off-shoot  of  the  Chuzzlewit  trunk,  being  lazy,  and  ill  qualified 

8 


1 1 4  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

for  any  regular  pursuit,  and  having  dissipated  such  means  as 
he  ever  possessed,  had  formally  established  himself  as  a  profes- 
sor of  Taste  for  a  livelihood  ;  and  iinding,  too  late,  that  some- 
thing more  than  his  old  amount  of  qualificaiions  was  necessary 
to  sustain  him  in  this  calling,  had  quickly  fallen  to  his  present 
level,  where  he  retained  nothing  of  his  old  self  but  his  boast- 
fulness  and  his  bile,  and  seemed  to  have  no  existence  separate 
or  apart  from  his  friend  Tigg.  And  now  so  abject  and  so 
pitiful  was  he — at  once  so  maudlin,  insolent,  beggarly,  and 
proud — that  even  his  friend  and  parasite,  standing  erect  beside 
him,  swelled  into  a  Man  by  contrast. 

"  Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  clapping  him  on  the  back,  "my 
friend  Pecksniff  not  being  at  home,  I  have  arranged  our  trifling 
piece  of  business  with  Mr.  Pinch  and  friend.  Mr.  Pinch  and 
friend,  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  !     Chiv,  Mr.  Pinch  and  friend  !  " 

"These  are  agreeable  circumstances  in  which  to  be  intro- 
duced to  strangers,"  said  Chevy  Slyme,  turning  his  bloodshot 
eyes  towards  Tom  Pinch.  "  I  am  the  most  miserable  man  in 
the  world,  I  believe  !  " 

Tom  begged  he  wouldn't  mention  it  ;  and  finding  him  in 
this  condition,  retired,  after  an  awkward  pause,  followed  by 
Martin.  But  Mr.  Tigg  so  urgently  conjured  them,  by  coughs 
and  signs,  to  remain  in  the  shadow  of  the  door,  that  they 
stopped  there. 

"  I  swear,"  cried  Mr.  Slyme,  giving  the  table  an  imbecile 
blow  with  his  fist,  and  then  feebly  leaning  his  head  upon  his 
hand,  while  some  drunken  drops  oozed  from  his  eyes,  "  that  I 
am  the  wretchedest  creature  on  record.  Society  is  in  a  con- 
spiracy against  me.  I'm  the  most  literary  man  alive.  I'm 
full  of  scholarship  ;  I'm  full  of  genius  ;  I'm  full  of  information  ; 
I'm  full  of  novel  views  on  every  subject ;  look  at  my  condi- 
tion !  I'm  at  this  moment  obliged  to  two  strangers  for  a  tavern 
bill ! " 

Mr.  Tigg  replenished  his  friend's  glass,  pressed  it  into  his 
hand,  and  nodded  an  intimation  to  the  visitors  that  they  would 
see  him  in  a  better  aspect  immediately. 

"  Obliged  to  two  strangers  for  a  tavern  bill,  eh  !  "  repeated 
Mr.  Slyme,  after  a  sulky  application  to  his  glass.  "  Very 
pretty !  And  crowds  of  impostors,  the  while,  becoming 
famous ;  men  who  are  no  more  on  a  level  with  me  than — 
Tigg,  I  take  you  to  witness  that  I  am  the  most  persecuted 
hound  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

With  a  whine,  not  unlike  the  cry  of  the  animal  he  named, 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 1  ^ 

in  its  lowest  state  of  humiliation,  he  raised  his  glass  to  his 
mouth  again.  He  found  some  encouragement  in  it ;  for  when 
he  set  it  down,  he  laughed  scornfully.  Upon  that  Mr.  Tigg 
gesticulated  to  the  visitors  once  more,  and  with  great  expres- 
sion :  implying  that  now  the  time  was  come  when  they  would 
see  Chiv  in  his  greatness. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Mr.  Slyme.  "Obliged  to  two 
strangers  for  a  tavern  bill  !  Yet  I  think  I've  a  rich  uncle, 
Tigg,  who  could  buy  up  the  uncles  of  fifty  strangers  .''  Have 
I,  or  have  I  not  ?  I  tome  of  a  good  family,  I  believe  ?  Do 
I,  or  do  I  not.'  I'm  not  a  man  of  common  capacity  or  accom- 
plishments, I  think.     Am  I,  or  am  I  not  ?  " 

"  You  are  the  American  aloe  of  the  human  race,  my  dear 
Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  which  only  blooms  once  in  a  hundred 
years !  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Slyme,  again.  "  Obliged  to 
two  strangers  for  a  tavern  bill  !  I  !  Obliged' to  two  archi- 
tect's apprentices.  Fellows  who  measure  earth  with  iron 
chains,  and  build  houses  like  bricklayers.  Give  me  the  names 
of  those  two  apprentices.     How  dare  they  oblige  me  !  " 

Mr.  Tigg  was  quite  lost  in  admiration  of  this  noble  trait 
in  his  friend's  character  ;  as  he  made  known  to  Mr.  Pinch  in 
a  neat  little  ballet  of  action,  spontaneously  invented  for  the 
purpose. 

"  I"ll  let  'em  know,  and  I'll  let  all  men  know,"  cried  Chevy 
Slyme,  "  that  I'm  none  of  the  mean,  grovelling,  tame  charac- 
ters they  meet  with  commonly.  I  have  an  independent  spirit. 
I  have  a  heart  that  swells  in  my  bosom.  I  have  a  soul  that 
rises  superior  to  base  considerations." 

"  Oh  Chiv,  Chiv,"  murmured  Mr.  Tigg,  "you have  a  nobly 
independent  nature,  Chiv  !  " 

"  You  go  aad  do  your  duty,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Slyme,  angrily, 
"  and  borrow  money  for  travelling  expenses  ;  and  whoever  you 
borrow  it  of,  let  'em  know  that  I  possess  a  haughty  spirit,  and 
a  proud  spirit,  and  have  infernally  finely-touched  chords  in 
my  nature,  which  won't  brook  patronage.  Do  you  hear  1 
Tell  'em  I  hate  'em,  and  that  that's  the  way  I  preserve  my 
self-respect ;  and  tell  'em  that  no  man  ever  respected  himself 
more  than  I  do  !  " 

He  might  have  added  that  he  hated  two  sorts  of  men  ;  all 
those  who  did  him  favors,  and  all  those  who  were  better  off 
than  himself  ;  as  in  either  case  their  position  was  an  insult  to 
a  man   of  his   stupendous  merits.     IJut  he  did  not  •  for  with 


1 1 6  MARTIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

the  apt  closing  words  above  recited,  Mr.  Slyme,  of  too 
haughty  a  stomach  to  work,  to  beg,  to  borrow,  or  to  steal  ; 
yet  mean  enough  to  be  worked  or  borrowed,  begged  or  stolen 
for,  by  any  catspaw  that  would  serve  his  turn  ;  too  insolent  to 
lick  the  hand  that  fed  him  in  his  need,  yet  cur  enough  to  bite 
and  tear  it  in  the  dark  ;  with  these  apt  closing  words,  Mr. 
Slyme  fell  forward  with  his  head  upon  the  table,  and  so 
declined  into  a  sodden  sleep. 

"  Was  there  ever,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  joining  the  young  men 
at  the  door,  and  shutting  it  carefully  behind  him,  "  such  an 
independent  spirit  as  is  possessed  by  that  extraordinary  crea- 
ture 1  Was  there  ever  such  a  Roman  as  our  friend  Chiv  ? 
Was  there  ever  a  man  of  such  a  purely  classical  turn  of 
thought,  and  of  such  a  toga-like  simplicity  of  nature  ?  Was 
there  ever  a  man  with  such  a  flow  of  eloquence  .''  Might  he 
not,  gents  both,  I  ask,  have  sat  upon  a  tripod  in  the  ancient 
times,  and  prophesied  to  a  perfectly  unlimited  extent,  if  pre- 
viously supplied  with  gin-and-water  at  the  public  cost  ?  " 

Mr.  Pinch  was  about  to  contest  this  latter  position  with 
his  usual  mildness,  when,  observing  that  his  companion  had 
already  gone  down  stairs,  he  prepared  to  follow  him. 

"  You  are  not  going,  Mr.  Pinch  .-'  "  said  Tigg. 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Tom.  "  Yes.  Don't  come 
down." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  should  like  one  little  word  in  private 
with  you,  Mr.  Pinch  "i "  said  Tigg,  following  him.  "  One 
minute  of  your  company  in  the  skittle-ground  would  very  much 
relieve  my  mind.     Might  I  beseech  that  favor  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Tom,  "  if  you  really  wish  it." 
So  he  accompanied  Mr.  Tigg  to  the  retreat  in  question ;  on 
arriving  at  which  place  that  gentleman  took  from  his  hat  what 
seemed  to  be  the  fossil  remains  of  an  antediluvian  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  wiped  his  eyes  therewith. 

"  You  have  not  beheld  me  this  day,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  in  a 
favorable  light." 

"  Don't  mention  that,"  said  Tom,  "  I  beg." 

"  But  you  have  nof"  cried  Tigg.  "  I  must  persist  in  that 
opinion.  If  you  could  have  seen  me,  Mr.  Pinch,  at  the  head 
of  my  regiment  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  charging  in  the  form 
of  a  hollow  square,  with  the  women  and  children  and  the 
regimental  plate-chest  in  the  centre,  you  would  not  have  known 
me  for  the  same  man.     You  would  have  respected  me,  sir." 

Tom  had  certain   ideas  of  liis  own  upon  the   subject  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


117 


glory  ;  and  consequently  he  was  not  quite  so  much  excited  by 
this  picture  as  Mr.  Tigg  could  have  desired. 

"  But  no  matter  ?  "  said  that  gentleman.  "  The  school-boy 
writing  home  to  his  parents  and  describing  the  milk-and-water, 
said  'This  is  indeed  weakness.'  I  repeat  that  assertion  in 
reference  to  myself  at  the  present  moment :  and  I  ask  your 
pardon.     Sir,  you  have  seen  my  friend  Slyme  ?  " 

"No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Sir,  you  have  been  impressed  by  my  friend  Slyme  ?  " 

"  Not  very  pleasantly,  I  must  say,"  answered  Tom,  after  a 
little  hesitation. 

"  I  am  grieved  but  not  surprised,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  detain- 
ing him  with  both  hands,  "  to  hear  that  you  have  come  to  that 
conclusion,  for  it  is  my  own.  But,  Mr.  Pinch,  though  I  am 
a  rough  and  thoughtless  man,  I  can  honor  Mind.  I  honor 
Mind  in  following  my  friend.  To  you  of  all  men,  Mr.  Pinch, 
I  have  a  right  to  make  appeal  on  Mind's  behalf,  when  it  has 
not  the  art  to  push  its  fortune  in  the  world.  And  so,  sir — 
not  for  myself,  who  have  no  claim  upon  you,  but  for  my 
crushed,  my  sensitive  and  independent  friend,  who  has — I  ask 
the  loan  of  three  half-crowns.  I  ask  you  for  the  loan  of  three 
half-crowns,  distinctly,  and  without  a  blush.  I  ask  it,  almost 
as  a  right.  And  when  I  add  that  the)'  will  be  returned  by 
post,  this  week,  I  feel  that  you  will  blame  me  for  that  sordid 
stipulation." 

Mr.  Pinch  took  from  his  pocket  an  old-fashioned  red- 
leather  purse  with  a  steel  clasp,  whicli  had  probably  once 
belonged  to  his  deceased  grandmother.  It  held  one  half- 
sovereign  and  no  more.  All  Tom's  worldly  wealth  until  next 
quarter-day. 

"  Stay  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  who  had  watched  this  proceeding 
keenly.  "  I  was  just  about  to  say,  that  for  the  convenience 
of  posting  you  had  better  make  it  gold.  Thank  you.  A 
general  direction,  I  suppose,  to  Mr.  Pinch,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's, 
will  find  you  ?  " 

"  That'll  find  me,"  said  Tom.  "  You  had  better  put 
Esquire  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  name,  if  you  please.  Direct  to  me, 
you  know,  at  Seth  Pecksniff's,  Esquire." 

"  At  Seth  Pecksniff's,  Esquire,"  repeated  Mr.  Tigg,  taking 
an  exact  note  of  it  with  a  stump  of  pencil.  "  We  said  this 
week,  I  believe  1  " 

"  Yes  :  or  Monday  will  do,"  obsen^ed  Tom. 

"No,  no,  I  beg  your  pardon.     Monday  will  not  do  "  said 


1 1 8  MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

Mr.  Tigg.  "  If  we  stipulated  for  this  week,  Saturday  is  the 
latest  day.     Did  we  stipulate  for  this  week  ?  " 

"  Since  you  are  so  particular  about  it,"  said  Tom,  "  I  think 
we  did." 

Mr.  Tigg  added  this  condition  to  his  memorandum  ;  read 
the  entry  over  to  himself  with  a  severe  frown  ;  and  that  the 
transaction  might  be  more  correct  and  business-like,  appended 
his  initials  to  the  whole.  That  done,  he  assured  Mr.  Pinch 
that  everything  was  now  perfectly  regular  ;  and,  after  squeezing 
his  hand  with  great  fervor,  departed. 

Tom  entertained  enough  suspicion  that  Martin  might  pos- 
sibly turn  this  interview  into  a  jest,  to  render  him  desirous  to 
avoid  the  company  of  that  young  gentleman  for  the  present. 
With  this  view  he  took  a  few  turns  up  and  down  the  skittle- 
ground,  and  did  not  re-enter  the  house  until  Mr.  Tigg  and  his 
friend  had  quitted  it,  and  the  new  pupil  and  Mark  were  watch- 
ing their  departure  from  one  of  the  windows. 

"I  was  just  a  saying,  sir,  that  if  one  could  live  by  it,"  ob- 
served Mark,  pointing  after  their  late  guests,  "  that  would  be 
the  sort  of  service  for  me.  Waiting  on  such  individuals  as 
them,  would  be  better  than  grave-digging,  sir." 

"  And  staying  here  would  be  better  than  either,  Mark," 
replied  Tom.  "  So  take  my  advice,  and  continue  to  swim 
easily  in  smooth  water." 

"  It's  too  late  to  take  it  now,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "I  have 
broke  it  to  her,  sir.     I  am  off  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Off !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  "  where  to  ?  " 

"  I  shall  go  up  to  London,  sir." 

"  What  to  be  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Well !  I  don't  know  yet,  sir.  Nothing  turned  up  that 
day  I  opened  my  mind  to  you,  as  was  at  all  likely  to  suit  me. 
All  them  trades  I  thought  of  was  a  deal  too  jolly ;  there  was 
no  credit  at  all  to  be  got  in  any  of  'em.  I  must  look  for  a 
private  service,  I  suppose,  sir.  I  might  be  brought  out  strong 
perhaps,  in  a  serious  family,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  come  out  rather  too  strong  for  a 
serious  family's  taste,  Mark." 

"  That's  possible,  sir.  If  I  could  get  into  a  wicked  family, 
I  might  do  myself  justice  ;  but  the  difficulty  is  to  make  sure 
of  one's  ground,  because  a  young  man  can't  very  well  adver- 
tise that  he  wants  a  place,  and  wages  an't  so  much  an  object 
as  a  wicked  sitivation  ;  can  he,  sir  .<*  " 

"Why,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "I  don't  think  he  can." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


119 


"  An  envious  family,"  pursued  Mark,  with  a  thoughtful 
face  ;  "  or  a  quarrelsome  family,  or  a  malicious  family,  or 
even  a  good  out-and-out  mean  family,  would  open  a  field  of 
action  as  I  might  do  something  in.  The  man  as  would  have 
suited  me  of  all  other  men  was  that  old  gentleman  as  was  took 
ill  here,  for  he  really  was  a  trying  customer.  Howsever,  I 
must  wait  and  see  what  turns  up,  sir  ;  and  hope  for  the  worst." 

"  You  are  determined  to  go  theft  ? "  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  My  box  is  gone  already,  sir,  by  the  wagon,  and  I'm  going 
to  walk  on  to-morrow  morning,  and  get  a  lift  by  the  day  coach 
when  it  overtakes  me.  So  I  wish  you  good  by'e,  Mr.  Pinch 
— and  you  too,  sir, — and  all  good  luck  and  happiness  !  " 

They  both  returned  his  greeting  laughingly,  and  walked 
home  arm-in-arm  :  Mr.  Pinch  imparting  to  his  new  friend, 
as  they  went,  suqIi  further  particulars  of  Mark  Tapley's  whim- 
sical restlessness  as  the  reader  is  already  acquainted  with. 

In  the  meantime  Mark,  having  a  shrewd  notion  that  his 
mistress  was  in  very  low  spirits,  and  that  he  could  not  exactly 
answer  for  the  consequences  of  any  lengthened  tetc-a-tcte  in 
the  bar,  kept  himself  obstinately  out  of  her  way  all  the  after- 
noon and  evening.  In  this  piece  of  generalship  he  was  very 
much  assisted  by  the  great  influx  of  company  into  the  tap- 
room ;  for  the  news  of  his  intention  having  gone  abroad,  there 
was  a  perfect  throng  there  all  the  evening,  and  much  drinking 
of  healths  and  clinking  of  mugs.  At  length  the  house  was 
closed  for  the  night ;  and  there  being  now  no  help  for  it,  Mark 
put  the  best  face  he  could  upon  the  matter,  and  walked  dog- 
gedly to  the  bar-door. 

"  If  I  look  at  her,"  said  Mark  to  himself,  "  I'm  done.  I 
feel  that  I'm  a  going  fast." 

"  You  have  come  at  last,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin. 

Ay,  Mark  said  :     There  he  was. 

"  And  you  are  determined  to  leave  us,  Mark  t "  cried  Mrs. 
Lupin. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  I  am,"  said  Mark,  keeping  his  eyes  hard  upon 
the  floor. 

"  I  thought,"  pursued  the  landlady,  with  a  most  engaging 
hesitation,  "  that  you  had  been — fond — of  the  Dragon  ?  " 

"  So  I  am,"  said  Mark. 

"  Then,"  pursued  the  hostess — and  it  really  was  not  an 
unnatural  inquiry — "  why  do  you  desert  it  ?  " 

But  as  he  gave  no  manner  of  answer  to  this  question,  not 
even  on  its  being  repeated,  Mrs.  Lupin  put  his  money  into  his 


I20  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

hand,  and  asked  him — not  unkindly,  quite  the  contrary — what 
he  would  take  ? 

It  is  proverbial  that  there  are  certain  things  which  flesh 
and  blood  cannot  bear.  Such  a  question  as  this,  propounded 
in  such  a  manner,  at  such  a  time,  and  by  such  a  person,  proved 
(at  least,  as  far  as  Mark's  flesh  and  blood  were  concerned)  to 
be  one  of  them.  He  looked  up  in  spite  of  himself  directly ; 
and  having  once  looked  up,  there  was  no  looking  down  again  ; 
for  all  the  tight,  plump,  buxom,  bright-eyed,  dimple-faced 
landladies  that  ever  shone  on  earth,  there  stood  before  him, 
then,  bodily  in  that  bar,  the  ver)'  pink  and  pine-apple. 

"  Why,  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Mark,  throwing  off  all  his 
constraint  in  an  instant,  and  seizing  the  hostess  round  the 
Avaist — at  which  she  was  not  at  all  alarmed,  for  she  knew  what 
a  good  young  man  he  was — "if  I  took  what  L  liked  most,  1 
should  take  you.  If  I  only  thought  what  was  best  for  me,  I 
should  take  you.  If  I  took  what  nineteen  young  fellows  in 
twenty  would  be  glad  to  take,  and  would  take  at  any  price,  I 
should  take  you.  Yes,  I  should,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  shaking 
his  head,  expressively  enough,  and  looking  (in  a  momentary 
state  of  forgetfulness)  rather  hard  at  the  hostess's  ripe  lips. 
"  And  no  man  wouldn't  wonder  if  I  did  ! " 

Mrs.  Lupin  said  he  amazed  her.  She  was  astonished 
how  he  could  say  such  things.  She  had  never  thought  it  of 
him. 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  it  of  myself  till  now !  "  said  Mark, 
raising  his  eyebrows  with  a  look  of  the  merriest  possible  surprise. 
"  I  always  expected  we  should  part,  and  never  have  no  explana- 
tion ;  I  meant  to  do  it  when  I  came  in  here  just  now  ;  but 
there's  something  about  you,  as  makes  a  man  sensible.  Then 
let  us  have  a  word  or  two  together,  letting  it  be  understood 
beforehand,"  he  added  this  in  a  grave  tone,  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  any  mistake,  "  that  I'm  not  a  going  to  make  no 
love,  3'ou  know." 

There  was  for  just  one  second  a  shade,  though  not  by  any 
means  a  dark  one,  on  the  landlady's  open  brow.  But  it  passed 
off  instantly,  in  a  laugh  that  came  from  her  very  heart. 

"  Oh,  very  good  !  "  she  said  ;  "  if  there  is  to  be  no  love- 
making,  you  had  better  take  your  arm  away." 

"  Lord,  why  should  I  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  It's  quite  inno- 
cent." 

"  Of  course  it's  innocent,"  returned  the  hostess,  "  or  I 
shouldn't  allow  it." 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 2 1 

"  Very  well ! "  said  Mark.     "  Then  let  it  be." 

There  was  so  much  reason  in  this,  that  the  landlady  laughed 
again,  suffered  it  to  remain,  and  bade  Jiim  say  what  he  had 
to  say,  and  be  quick  about  it.  But  he  was  an  impudent  fellow, 
she  added. 

"  Ha !  ha !  I  almost  think  1  am  !  "  cried  Mark,  ''  though  I 
never  thought  so  before.     Why,  I  can  say  anything  to-night !  " 

"  Say  what  you're  going  to  say  if  you  please,  and  be 
quick,"  returned  the  landlady,   "  for  I  want  to  get  to  bed." 

"  Why,  then,  my  dear  good  soul,"  said  Mark,  "  and  a 
kinder  woman  than  you  are,  never  drawed  breath — let  me 
see  the  man  as  says  she  did — what  would  be  the  likely  con- 
sequence of  us  two  being — " 

"  Oh  nonsense  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lupin.  "  Don't  talk  about 
that  any  more."     , 

"No,  no,  but  it  ain't  nonsense,"  said  Mark  ;  "  and  I  wish 
you'd  attend.  What  would  be  the  likely  consequence  of  us 
two  being  married  }  If  I  can't  be  content  and  comfortable  in 
this  here  lively  Dragon  now,  is  it  to  be  looked  for  as  I  should 
be  then  ?  By  no  means.  Very  good.  Then  you,  even  with 
your  good  humor,  would  be  always  on  the  fret  and  worrit, 
always  uncomfortable  in  your  own  mind,  always  a  thinking  as 
you  was  getting  too  old  for  my  taste,  always  a  picturing  me  to 
yourself  as  being  chamed  up  to  the  Dragon  door,  and  wanting 
to  break  away.  I  don't  know  that  it  would  be  so,"  said  Mark, 
"  but  I  don't  know  that  it  mightn't  be.  I  am  a  roving  sort  of 
chap,  I  know.  I'm  fond  of  change.  I'm  always  a  thinking 
that  with  my  good  health  and  spirits  it  would  be  more  credit- 
able in  me  to  be  jolly  where  there's  things  a  going  on  to  make 
one  dismal.  It  may  be  a  mistake  of  mine,  you  see,  but  nothing 
short  of  tr}'ing  how  it  acts,  will  set  it  right.  Then  an't  it  best 
that  1  should  go  :  particular  when  your  free  way  has  helped 
me  out  to  say  all  this,  and  we  can  part  as  good  friends  as  we 
have  ever  been  since  first  I  entered  this  here  noble  Dragon, 
which,"  said  Mr.  Tapley  in  conclusion,  "  has  my  good  word 
and  my  good  wish,  to  the  day  of  my  death  !  " 

The  hostess  sat  quite  silent  for  a  little  time,  but  she 
very  soon  put  both  her  hands  in  Mark's  and  shook  them 
heartily. 

"  For  you  are  a  good  man,"  she  said,  looking  into  his 
face  with  a  smile,  which  was  rather  serious  for  her.  "  And  I 
do  believe  have  been  a  better  friend  to  me  to-night  than  ever 
I  have  had  in  all  my  life." 


122  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,  you  know,"  said  Mark,  "  that's  nonsense. 
But  love  my  heart  alive  !  "  he  added,  looking  at  her  in  a  sort 
of  rapture,  "  if  you  are  that  way  disposed,  what  a  lot  of  suita- 
ble husbands  there  is  as  you  may  drive  distracted !  " 

She  laughed  again  at  this  compliment  ;  and,  once  more 
shaking  him  by  both  hands,  and  bidding  him,  if  he  should 
ever  want  a  friend,  to  remember  her,  turned  gayly  from  the 
little  bar  and  up  the  Dragon  staircase. 

"  Humming  a  tune  as  she  goes,"  said  Mark,  listening,  "in 
case  I  should  think  she's  at  all  put  out,  and  should  be  made 
down-hearted.  Come,  here's  some  credit  in  being  jolly,  at 
last !  " 

With  that  piece  of  comfort,  very  ruefully  uttered,  he  went, 
in  anything  but  a  jolly  manner,  to  bed. 

He  rose  early  next  morning,  and  was  a-foot  soon  after 
sunrise.  But  it  was  of  no  use  ;  the  whole  place  was  up  to  see 
Mark  Tapley  off  :  the  boys,  the  dogs,  the  children,  the  old 
men,  the  busy  people  and  the  idlers :  there  they  were,  all 
calling  out  "  Good  by'e,  Mark,"  after  their  own  manner,  and 
all  sorry  he  was  going.  Somehow  he  had  a  kind  of  sense  that 
his  old  mistress  was  peeping  from  her  chamber-window,  but  he 
couldn't  make  up  his  mind  to  look  back. 

"  Good  by'e  one,  good  by'e  all !  "  cried  Mark,  waving  his 
.  hat  on  the  top  of  his  walking-stick,  as  he  strode  at  a  quick 
pace  up  the  little  street.  "  Hearty  chaps  them  wheelwrights 
— hurrah  !  Here's  the  butcher's  dog  a-coming  out  of  the 
garden — down,  old  fellow  !  And  Mr.  Pinch  a-going  to  his 
organ — good  by'e,  sir  !  And  the  terrier-bitch  from  over  the 
way — hie,  then  lass  !  And  children  enough  to  hand  down 
human  natur  to  the  latest  posterity — good  by'e,  boys  and 
girls !  ■  There's  some  credit  in  it  now.  I'm  a-coming  out 
strong  at  last.  These  are  the  circumstances  that  would  try  a 
ordinar)'  mind  ;  but  I'm  uncommon  jolly.  Not  quite  as  jolly 
as  I  could  wish  to  be,  but  very  near.  Good  by'e  !  good 
by'e  ! " 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


123 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ACCOMPANIES  MR.  PECKSNIFF  AND  HIS  CHARMING  DAUGH- 
TERS TO  THE  CITY  OF  LONDON  ;  AND  RELATES  WHAl 
FELL    OUT,    UPON    THEIR    WAY    THITHER. 

When  Mr.  Pecksnifif  and  the  two  young  ladies  got  into  the 
heavy  coach  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  they  found  it  empty,  which 
was  a  great  comfort ;  particularly  as  the  outside  was  quite 
full  and  the  passengers  looked  very  frosty.  For  as  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff justly  observed — when  he  and  his  daughters  had  burrowed 
their  feet  deep  in  the  straw,  wrapped  themselves  to  the  chin, 
and  pulled  up  both  windows — it  is  always  satisfactory  to  feel, 
in  keen  weather,  that  many  other  people  are  not  as  warm  as 
you  are.  And  this,  he  said,  was  quite  natural,  and  a  very 
beautiful  arrangement ;  not  confined  to  coaches,  but  extending 
itself  into  many  social  ramifications.  "  For  "  (he  observed), 
"  if  every  one  were  warm  and  well-fed,  we  should  lose  the 
satisfaction  of  admiring  the  fortitude  with  which  certain  con- 
ditions of  men  bear  cold  and  hunger.  And  if  we  were  no 
better  off  than  anybody  else,  what  would  become  of  our  sense 
of  gratitude ;  which,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  as  he  shook  his  fist  at  a  beggar  who  wanted  to  get  up 
behind,  "  is  one  of  the  holiest  feelings  of  our  common  na- 
ture." 

His  children  heard  with  becoming  reverence  these  moral 
precepts  from  the  lips  of  their  father,  and  signified  their  ac- 
quiescence in  the  same,  by  smiles.  That  he  might  the  better 
feed  and  cherish  that  sacred  flame  of  gratitude  in  his  breast, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  remarked  that  he  would  trouble  his  eldest  daugh- 
ter, even  in  this  early  stage  of  their  journey,  for  the  brandy- 
bottle.  And  from  the  narrow  neck  of  that  stone  vessel,  he 
imbibed  a  copious  refreshment. 

"  What  are  we  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  but  coaches  .''  Some 
of  us  are  slow  coaches  " — 

"  Goodness,  Pa  !  "  cried  Charity. 

'  Some  of  us,  I  say,"  resumed  her  parent  with  increased 
emphasis,  "  are  slow  coaches  ;  some  of  us  are  fast  coaches. 
Our  passions  are  the  horses  ;  and  rampant  animals  too  !  " — 


124 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Really,  Pa  !  "  cried  both  the  daughters  at  once.  "  How 
very  unpleasant." 

"  And  rampant  animals  too !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
with  so  much  determination,  that  he  may  be  said  to  ha\e  ex- 
hibited, at  the  moment,  a  sort  of  moral  rampancy  JTimself  : 
"  and  Virtue  is  the  drag.  We  start  from  The  Mother's  Arms, 
and  we  run  to  The  Dust  Shovel." 

When  he  had  said  this,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  being  exhausted, 
took  some  further  refreshment.  When  he  had  done  that,  he 
corked  the  bottle  tight,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  effect- 
ually corked  the  subject  also ;  and  went  to  sleep  for  three 
stages. 

The  tendency  of  mankind  when  it  falls  asleep  in  coaches, 
is  to  wake  up  cross  ;  to  find  its  legs  in  its  way ;  and  its  corns 
an  aggravation.  Mr.  Pecksniff  not  being  exempt  from  the 
common  lot  of  humanity,  found  himself,  at  the  end  of  his  nap, 
so  decidedly  the  victim  of  these  infirmities,  that  he  had  an 
irresistable  inclination  to  visit  them  upon  his  daughters  ;  which 
he  had  already  begun  to  do  in  the  shape  of  divers  random 
kicks,  and  other  unexpected  motions  of  his  shoes,  when  the 
coach  stopped,  and  after  a  short  delay,  the  door  was  opened. 

"  Now  mind,"  said  a  thin  sharp  voice  in  the  dark.  "  I  and 
my  son  go  inside,  because  the  roof  is  full,  but  you  agree  only 
to  charge  us  outside  prices.  It's  quite  understood  that  we 
won't  pay  more.     Is  it  .-•  " 

"  AH  right,  sir,"  replied  the  guard. 

"  Is  there  anybody  inside  now  ?  "  inquired  the  voice 

'  Three  passengers,"  returned  the  guard. 

"  Then  I  ask  the  three  passengers  to  witness  this  bargain, 
if  they  will  be  so  good,"  said  the  voice.  "  My  boy,  I  think  we 
may  safely  get  in." 

In  pursuance  of  which  opinion,  two  people  took  their  seats 
in  the  vehicle,  which  was  solemnly  licensed  by  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment to  carry  any  six  persons  who  could  be  got  in  at  the  door. 

"  That  was  lucky !  "  whispered  the  old  man,  when  they 
moved  on  again.  "  And  a  great  stroke  of  policy  in  you  to 
observe  it.  He,  he,  he  !  We  couldn't  have  gone  outside.  I 
should  have  died  of  the  rheumatism  !  " 

Whether  it  occurred  to  the  dutiful  son  that  he  had  in  some 
degree  over-reached  himself  by  contributing  to  the  prolongation 
of  his  father's  days  ;  or  whether  the  cold  had  affected  his  tem- 
per ;  is  doubtful.  But  he  gave  his  father  such  a  nudge  in 
reply,  that  that  good  old  gentleman  was  taken  with  a  cough 


MA  R  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 


125 


which  lasted  for  full  five  minutes,  without  intermission,  and 
goaded  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  that  pitch  of  irritation,  that  he  said 
at  last,  and  very  suddenly  : 

"  There  is  no  room  !  There  is  really  no  room  in  this  coach 
for  any  gentleman  with  a  cold  in  his  head  !  " 

"  Mine,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  is 
upon  my  chest,  Pecksniff." 

The  voice  and  manner,  together,  now  that  he  spoke  out  ; 
the  composure  of  the  speaker  ;  the  presence  of  his  son  ;  and 
his  knowledge  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  afforded  a  clue  to  his  identity 
which  it  was  impossible  to  mistake. 

"  Hem  !  I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  returning  to  his 
usual  mildness,  "  that  I  addressed  a  stranger.  I  find  that  I 
address  a  relative.  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  his  son  Mr. 
Jonas — for  they,  my  dear  children,  are  our  travelling  com- 
panions— will  excuse  me  for  an  apparently  harsh  remark.  It 
is  not  my  desire  to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  person  with 
whom  I  am  connected  in  family  bonds.  I  may  be  a  Hypo- 
crite," said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  cuttingly,  "but  I  am  not  a  Brute." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  said  the  old  man.  "What  signifies  that 
word,  Pecksniff  ?  Hypocrite  !  why,  we  are  all  hypocrites.  We 
Avere  all  hypocrites  t'other  day.  I  am  sure  I  felt  that  to  be 
agreed  upon  among  us,  or  I  shouldn't  have  called  you  one. 
We  should  not  have  been  there  at  all,  if  we  had  not  been 
hypocrites.  The  only  diiference  between  you  and  the  rest  was 
— shall  I  tell  you  the  difference  between  you  and  the  rest  now, 
Pecksniff  ? " 

"  If  you  please,  my  good  sir  ;  if  you  please." 

"  Why,  the  annoying  quality  m  you,  is,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  that  you  never  have  a  confederate  or  partner  in  j'c;/^r  juggling  ; 
you  would  deceive  everybody,  even  those  who  practise  the 
same  art  ;  and  have  a  way  with  you,  as  if  you — -he,  he,  he  ! — as  if 
yo'.i  really  believed  yourself.  I'd  lay  a  handsome  wager  now," 
said  the  old  man,  "  if  I  laid  wagers,  w'hich  I  don't  and  never 
did,  that  you  keep  up  appearances  by  a  tacit  understanding, 
even  before  your  own  daughters  here.  Now  I,  when  I  have 
a  business  scheme  in  hand,  tell  Jonas  what  it  is,  and  we  discuss 
it  openly.     You're  not  offended,  Pecksniff?  " 

"  Offended,  my  good  sir !  "  cried  that  gentleman,  as  if  he 
had  received  the  highest  compliments  that  language  could 
con\ey. 

"  Are  you  travelling  to  London,  Mr.  Pecksniff .''  "  asked  the 
son. 


126  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Jonas,  we  are  travelling  to  London.  We  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  all  the  way,  I  trust.-"' 

"Oh  !  ecod,  you  had  better  ask  father  that,"  said  Jonas, 
"  I  am  not  a  going  to  commit  myself." 

Mr.  PecksniiT  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  greatly  entertained 
by  this  retort.  His  mirth  having  subsided,  Mr.  Jonas  gave 
him  to  understand  that  himself  and  parent  were  in  fact  travel- 
ling to  their  home  in  the  metropolis  :  and  that,  since  the 
memorable  day  of  the  great  family  gathering,  they  had  been 
tarrying  in  that  part  of  the  countr};,  watching  the  sale  of  certain 
eligible  investments,  which  they  had  had  in  their  copartnership 
eye  when  they  came  down  ;  for  it  was  their  custom,  Mr.  Jonas 
said,  whenever  such  a  thing  was  practicable,  to  kill  two  birds 
with  one  stone,  and  never  to  throw  away  sprats,  but  as  bait  for 
whales.  When  he  had  communicated,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  these 
pithy  scraps  of  intelligence,  he  said,  "  That  if  it  was  all  the 
same  to  him,  he  would  turn  him  over  to  father,  and  have  a 
chat  with  the  gals  ;"  and  in  furtherance  of  this  polite  scheme, 
he  vacated  his  seat  adjoining  that  gentleman,  and  established 
himself  in  the  opposite  corner,  next  to  the  fair  Miss  Mercy. 

The  education  of  Mr.  Jonas  had  been  conducted  from  his 
cradle  on  the  strictest  principles  of  the  main  chance.  The 
very  first  word  he  learnt  to  spell  v/as  "gain,"  and  the  second 
(when  he  got  into  two  syllables),  "  money."  But  for  two 
results,  which  were  not  clearly  foreseen  perhaps  by  his  watch- 
ful parent  in  the  beginning,  his  training  may  be  said  to  have 
been  unexceptionable.  One  of  these  flaws  was,  that  having 
been  long  taught  by  his  father  to  over-reach  everybody,  he  had 
imperceptibly  acquired  a  love  of  over-reaching  that  venerable 
monitor  himself.  The  other,  that  from  his  early  habits  of 
considering  everything  as  a  question  of  property,  he  had 
gradually  come  to  look,  with  impatience,  on  his  parent  as  a 
certain  amount  of  personal  estate,  which  had  no  right  what- 
ever to  be  going  at  large,  but  ought  to  be  secured  in  that  par- 
ticular description  of  iron  safe  which  is  commonly  called  a 
coffin,  and  banked  in  the  grave. 

"  Well,  cousin  !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas  :  "  Because  we  are  cousins, 
you  know,  a  few  times  removed  :  so  you're  going  to  London  ?  " 

Miss  Mercy  replied  in  the  affirmative,  pinching  her  sister's 
arm  at  the  same  time,  and  giggling  excessively. 

"  Lots  of  beaux  in  London,  cousin  ! "  said  Mr.  Jonas, 
slightly  advancing  his  elbow. 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  "    cried  the  young  lady.     "  They  won't  hurt 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  127 

US,  sir,  I  dare  say."  And  having  given  him  this  answer  viith 
great  demureness,  she  was  so  overcome  by  her  own  liumor, 
that  she  was  fain  to  stifle  her  merriment  in  her  sister's  shawl. 
"  Merry,"  cried  that  more  prudent  damsel,  "  really  I  am 
ashamed  of  you.  How  can  you  go  on  so  ?  You  wild  thing  !  " 
At  which  Miss  Merry  only  laughed  the  more,  of  course. 

"  I  saw  a  wildness  in  her  eye,  t'other  day,"  said  Mr.  Jonas, 
addressing  Charity.  "  But  you're  the  one  to  sit  solemn  !  I 
say  !    You  were  regularly  prim,  cousin  !  " 

"  Oh  !  The  old-fashioned  fright !  "  cried  Merry,  in  a  whisper. 
"  Cherry,  my  dear,  upon  my  word  you  must  sit  next  him.  I 
shall  die  outright  if  he  talks  to  me  any  more ;  I  shall,  posi- 
tively ! "  To  prevent  which  fatal  consequence,  the  buoyant 
creature  skipped  out  of  her  seat  as  she  spoke,  and  squeezed 
her  sister  into  the- place  from  which  she  had  risen. 

"  Don't  mind  crowding  me,"  cried  Mr.  Jonas.  "  I  like  to 
be  crowded  by  gals.     Come  a  little  closer,  cousin." 

"No,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Charity. 

"  There's  that  other  one  a  laughing  again,"  said  Mr.  Jonas; 
"  she's  a  laughing  at  my  father,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  If  he  puts 
on  that  old  flannel  nightcap  of  his,  I  don't  know  what  she'll 
do  !     Is  that  my  father  a  snoring,  Pecksniff  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Jonas." 

"  Tread  upon  his  foot,  will  you  be  so  good  ?  "  said  the 
young  gentleman.     "  The  foot  next  you's  the  gouty  one." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  hesitating  to  perform  this  friendly  office, 
Mr. 'Jonas  did  it  himself  ;  at  the  same  time  crying : 

"  Come,  wake  up,  father,  or  you'll  be  having  the  night- 
mare, and  screeching  out,  /  know. — Do  you  ever  have  the 
nightmare,  cousin  ? "  he  asked  his  neighbor,  with  character- 
istic gallantry,  as  he  dropped  his  voice  again. 

""Sometimes,"  answered  Charity.     "  Not  often." 

"The  other  one,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  after  a  pause.  "  Does 
she  ever  have  the  nightmare  .-'  " 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Charity.  "You  had  better  ask 
her." 

"  She  laughs  so,"  said  Jonas,  "  there's  no  talking  to  her. 
Only  hark  how  she's  a  going  on  now  !  You're  the  sensible 
one,  cousin ! " 

"  Tut,  tut  1  "  cried  Charity. 

"  Oh  !     But  you  are  !     You  know  you  are  !  " 

"  Mercy  is  a  little  giddy,"  said  Miss  Charity.  "  But  she'll 
sober  down  in  time." 


128  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  It'll  be  a  very  long  time,  then,  if  she  does  at  all, '  re- 
joined her  cousin.     "  Take  a  little  more  room." 

"  T  am  afraid  of  crowding  you,"  said  Charity.  But  she 
took  it  notwithstanding  ;  and  after  one  or  two  remarks  on  the 
extreme  heaviness  of  the  coach,  and  the  number  of  places  it 
stopped  at,  they  fell  into  a  silence  which  remained  unbroken 
by  any  member  of  the  party  until  supper-time. 

Although  Mr.  Jonas  conducted  Charity  to  the  hotel  and 
sat  himself  beside  her  at  the  board,  it  was  pretty  clear  that  he 
had  an  eye  to  "  the  other  one  "  also,  for  he  often  glanced 
across  at  Mercy,  and  seemed  to  draw  comparisons  between  the 
personal  appearance  of  the  two,  which  were  not  unfavorable 
to  the  superior  plumpness  of  the  younger  sister.  He  allowed 
himself  no  great  leisure  for  this  kind  of  observation,  however, 
being  busily  engaged  with  the  supper,  which,  as  he  whispered 
in  his  fair  companion's  ear,  was  a  contract  business,  and 
therefore  the  more  she  ate,  the  better  the  bargain  was.  His 
father  and  Mr.  Pecksniff,  probably  acting  on  the  same  wise 
principle,  demolished  everything  that  came  within  their  reach, 
and  by  that  means  acquired  a  greasy  expression  of  counte- 
nance, indicating  contentment,  if  not  repletion,  which  it  was 
veiy  pleasant  to  contemplate. 

When  they  could  eat  no  more,  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  Mr. 
Jonas  subscribed  for  two  sixpenny-worths  of  hot  brandy-and- 
water,  which  the  latter  gentleman  considered  a  more  politic 
order  than  one  shilling's-worth  ;  there  being  a  chance  of  their 
getting  more  spirit  out  of  the  innkeeper  under  this  arrange- 
ment than  if  it  were  all  in  one  glass.  Having  swallowed  his 
share  of  the  enlivening  fluid,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  under  pretence  of 
going  to  see  if  the  coach  were  ready,  went  secretly  to  the  bar, 
and  had  his  own  little  bottle  filled,  in  order  that  he  might  re- 
fresh himself  at  leisure  in  the  dark  coach  without  being  ob- 
served. 

These  arrangements  concluded,  and  the  coach  being  ready, 
they  got  into  their  old  places  and  jogged  on  again.  But  before 
he  composed  himself  for  a  nap,  Mr.  Pecksniff  delivered  a  kind 
of  grace  after  meat,  in  these  words  : 

"  The  process  of  digestion,  as  I  have  been  informed  by 
anatomical  friends,  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  works  of 
nature.  I  do  not  know  how  it  may  be  with  others,  but  it  is  a 
great  satisfaction  to  me  to  know,  when  regaling  on  my  humble 
fare,  that  I  am  putting  in  motion  the  most  beautiful  machinery 
with  which  we  have  any  acquaintance.     I  really  feel  at  such 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


129 


times  as  if  I  was  doing  a  public  service.  When  I  have  wound 
myself  up,  if  I  may  employ  such  a  term,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff 
with  exquisite  tenderness,  "  and  know  that  I  am  Going,  I  feel 
that  in  the  lesson  afforded  by  the  works  within  me,  I  am  a 
Benefactor  to  my  Kind  !  " 

As  nothing  could  be  added  to  this,  nothing  was  said ;  and 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  exulting,  it  may  be  presumed,  in  his  moral 
utility,  went  to  sleep  again. 

The  rest  of  the  night  wore  away  in  the  usual  manner.  Mr, 
Pecksniff  and  Old  Anthony  kept  tumbling  against  each  other 
and  waking  up  much  terrified,  or  crushed  their  heads  in  oppo- 
site corners  of  the  coach  and  strangely  tattooed  the  surface  of 
their  faces — Heaven  knows  how — in  their  sleep.  The  coach 
stopped  and  went  on,  and  went  on  and  stopped,  times  out  of 
number.  Passengers  got  up  and  passengers  got  down,  and 
fresh  horses  canfe  and  went  and  came  again,  with  scarcely  any 
interval  between  each  team  as  it  seemed  to  those  w^ho  were 
dozing,  and  with  a  gap  of  a  whole  night  between  every  one  as 
it  seemed  to  those  who  were  broad  awake.  At  length  they 
began  to  jolt  and  rumble  over  horribly  uneven  stones,  and 
Mr.  Pecksniff  looking  out  of  window  said  it  was  to-morrow 
morning,  and  they  were  there. 

Very  soon  afterwards  the  coach  stopped  at  the  office  in  the 
city  ;  and  the  street  in  which  it  was  situated  was  already  in  a 
bustle,  that  fully  bore  out  Mr.  Pecksniff's  words  about  its 
being  morning,  though  for  any  signs  of  day  yet  appearing  in 
the  sky  it  might  have  been  midnight.  There  was  a  dense  fog 
too  :  as  if  it  were  a  city  in  the  clouds,  which  they  had  been 
travelling  to  all  night  up  a  magic  beanstalk  ;  and  there  was  a 
thick  crust  upon  the  pavement  like  oil-cake  :  which,  one  of  the 
outsides  (mad,  no  doubt)  said  to  another  (his  keeper,  of 
course),  was  Snow. 

Taking  a  confused  leave  of  Anthony  and  his  son,  and 
leaving  the  luggage  of  himself  and  daugliters  at  the  office  to 
be  called  for  afterwards,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  one  of  the  young 
ladies  under  each  arm,  dived  across  the  street,  and  then  across 
other  streets,  and  so  up  the  queerest  courts,  and  down  the 
strangest  allevs  and  under  the  blindest  archwavs,  in  a  kind  of 
frenzy  :  now  skipping  over  a  kennel,  now  running  for  his  life 
from  a  coach  and  horses  ;  now  thinking  he  had  lost  his  way, 
now  thinking  he  had  found  it ;  now  in  a  state  of  the  highest 
confidence,  now  despondent  to  the  last  degree,  but  always  in 
a  great  perspiration  and  flurry  ;  until  at  length  they  stopped 

9 


130  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT. 

in  a  kind  of  paved  yard  near  the  Monument.  That  is  to  say, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  told  them  so  ;for  as  to  anything  they  could  see 
of  the  Monument,  or  anything  else  but  the  buildings  close  at 
hand,  they  might  as  well  have  been  playing  blindman's  buff 
at  Salisbury. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  about  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
knocked  at  the  door  of  a  very  dingy  edifice,  even  among  the 
choice  collection  of  dingy  edifices  at  hand  ;  on  the  front  of 
which  was  a  little  oval  board  like  a  tea-tray,  with  this  inscrip- 
tion:  "  Commercial  Boarding-House.     M. 'i'odgers." 

It  seemed  that  M.  Todgers  was  not  up  yet,  for  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff knocked  twice  and  rang  thrice,  without  making  any  im- 
pression on  anything  but  a  dog  over  the  way.  At  last  a  chain 
and  some  bolts  were  withdrawn  with  a  rusty  noise,  as  if  the 
weather  had  made  the  very  fastenings  hoarse,  and  a  small  boy 
with  a  large  red  head,  and  no  nose  to  speak  of,  and  a  very 
dirty  Wellington  boot  on  his  left  arm,  appeared  ;  who  (being 
surprised)  rubbed  the  nose  just  mentioned  with  the  back  of  a 
shoe-brush,  and  said  nothing. 

"  Still  a-bed,  my  man  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Still  a-bed  !  "  replied  the  boy.  "  I  wish  they  wos  still 
a-bed.  They're  very  noisy  a-bed  ;  all  calling  for  their  boots 
at  once.  1  thought  you  was  the  Paper,  and  wondered  why 
you  didn't  shove  yourself  through  the  grating  as  usual.  What 
do  you  want  ?  " 

Considering  his  years,  which  -were  tender,  the  youth  may 
be  said  to  have  preferred  this  question  sternly,  and  in  some- 
thing of  a  defiant  manner.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff,  without  taking 
umbrage  at  his  bearing,  put  a  card  in  his  hand,  and  bade  him 
take  that  up  stairs,  and  show  them  in  the  meanwhile  into  a 
room  where  there  was  a  fire. 

"  Or  if  there's  one  in  the  eating  parlor,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, "  I  can't  find  it  myself."  So  he  led  his  daughters,  with- 
out waiting  for  any  further  introduction,  into  a  room  on  the 
ground  floor,  where  a  tablecloth  (rather  a  tight  and  scanty  fit 
in  reference  to  the  table  it  covered)  w'as  already  spread  for  break- 
fast :  displaying  a  mighty  dish  of  pink  boiled  beef  ;  an  instance 
of  that  particular  style  of  loaf  which  is  known  to  housekeepers 
as  a  slack-baked,  crummy  quartern  ;  a  liberal  provision  of  cups 
and  saucers  ;  and  the  usual  appendages. 

Inside  the  fender  were  some  half-dozen  pairs  of  shoes  and 
boots,  of  various  sizes,  just  cleaned  and  turned  with  the  soles 
upwards  to  dry ;  and  a  pair  of  short  black  gaiters,  on  one  of 


MAKThX  CIIUZZLEIVIT.  131 

which  was  chalked — in  sport,  it  would  appear,  by  some  gentle- 
man who  had  slipped  down  for  the  purpose,  pending  his  toilet, 
and  gone  up  again — "Jinkins'o  Particular,"  while  the  other 
exhibited  a  sketch  in  jDrotile,  claiming  to  be  the  portrait  of 
Jinkins  himself. 

M.  Todgers's  Commercial  Boarding-House  was  a  house  of 
that  sort  which  is  likely  to  be  dark  at  any  time  ;  but  that  morn- 
ing it  was  especially  dark.  There  was  an  odd  smell  m  the  pas- 
sage, as  if  the  concentrated  essence  of  all  the  dinners  that  had 
been  cooked  in  the  kitchen  since  the  house  was  built,  lingered 
at  the  top  of  the  kitchen  stairs  to  that  hour,  and,  like  the 
Black  Friar  in  Don  Juan,  "wouldn't  be  driven  away."  In 
particular,  there  was  a  sensation  of  cabbage ;  as  if  all  the 
greens  that  had  ever  been  boiled  there,  were  evergreens,  and 
flourished  in  immortal  strength.  I'he  parlor  was  wainscoted, 
and  communicated  to  strangers  a  magnetic  and  instin':ti\e 
consciousness  of  rats  and  mice.  The  staircase  was  very 
gloomy  and  very  broad,  with  balustrades  so  thick  and  heavy 
that  they  would  have  served  for  a  bridge.  In  a  sombre  cor- 
ner of  the  first  landing,  stood  a  gruff  old  giant  of  a  clock, 
with  a  preposterous  coronet  of  three  bras.-,  balls  on  his  head  ; 
whom  few  had  ever  seen — none  ever  looked  in  the  face — and 
who  seemed  to  continue  his  heavy  tick  for  no  other  reason  than 
to  warn  heedless  people  from  running  into  him  accidentally.  It 
had  not  been  papered  orpaiiited.  hadn't  Todgers's,  within  the 
memory  of  man.  It  was  verj^  black,  begrimed,  and  mouldy. 
And,  at  the  top  of  the  staircase,  was  an  old,  disjointed,  rick- 
ety, ill-favored  skylight,  patched  and  mended  in  all  kinds  of 
ways,  which  looked  distrustfully  down  at  everything  that 
passed  below,  and  covered  Todgers's  up  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of 
human  cucumber-frame,  and  only  people  of  a  peculiar  grow'th 
were  reared  there. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  fair  daughters  had  not  stood  warm- 
ing themselves  at  the  fire  ten  minutes,  when  the  sound  of  feet 
was  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  the  presiding  deity  of  the 
establishment  came  hurrying  in. 

M.  Todgers  was  a  lady,  rather  a  bony  and  hard-featured 
lady,  with  a  row  of  curls  in  front  of  her  head,  shaped  like  lit- 
tle barrels  of  beer  ;  and  on  the  top  of  it  something  made  of 
net — \-ou  couldn't  call  it  a  cap  exactly — winch  liuiked  like  a 
black  coljweb.  She  had  a  little  basket  on  her  arm,  and  in  it  a 
bunch  of  keys  that  jingled  as  she  came.  In  her  other  hand 
she  bore  a  flaming  tallow  candle,  which,  after  surveying  Mr. 


132  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Pecksniff  for  one  instant  by  its  light,  she  put  down  upon  the 
table,  to  the  end  that  she  might  receive  him  with  the  greater 
cordiality. 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  Welcome  to 
London  !  Who  would  have  thought  of  such  a  visit  as  this, 
after  so — dear,  dear  ! — so  many  years  !  How  do  you  do,  Mr. 
Pecksniff }  " 

"  As  well  as  ever  ;  and  as  glad  to  see  you  as  ever  ;  "  Mr. 
Pecksniff  made  response,  "  Why,  you  are  younger  than  you 
used  to  be !  " 

"  Vou  are,  I  am  sure  ! "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  You're  not 
a  bit  changed." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  towards  the  youiig  ladies.  "  Does  this  make 
me  no  older?  " 

"Not  your  daughters  !"  exclaimed  the  lady,  raising  her 
hands  and  clasping  them.  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Pecksniff !  Your 
second,  and  her  bridesmaid  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  smiled  complacently  ;  shook  his  head  ;  and 
said,  "My  daughters,  Mrs.  Todgers.     Merely  my  daughters." 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  the  good  lady,  "  I  must  believe  you,  for  now  I 
look  at  'em  I  think  I  should  have  known  'em  anywhere.  My 
dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,  how  happy  your  Pa  has  made  me  !  " 

She  hugged  them  both  ;  and  being  by  this  time  overpow- 
ered by  her  feelings  or  the  inclemency  of  the  morning,  jerked 
a  little  pocket  handkerchief  out  of  the  little  basket,  and  applied 
the  same  to  her  face. 

"  Now,  my  good  madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  know 
the  rules  of  your  establishment,  and  that  you  only  receive 
gentlemen  boarders.  But  it  occurred  to  me,  when  I  left  home, 
that  perhaps  you  would  give  my  daughters  house-room,  and 
make  an  exception  in  their  favor." 

"  Perhaps  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers  ecstatically.  "  Perhaps  ?  " 

"  I  may  say  then,  that  I  was  sure  you  would,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  "  I  know  that  you  have  a  little  room  of  your  own, 
and  that  they  can  be  comfortable  there  without  appearing  at 
the  general  table." 

"  Dear  girls  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  I  must  take  that  lib- 
erty once  more." 

Mrs.  Todgers  meant  by  this  that  she  must  embrace  them 
once  more,  which  she  accordingly  did,  with  great  ardor. 
But  the  truth  was.  that  the  house  being  full  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  bed,  which  would   now  be  occupied  by  Mr,  Peck- 


MA  R  TIN  cm  'ZZL  ElV/T. 


nz 


sniff,  she  wanted  time  for  consideration  ;  and  so  much  time 
too  (for  it  was  a  knotty  point  how  to  dispose  of  them),  that 
even  when  this  second  embrace  was  over,  she  stood  for  some 
moments  gazing  at  tlie  sisters,  with  affection  beaming  in  one 
eye,  and  calculation  shining  out  of  the  other. 

"  I  think  I  know  how  to  arrange  it,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
at  length.  "  A  sofa  bedstead  in  the  little  third  room  which 
opens  from  my  own  parlor — Oh,  you  dear  girls !  " 

Thereupon  she  embraced  them  once  more,  observing  that  she 
could  not  decide  which  was  most  like  their  poor  mother  (which 
was  highly  probable  :  seeing  that  she  had  never  beheld  that 
lady),  but  that  she  rather  thought  the  youngest  was  ;  and  then 
she  said  that  as  the  gentlemen  would  be  down  directly,  and  the 
ladies  were  fatigued  with  travelling,  would  they  step  into  her 
room  at  once  ?     ,- 

It  was  on  the  same  floor  ;  being,  in  fact,  the  back  parlor ;  and 
had,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  said,  the  great  advantage  (in  London)  of 
not  being  overlooked;  as  they  would  see  when  the  fog  cleared 
off.  Nor  was  this  a  vain-glorious  boast,  for  it  commanded 
at  a  perspective  of  two  feet,  a  brown  wall  with  a  black  cistern 
on  the  top.  The  sleeping  apartment  designed  for  the  young 
ladies  was  approached  from  this  chamber  by  a  mightily  con- 
venient little  door,  which  could  only  open  when  fallen  against 
by  a  strong  person.  It  commanded  from  a  similar  point  of 
sight  another  angle  of  the  wall,  and  another  side  of  the  cis- 
tern. "  Not  the  damp  side,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  77ial  is 
Mr.  Jinkins's."' 

In  the  first  of  these  sanctuaries  a  fire  was  speedily  kindled 
by  the  youthful  porter,  who,  whistling  at  his  work  in  the  ab- 
sence of  Mrs.  Todgers  (not  to  mention  his  sketching  figures 
on  his  corduroys  with  burnt  firewoodj,  and  being  afterwards 
taken  by  that  lady  in  the  fact,  was  dismissed  with  a  box  on  his 
ears.  Having  prepared  breakfast  for  the  young  ladies  with  her 
own  hands,  she  withdrew  to  preside  in  the  other  room  ;  where 
the  joke  at  Mr.  Jinkins's  expense,  seemed  to  be  proceedmg 
rather  noisily, 

"  I  won't  ask  you  yet  my  dears,"  said  Mr  Pecksniff,  look- 
ing in  at  the  door,  "  how  you  like  London.     Shall  I  .-■  " 

"  We  haven't  seen  much  of  it.  Pa  !  "  cried  Merry. 

"  Nothing,  I  hope,"  said  ("herry.     (Both  very  miserably.) 

"  Indeed,'"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff",  "  that's  true.  W'c  have 
our  pleasure,  and  our  business  too,  before  us.  All  in  good 
time.     All  in  good  time  !  " 


134  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Whether  Mr  Pecksniff's  business  in  London  was  as  strictly 
professional  as  he  had  given  his  new  pupil  to  understand,  we 
shall  see,  to  adopt  that  worthy  man's  phraseology-,  "  all  in 
good  time." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TOWN    AND    TODGERS'S. 


Surely  there  never  was,  in  any  other  borough,  or  city, 
or  hamlet  in  the  world,  such  a  singular  sort  of  place  as  Tocl- 
gers's.  And  surely  London,  to  judge  from  that  part  of  it  which 
hemmed  Todgers's  round,  and  hustled  it,  and  crushed  it,  and 
stuck  its  brick-and-mortar  elbows  into  it,  and  kept  the  air  from 
it,  and  stood  perpetually  between  it  and  the  light,  was  worthy 
of  Todgers's,  and  qualified  to  be  on  terms  of  close  relationship 
and  alliance  with  hundreds  and  thousands  of  the  odd  family  to 
which  Todgers's  belonged. 

You  couldn't  walk  about  in  Todgers's  neighborhood,  as 
you  could  in  any  other  neighborhood.  You  groped  your  way 
for  an  hour  through  lanes  and  bye-ways,  and  court-yards,  and 
passages  ;  and  you  never  once  emerged  upon  anything  that 
might  be  reasonably  called  a  street.  A  kind  of  resigned  dis- 
traction came  o\er  the  stranger  as  he  trod  those  devious 
mazes,  and,  gi\ing  himself  up  for  lost,  went  in  and  out  and 
round  about  and  quietly  turned  back  again  when  he  came  to 
a  dead  wall  or  was  stopped  by  an  iron  railing,  and  felt  that 
the  means  of  escape  might  possibly  present  themselves  in  their 
own  good  time,  but  that  to  anticipate  them  was  hopeless.  In- 
stances were  known  of  people  who,  being  asked  to  dine  at 
Todgers's  had  travelled  round  and  round  for  a  weary  time, 
with  its  very  chimney-pots  in  view  ;  and  finding  it,  at  Wst, 
impossible  of  attainment,  had  gone  home  again  with  a  gentle 
melancholy  on  their  spirits,  tranquil  and  uncomplaining. 
Nobody  had  ever  found  Todgers's  on  a  verbal  direction,  though 
given  within  a  minute's  walk  of  it.  Cautious  emigrants  from 
Scotland  or  the  North  of  England  had  been  known  to  reach 
it  safely,  by  impressing  a  charity-boy,  town-bred,  and  bringing 
him  along  with  them  ;  or  by  clinging  tenaciously  to  the  post- 
man ;  but  these  were  rare  exceptions,  and  only  went  to  prove 


MAR  TIX  CHUZZL E  WIT. 


135 


the  rule  that  Toclgers's  was  in  a  labyrinth,  whereof  the  mys- 
tery was  known  but  to  a  chosen  few. 

Several  fruit-brokers  had  their  marts  near  Todgers's  ;  and 
one  of  the  first  impressions  wrought  upon  the  stranger's  senses 
was  of  oranges— of  damaged  oranges,  with  blue  and  green 
bruises  on  them,  festering  in  boxes  or  moulding  away  in 
cellars.  All  day  long,  a  stream  of  porters  from  wharves  beside 
the  river,  each  bearing  on  his  back  a  bursting  chest  of  oranges, 
poured  slowly  through  the  narrow  passages  ;  while  underneath 
the  archway  by  the  public-house,  the  knots  of  those  who 
rested  and  regaled  within,  were  piled  from  morning  until  night. 
Strange  solitary  pumps  were  found  near  Todgers's  hiding  them- 
selves for  the  most  part  in  blind  alleys,  and  keeping  company 
with  fire-ladders.  There  were  churches  also  by  dozens,  with 
many  a  ghostly  little  churchyard,  all  overgrown  with  such 
straggling  vegetafion  as  springs  up  spontaneously  from  damp, 
and  graves,  and  rubbish.  In  some  of  these  dingy  resting- 
places,  which  bore  much  the  same  analogy  to  green  church- 
yards, as  the  pots  of  earth  for  mignonette  and  wall-flower  in 
the  windows  overlooking  them,  did  to  rustic  gardens,  there 
were  trees ;  tall  trees  ;  still  putting  forth  their  leaves  in  each 
succeeding  year,  with  such  a  languishing  remembrance  of  their 
kind  (so  one  might  fancy,  looking  on  their  sickly  boughs) 
as  birds  in  cages  have  of  theirs.  Here,  paralyzed  old  watch- 
men guarded  the  bodies  of  the  dead  at  night  year  after  year, 
until  at  last  they  joined  that  solemn  brotherhood  ;  and,  saving 
that  they  slept  below  the  ground  a  sounder  sleep  than  e\en 
they  had  ever  known  above  it,  and  were  shut  up  in  another 
kind  of  box,  their  condition  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  under- 
gone any  material  change  when  they  in  turn  were  watched 
themselves. 

Among  the  narrow  thoroughfares  at  hand,  there  lingered, 
here  and  there,  an  ancient  doorway  of  carved  oak,  from  which, 
of  old,  the  sounds  of  revelry  and  feasting  often  came  ;  but 
now  these  mansions,  only  used  for  storehouses,  were  dark  and 
dull,  and,  being  filled  with  wool,  and  cotton,  and  the  like — 
such  heavy  merchandise  as  stifles  sound  and  stops  the  throat 
of  echo — had  an  air  of  palpable  deadness  about  them  which, 
added  to  their  silence  and  desertion,  made  them  ver}'  grim.  In 
like  manner,,  there  were  gloomy  court-yards  in  these  parts, 
into  which  few  but  belated  wayfarers  ever  strayed,  and  where 
vast  bags  and  packs  of  goods,  upward  or  downward  bound, 
were  for  ever  dangling  between  heaven  and  earth  from  lofty 


I  •;  6  MA  R  TLV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

cranes.  There  were  more  trucks  near  Todgers's  than  you 
would  suppose  a  whole  city  could  ever  need  ;  not  active  trucks, 
but  a  vagabond  race,  for  ever  lounging  in  the  narrow  lanes  be- 
fore their  masters'  doors  and  stopping  up  the  pass  ;  so  that  when 
a  stray  hackney-coach  or  lumbering  wagon  came  that  way, 
they  were  the  cause  of  such  an  uproar  as  enlivened  the  whole 
neighborhood,  and  made  the  bells  in  the  next  church-tower 
vibrate  again.  In  the  throats  and  maws  of  dark  no-thorough- 
fares near  Todgers's,  individual  wine-merchants  and  wholesale 
dealers  in  grocery-ware  had  perfect  little  towns  of  their  own  ; 
and,  deep  among  the  foundations  of  these  buildings,  the  ground 
was  undermined  and  burrowed  out  into  stables,  where  cart- 
horses, troubled  by  rats,  might  be  heard  on  a  quiet  Sunday 
rattling  their  halters,  as  disturbed  spirits  in  tales  of  haunted 
houses  are  said  to  clank  their  chains. 

To  tell  of  half  the  queer  old  taverns  that  had  a  drowsy  and 
secret  existence  near  Todgers's  would  fill  a  goodly  book  ;  while 
a  second  volume  no  less  capacious  might  be  devoted  to  an 
account  of  the  quaint  old  guests  who  frequent  their  dimly- 
lighted  parlors.  These  were,  in  general,  ancient  inhabitants 
of  that  region  ;  born,  and  bred  there  from  boyhood  ;  who  had 
long  since  become  wheezy  and  asthmatical,  and  short  of  breath 
except  in  the  article  of  story-telling,  in  which  respect  they 
were  still  marvellously  long-winded.  These  gentry  were  much 
opposed  to  steam  and  all  new-fangled  ways,  and  held  ballooning 
to  be  sinful,  and  deplored  the  degeneracy  of  the  times  ;  which 
that  particular  member  of  each  little  club  who  kept  the  keys 
of  the  nearest  church  professionally,  always  attributed  to  the 
prevalence  of  dissent  and  irreligion  :  though  the  major  part 
of  the  company  inclined  to  the  belief  that  virtue  went  out 
with  hair-powder,  and  that  Old  England's  greatness  had  de- 
cayed amain  with  barbers. 

As  to  Todgers's  itself — speaking  of  it  only  as  a  house  in 
that  neighborhood,  and  making  no  reference  to  its  merits  as  a 
commercial  boarding  establishment — it  was  worthy  to  stand 
where  it  did.  There  was  one  staircase-window  in  it  at  the 
side  of  the  house,  on  the  ground-floor,  which  tradition  said 
had  not  been  opened  for  a  hundred  years  at  least,  and  which, 
abutting  on  an  always  dirty  lane,  was  so  begrimed  and  coated 
with  a  century's  mud,  that  no  one  pane  of  glass  could  jjossibly 
fall  out,  though  all  were  cracked  and  broken  twenty  times. 
But  the  grand  mystery  of  Tor'ger's  was  the  cellarage,  approach- 
able only  by  a  little  back  door   and  a  rusty  grating,  which 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT. 


137 


cellarage  within  the  memory  of  man  had  liad  no  connection  with 
the  house,  but  had  always  been  the  freehold  property  of  some- 
body else,  and  was  reported  to  be  full  of  wealth  :  though  in 
what  shape — whether  in  silver,  brass,  or  gold,  or  butts  of  wine, 
or  casks  of  gunpowder — was  a  matter  of  profound  uncertainty 
and  supreme  indifference  to  Todgers's,  and  all  its  mmates. 

The  top  of  the  house  was  worthy  of  notice.  There  was 
a  sort  of  terrace  on  the  roof,  with  posts  and  fragments  of  rotten 
lines,  once  intended  to  dry  clothes  upon  ;  and  there  were  two 
or  three  tea-chests  out  there,  full  of  earth,  with  forgotten  plants 
in  them,  like  old-walking-sticks.  Whoever  climbed  to  the  ob- 
servatory, was  stunned  at  first  from  having  knocked  his  head 
against  the  little  door  in  coming  out  ;  and  after  that,  was  for 
the  moment  choked  from  having  looked,  perforce,  straight 
down  the  kitcheA  chimney ;  but  these  two  stages  over,  there 
were  things  to  gaze  at  from  the  top  of  Todgers's,  well  worth 
your  seeing  too.  For  first  and  foremost,  if  the  day  were  bright, 
ypu  observed  upon  the  house-tops,  stretching  far  away,  a  long 
dark  path — the  shadow  of  the  Monument — and  turning  round, 
the  tall  original  was  close  beside  you,  with  eveiy  hair  erect 
upon  his  golden  head,  as  if  the  doings  of  the  city  frightened 
him.  Then  there  were  steeples,  towers,  belfries,  shining  vanes, 
and  masts  of  ships — a  very  forest.  Gables,  housetops,  garret- 
windows,  wilderness  upon  wilderness.  Smoke  and  noise 
enough  for  all  the  world  at  once. 

After  the  first  glance,  there  were  slight  features  in  the 
midst  of  this  crowd  of  objects,  which  sprung  out  from  the 
mass  without  any  reason,  as  it  were,  and  took  hold  of  the  at- 
tention whether  the  spectator  would  or  no.  Thus,  the  revol- 
ving chimney-pots  on  one  great  stack  of  buildings,  seemed  to 
be  turning  gravely  to  each  other  every  now  and  then,  and 
whispering  the  result  of  their  separate  observation  of  what 
was  going  on  below.  Others,  of  a  crook-backed  shape,  ap- 
peared to  be  maliciously  holding  themselves  askew,  that  they 
might  shut  the  prospect  out  and  bafilie  Todgers's.  The  man 
wno  was  mending  a  pen  at  an  upper  window  over  the  way, 
became  of  paramount  importance  in  the  scene,  and  made  a 
blank  in  it,  ridiculously  disproportionate  in  its  extent,  when 
he  retired.  The  gambols  of  a  piece  of  cloth  upon  the  dyer's 
pole  had  far  more  interest  for  the  moment  than  all  the  chang- 
ing motion  of  the  crowd.  Yet  even  while  the  looker-on  felt 
angry  with  himself  for  this,  and  wondered  how  it  was,  the 
tumult  swelled  into  a  roar  ;  the  hosts  of  objects  seemed  to 


138 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


thicken  and  expand  a  hundred-fold  ;  and  after  gazing  round 
him,  quite  scared,  he  turned  into  Todgers's  again,  much  more 
rapidly  than  he  came  out  ;  and  ten  to  one  he  told  M.  Todgers 
afterwards  tliat  if  he  hadn't  done  so,  he  would  certainly  have 
come  into  the  street  by  the  shortest  cut — that  is  to  say,  head- 
foremost. 

So  said  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  when  they  retired  with 
Mrs.  Todgers  from  this  place  of  espial,  leaving  the  youthful 
porter  to  close  the  door  and  follow  them  down  stairs  \  who 
being  of  a  playful  temperament,  and  contemplating  with  a  de- 
light peculiar  to  his  sex  and  time  of  life,  any  chance  of  dash- 
ing himself  into  small  fragments,  lingered  behind  to  walk  upon 
the  parapet. 

It  being  the  second  day  of  their  stay  in  London,  the  Miss 
Pecksniffs  and  Mrs.  Todgers  were  by  this  time  highly  confi- 
dential, insomuch  that  the  last-named  lady  had  already  com- 
municated the  particulars  of  three  early  disappointments  of  a 
tender  nature  ;  and  had  furthermore  possessed  her  young 
friends  with  a  general  summary  of  the  life,  conduct,  and  char- 
acter of  Mr.  Todgers.  Who,  it  seemed,  had  cut  his  matri- 
monial career  rather  short,  by  unlawfully  running  away  from 
his  happiness,  and  establishing  himself  in  foreign  countries  as 
a  bachelor. 

"  Your  pa  was  once  a  little  particular  in  his  attentions,  my 
dears,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  :  "  but  to  be  your  ma  was  too  much 
happiness  denied  me.  You'd  hardly  know  who  this  was  done 
for,  perhaps  ? " 

She  called  theirattention  to  an  oval  miniature,  like  a  little 
blister,  which  was  tacked  up  over  the  kettle-holder,  and  in 
which  there  was  a  dreamy  shadowing  forth  of  her  own  visage. 

"  It's  a  speaking  likeness  !  "  cried  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"  It  was  considered  so  once,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  warming 
herself  in  a  gentlemanly  manner  at  the  fire:  "but  I  hardly 
thought  you  would  have  known  it,  my  loves." 

They  would  have  known  it  anywhere.  If  they  could  have 
met  with  it  in  the  street,  or  seen  it  in  a  shop  window,  they 
would  have  cried  :  "  Good  gracious  !    Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

"  Presiding  over  an  establishment  like  this,  makes  sad 
havoc  with  the  features,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers.  "  The  gravy  alone,  is  enough  to  add  twenty  years 
to  one's  age,  I  do  assure  you." 

"  Lor  !  "  cried  tiie  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"The  anxiety  of  that  one  item,  my  dears,"  said  Mrs.  Tod- 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  13^ 

gers,  "  keeps  the  mind  continually  upon  the  stretch.  There 
is  no  such  passion  in  human  nature,  as  the  passion »for  gravy 
among  commercial  gentlemen.  It's  nothing  to  say  a  joint 
won't  yield — a  whole  animal  wouldn't  yield— the  amount  of 
gravy  they  expect  each  day  at  dinner.  And  what  I  have  un- 
dergone in  consequence,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  raising  her 
eyes  and  shaking  her  head,  "no  one  would  believe  !  " 

"  Just  like  Mr.  Pinch,  Merry  !  "  said  Charity.  "We  have 
always  noticed  it  in  him,  you  remember  }  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  giggled  Merry,  "  but  we  have  ne\'er  given 
it  him,  you  know." 

"You,  my  dears,  having  to  deal  with  your  pa's  pupils  who 
can't  help  themselves,  are  able  to  take  your  own  way,"  said 
Mrs.  Todgers,  "  but  in  a  commercial  establishment,  where  any 
gentleman  may  say,  any  Saturday  evening,  '  Mrs.  Todgers, 
this  day  week  we'^part,  in  consequence  of  the  cheese,'  it  is  not 
so  easy  to  preserve  a  pleasant  understanding.  Your  pa  was 
kind  enough,"  added  the  good  lady,  "  to  invite  me  to  take  a 
ride  with  you  to-day  ;  and  I  think  he  mentioned  that  you 
were  going  to  call  upon  Miss  Pinch.  Any  relation  to  the  gen- 
tleman you  were  speaking  of  just  now,  Miss  Pecksniff  ?  " 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  interposed  the  lively 
Merry,  "  don't  call  him  a  gentleman.  My  dear  Cherry,  Pinch 
a. gentleman  !     The  idea.  " 

"  What  a  wicked  girl  you  are  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  em- 
bracing her  with  great  affection.  "  You  are  quite  a  quiz  1  do 
declare !  My  dear  Miss  Pecksniff,  what  a  happiness  your 
sister's  spirits  must  be  to  your  pa  and  self !  " 

"  He's  the  most  hideous,  goggle  eyed  creature,  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers, in  existence,"  resumed  Merry:  "quite  an  ogre.  The 
ugliest,  awkwardest,  frightfullest  being,  you  can  imagine.  This 
is  his  sister,  so  1  leave  you  to  suppose  what  she  is.  1  shall  be 
obliged  to  laugh  outright,  1  know  I  shall  !  "  cried  the  charm- 
ing girl,  "  I  never  shall  be  able  to  keep  my  countenance.  The 
notion  of  a  Miss  Pinch  presuming  to  exist  at  all  is  sufficient 
to  kill  one,  but  to  see  her — oh  my  stars  ! " 

Mrs.  Todgers  laughed  immensely  at  the  dear  love's  humor, 
and  declared  she  was  quite  afraid  of  her,  that  she  was.  She 
was  so  very  severe. 

"  Who  is  severe  ?  "  cried  a  \oice  at  the  door.  "  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  severity  in  our  family,  I  hope  !  "  And  then 
Mr.  Pecksniff  peeped  smilingly  into  the  room,  and  said,  "  May 
I  come  in,  Mrs.  Todgers  .'' " 


1 40  MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

Mrs.  'iTodgers  almost  screamed,  for  the  little  door  of  com- 
munication between  that  room  and  the  inner  one  being  wide 
open,  there  was  a  full  disclosure  of  the  sofa  bedstead  in  all  its 
monstrous  impropriety.  But  she  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
close  this  portal  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ;  and  having  done 
so,  said,  though  not  without  confusion,  "  Oh  yes,  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, you  can  come  in,  if  you  please." 

"  How  are  we  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  jocosely  ;  "and 
what  are  our  plans  ?  Are  we  ready  to  go  and  see  Tom 
Pinch's  sister?     Ha,  ha,  ha !     Poor  Thomas  Pinch  !  " 

"  Are  we  ready,"  returned  Mrs.  Todgers,  nodding  her 
head  with  mysterious  intelligence,  "  to  send  a  favorable  reply 
to  Mr.  Jinkins's  round-robin?  That's  the  first  question,  Mr. 
Pecksniff." 

"  Why  Mr.  Jinkins's  robin,  my  dear  madam  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  putting  one  arm  round  Mercy,  and  the  other  round 
Mrs.  Todgers,  whom  he  seemed,  in  the  abstraction  of  the 
moment,  to  mistake  for  Charity.     "  Why  Mr.  Jinkins's?  " 

"  Because  he  began  to  get  it  up,  and  indeed  always  takes 
the  lead  in  the  house,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  playfully.  "  That's 
why,  sir." 

"  Jinkins  is  a  man  of  superior  talents,"  observed  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  "  I  have  conceived  a  great  regard  for  Jinkins.  I 
take  Jinkins's  desire  to  pay  polite  attention  to  my  daughters, 
as  an  additional  proof  of  the  friendly  feeling  of  Jinkins,  Mrs. 
Todgers." 

"  Well  now,"  returned  that  lady,  "  having  said  so  much, 
you  must  say  the  rest,  Mr.  Pecksniff :  so  tell  the  dear  young 
ladies  all  about  it." 

With  these  words,  she  gently  eluded  Mr.  Pecksniff's  grasp, 
and  took  Miss  Charity  into  her  own  embrace  ;  though  whether 
she  was  impelled  to  this  proceeding  solely  by  the  irrepressible 
affection  she  had  conceived  for  that  young  lady,  or  whether  it 
had  any  reference  to  a  lowering,  not  to  say  distinctly  spiteful 
expression  which  had  been  visible  in  her  face  for  some 
moments,  has  never  been  exactly  ascertained.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  Mr.  Pecksniff  went  on  to  inform  his  daughters  of  the 
purport  and  history  of  the  round-robin  aforesaid,  which  was 
in  brief,  that  the  commercial  gentlemen  who  helped  to  make 
?ip  the  sum  and  substance  of  that  noun  of  multitude  or  signify- 
ing many,  called  Todgers's,  desired  the  honor  of  their  pres- 
ence at  the  general  table,  so  long  as  they  remained  in  the 
house,  and  besought  that  they  would  grace  the  board  at  dinner- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  141 

time  next  clay,  the  same  being  Sunday.  He  furtlier  said,  that 
Mrs.  Todgers  being  a  consenting  party  to  this  invitation,  he 
was  wilUng,  for  this  part,  to  accept  it ;  and  so  left  them  that 
he  might  write  his  gracious  answer,  the  while  they  armed 
themselves  with  their  best  bonnets  for  the  utter  defeat  and 
overthrow  of  Miss  Pinch. 

Tom  Pinch's  sister  was  governess  in  a  family,  a  lofty 
family  ;  perhaps  the  wealthiest  brass  and  copper  founders' 
family  known  to  mankind.  They  lived  at  Camberwell  ;  in  a 
house  so  big  and  fierce,  that  its  mere  outside,  like  the  outside 
of  a  giant's  castle,  struck  terror  into  vulgar  minds  and  made 
bold  persons  quail.  There  was  a  great  front  gate  ;  with 
a  great  bell,  whose  handle  was  in  itself  a  note  of  admira- 
tion ;  and  a  great  lodge  ;  which  being  close  to  the  house, 
rather  spoilt  the  Jook-out  certainly,  but  made  the  look-in  tre- 
mendous. At  this  entr)',  a  great  porter  kept  constant  watch 
and  ward ;  and  when  he  gave  the  visitor  high  leave  to  pass, 
he  rang  a  second  great  bell,  responsive  to  whose  note  a  great 
footman  appeared  in  due  time  at  the  great  hall-door,  with 
such  great  tags  upon  his  liveried  shoulder  that  he  was  per- 
petually entangling  and  hooking  himself  among  the  chairs  and 
tables,  and  led  a  life  of  torment  which  could  scarcely  have 
been  surpassed,  if  he  had  been  a  blue-bottle  in  a  world  of 
cobwebs. 

To  this  mansion,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  accompanied  by  his 
daughters  and  Mrs.  Todgers,  dro\e  gallantly  in  a  one-horse 
fly  The  foregoing  ceremonies  having  been  all  performed, 
they  were  ushered  into  the  house  ;  and  so,  by  degrees,  they 
got  at  last  into  a  small  room  with  books  in  it,  where  Mr. 
Pinch's  sister  was  at  that  moment  instructing  her  eldest  pupil  : 
to  wit,  a  premature  little  woman  of  thirteen  years  old,  who 
had  already  arrived  at  such  a  pitch  of  whalebone  and  educa- 
tion that  she  had  nothing  girlish  about  her,  which  was  a 
source  of  great  rejoicing  to  all  her  relations  and  friends. 

"  Visitors  for  Miss  Pinch  !"  said  the  footman.  He  must 
have  been  an  ingenious  young  man,  for  he  said  it  very  cleverly, 
with  a  nice  discrimination  between  the  cold  respect  with 
which  he  would  have  announced  visitors  to  the  family,  and 
the  warm  personal  interest  with  which  he  would  have  an- 
nounced visitors  to  the  cook. 

"  Visitors  for  Miss  Pinch  !  " 

Miss  Pinch  rose  hastily,  with  such  tokens  or  agitation  as 
plainly  declared  that  her  list  of  callers  was   not   numerous. 


142 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


At  the  same  time,  the  Uttle  pupil  became  alarmingly  upright, 
and  prepared  herself  to  take  mental  notes  of  all  that  might  be 
said  and  done.  For  the  lady  of  the  establishment  was  curious 
in  the  natural  history  and  habits  of  the  animal  called  Gover- 
ness, and  encouraged  her  daughters  to  report  thereon  when- 
ever occasion  served  ;  which  was,  in  reference  to  all  parties 
concerned,  very  laudable,  improving,  and  pleasant. 

It  is  a  melancholy  fact ;  but  it  must  be  related,  that  Mr. 
Pinch's  sister  was  not  at  all  ugly.  On  the  contrary,  she  had 
a  good  face,  a  very  mild  and  prepossessing  face,  and  ?. 
pretty  little  figure — slight  and  short,  but  remarkable  for  its 
neatness.  There  was  something  of  her  brother,  much  of  him 
indeed,  in  a  certain  gentleness  of  manner,  and  in  her  look  of 
timid  trustfulness  \  but  she  was  so  far  from  being  a  fright,  or 
a  dowdy,  or  a  horror,  or  anything  else,  predicted  by  the  two 
Miss  Pecksniffs,  that  those  young  ladies  naturally  regarded 
her  with  great  indignation,  feeling  that  this  was  by  no  means 
what  they  had  come  to  see. 

Miss  Mercy,  as  having  the  larger  share  of  gayety,  bore  up 
the  best  against  this  disappointment,  and  carried  it  off,  in 
outward  show  at  least,  with  a  titter  ;  but  her  sister,  not  caring 
to  hide  her  disdain,  expressed  it  pretty  openly  in  her  looks. 
As  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  she  leaned  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's  arm  and 
preserved  a  kind  of  genteel  grimness,  suitable  to  any  state  of 
mind,  and  involving  any  shade  of  opinion. 

"  Don't  be  alanned,  Miss  Pinch,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
taking  her  hand  condescendingly  in  one  of  his,  and  patting  it 
with  the  other.  "  I  have  called  to  see  you,  in  pursuance  of  a 
promise  given  to  your  brother,  Thomas  Pinch.  My  name — 
compose  yourself.  Miss  Pinch — is  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  emphasized  these  words  as  though  he  would 
have  said,  "  You  see  in  me,  young  person,  the  benefactor  of 
your  race  ;  the  patron  of  your  house  ;  the  preser\'er  of  your 
brother,  who  is  fed  with  manna  daily  from  my  table  ;  and  in 
right  of  whom  there  is  a  considerable  balance  in  my  favor  at 
present  standing  in  the  books  beyond  the  sky.  But  I  ha\e 
no  pride,  for  I  can  afford  to  do  without  it  !  " 

The  poor  girl  felt  it  all  as  if  it  had  been  Gospel  Truth. 
Her  brother  writing  in  the  fulness  of  his  simple  heart,  had 
often  told  her  so,  and  how  much  more  !  As  Mr.  Pecksniff 
ceased  to  speak,  she  hung  her  head,  and  dropped  a  tear  upon 
his  hand. 

"Oh  very  well,    Miss  Pinch !"  thought  the    sharp   pupil, 


MARTIX  CHUZZLEWIT. 


'43 


"  cr}-ing  before  strangers,  as  if  you  didn't  like  the  situa- 
tion !  " 

"  Thomas  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  "  and  sends  his 
love  and  this  letter.  I  cannot  say,  poor  fellow,  that  he  will 
ever  be  distinguished  in  our  profession  ;  but  he  has  the  will 
to  do  well,  which  is  the  next  thing  to  having  the  power  ;  and, 
therefore,  we  must  bear  with  him.     Eh  ?  " 

"  I  know  he  has  the  will,  sir,"  said  Tom  Pinch's  sister, 
"  and  1  know  how  kindly  and  considerately  you  cherish  it,  for 
which  neither  he  nor  1  can  ever  be  grateful  enough,  as  we 
very  often  say  m  writing  to  each  other.  The  young  ladies 
too,"  she  added,  glancing  gratefully  at  his  two  daughters,  "  I 
know  how  much  we  owe  to  them." 

"My  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  to  them  with  a 
smile  ;  "  Thomas's  sister  is  saying  something  you  will  be  glad 
to  hear,  I  think." 

"  We  can't  take  any  merit  to  ourselves,  papa  !  "  cried 
Cherry,  as  they  both  apprised  Tom  Pinch's  sister,  with  a 
curtsey,  that  they  would  feel  obliged  if  she  would  keep  her 
distance.  "  Mr.  Pinch's  being  so  well  provided  for  is  owing 
to  you  alone,  and  we  can  only  say  how  glad  we  are  to  hear 
that  he  is  as  grateful  as  he  ought  to  be." 

"  Oh  very  well,  Miss  Pinch  !  "  thought  the  pupil  again. 
"  Got  a  grateful  brother,  living  on  other  people's  kindness  !  " 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Tom  Pinch's  sister,  with 
Tom's  own  simplicity,  and  Tom's  own  smile,  "  to  come  here  : 
very  kind  indeed  :  though  how  great  a  kindness  you  have 
done  me  in  gratifying  my  wish  to  see  you,  and  to  thank  you 
with  my  own  lips,  you,  who  make  so  light  of  benefits  conferred, 
can  scarcely  think." 

"  Very  grateful  ;  very  pleasant ;  very  proper,"  murmured 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  It  makes  me  happy  too,"  said  Ruth  Pinch,  who  now 
that  her  first  surprise  was  over,  had  a  chatty,  cheerful  way 
with  her,  and  a  single-hearted  desire  to  look  upon  the  best 
side  of  everything,  which  was  the  very  moral  and  image  of 
Tom  \  "very  happy  to  think  that  you  will  be  able  to  tell  him 
how  more  than  comfortablv  I  am  situated  here,  and  how  un- 
necessarjMt  is  that  he  should  ever  waste  a  regret  on  my  being 
cast  upon  my  own  resources.  Dear  me  !  So  long  as  I  heard 
that  he  was  happy,  and  he  heard  that  I  was,"  said  Tom's  sisier, 
"  we  could  both  bear,  without  one  impatient  or  complaining 
thought,  a  great  deal  more  than  ever  we  have  had  to  endure, 


144 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT, 


I  am  veiy  certain."  And  if  ever  the  plain  truth  were  spoken 
on  this  occasionally  false  earth,  Tom's  sister  spoke  it  when 
she  said  that. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  whose  eyes  had  in  the  mean- 
time wandered  to  the  pupil ;  "  certainl}'.  And  how  do  yoit 
do,  my  very  interesting  child  ?  " 

"Quite  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  that  frosty  innocent. 

"A  sweet  face  this,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning 
to  his  daughters.     "  A  charming  manner  !  " 

Both  young  ladies  had  been  in  ecstasies  with  the  scion  of 
a  wealthy  house  (through  whom  the  nearest  road  and  shortest 
cut  to  her  parents  might  be  supposed  to  lie)  from  the  first. 
Mrs.  Todgers  vowed  that  anything  one  quarter  so  angelic  she 
had  never  seen.  "  She  wanted  but  a  pair  of  wings,  a  dear," 
said  that  good  woman,  "  to  be  a  young  synip  :  "  meaning,  pos- 
sibly, young  sylph,  or  seraph. 

"  If  you  will  give  that  to  your  distinguished  parents,  my 
amiable  little  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  producing  one  of 
his  professional  cards,  "  and  will  say  that  I  and  my 
daughters — " 

"And  Mrs.  Todgers,  pa,"  said  Merry. 

"And  Mrs.  Todgers,  of  London,"  added  Mr.  Pecksniff; 
"  that  I  and  my  daughters,  and  Mrs.  Todgers,  of  London,  did 
not  intrude  upon  them,  as  our  object  simply  was  to  take  some 
notice  of  Miss  Pinch,  whose  brother  is  a  young  man  in  my 
employment  ;  but  that  1  could  not  leave  this  very  chaste  man- 
sion, without  adding  my  humble  tribute,  as  an  Architect,  to 
the  correctness  and  elegance  of  the  owner's  taste,  and  to  his 
just  appreciation  of  that  beautiful  art  to  the  cultivation  of 
which  1  have  devoted  a  life,  and  to  the  promotion  of  whose 
glory  and  advancement  I  have  sacrificed  a  —  a  fortune — I 
shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Missis's  compliments  to  Miss  Pinch,"  said  the  footman, 
suddenly  appearing,  and  speaking  in  exactly  the  same  key  as 
before,  "  and  begs  to  know  wot  my  young  lady  is  a  learning 
of  just  now." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Here  is  the  young  man.  He 
will  take  the  card.  With  my  compliments,  if  you  please, 
young  man.  My  dears,  we  are  interrupting  the  studies.  Let 
us  go." 

Some  confusion  was  occasioned  for  an  instant  by  Mrs. 
Todgers's  unstrapping  her  little  flat  hand-basket,  and  hurriedly 
entrusting  the  "  young  man  "  with  one  of  her  own  cards,  which, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  145 

in  addition  to  certain  detailed  information  relative  to  the  terms 
of  the  commercial  establishment,  bore  a  foot-note  to  the  effect 
that  M.  T.  took  that  opportunity  of  thanking  those  gentlemen 
who  had  honored  her  with  their  favors,  and  begged  they  would 
have  the  goodness,  if  satisfied  with  the  table,  to  recommend 
her  to  their  friends.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  admirable  pres- 
ence of  mind,  recovered  this  document,  and  buttoned  it  up  in 
his  own  pocket. 

Then  he  said  to  Miss  Pinch  :  with  more  condescension 
and  kindness  than  ever,  for  it  was  desirable  the  footman 
should  expressly  understand  that  they  were  not  friends  of 
hers,  but  patrons  : 

"  Good-morning.  Good-by.  God  bless  you !  Vou  may 
depend  upon  my  continued  protection  of  your  brother 
Thomas.     Keep  your  mind  quite  at  ease,  Miss  Pinch  !  " 

"Thank  you,"   said  Tom's   sister  heartily;    "a   thousand 
times." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  retorted,  patting  her  gently  on  the  head. 
"  Don't  mention  it.  You  will  make  me  angry  if  you  do.  My 
sweet  child,"  to  the  pupil,  "farewell  !  That  fairy  creature," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  in  his  pensive  mood  hard  at  the 
footman,  as  if  he  meant  him,  "  has  shed  a  vision  on  my  path, 
refulgent  in  its  nature,  and  not  easily  to  be  obliterated.  My 
dears,  are  you  ready  }  " 

They  were  not  quite  ready  yet,  for  they  were  still  caressing 
the  pupil.  But  they  tore  themselves  away  at  length  ;  and 
sweeping  past  Miss  Pinch  with  each  a  haughty  inclination  of 
the  head  and  a  curtsey  strangled  in  its  birth,  flounced  into  the 
passage. 

The  young  man  had  rather  a  long  job  in  showing  them 
out  ;  for  Mr.  Pecksniff's  delight  in  the  tastefulness  of  the 
house  was  such  that  he  could  not  help  often  stopping  (partic- 
ularly when  they  were  near  the  parlor  door)  and  giving  it  ex- 
pression, in  a  loud  voice  and  ver)^  learned  terms.  Indeed,  he 
delivered  between  the  study  and  the  hall,  a  familiar  exposition 
of  the  whole  science  of  architecture  as  applied  to  dwelling- 
houses,  and  was  yet  in  the  freshness  of  his  eloquence  when 
they  reached  the  garden. 

"  If  you  look,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  backing  from  the  steps, 
with  his  head  on  one  side  and  his  eyes  half-shut  that  he 
might  the  better  take  in  the  proportions  of  the  exterior — "  if 
you  look,  my  dears,  at  the  cornice  which  supports  the  roof,  and 
observe  the  airiness  of  its  construction,  especially  where  it 

10 


1 46  ^lAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

sweeps  the  southern  angle  of  the  building,  you  will  feel  with  me 
— How  do  you  do,  sir  ?     I  hope  you're  well  ?  " 

Interrupting  himself  with  these  words,  he  very  politely 
bowed  to  a  middle-aged  gentleman  at  an  upper  window,  to 
whom  he  spoke,  not  because  the  gentleman  could  hear  him, 
(for  he  certainly  could  not),  but  as  an  appropriate  accompani- 
ment to  his  salutation. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  feigning 
to  point  out  other  beauties  with  his  hand,  "  that  this  is  the 
proprietor.  I  should  be  glad  to  know  him.  It  might  lead  to 
something.     Is  he  looking  this  way.  Charity  ?  " 

"He  is  opening  the  window,  pa !  " 

"  Ha,  ha  !  ''  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  softly.  "  All  right  !  He 
has  found  I'm  professional.  He  heard  me  inside  just  now,  I 
have  no  doubt.  Don't  look  !  With  regard  to  the  fluted  pil- 
lars in  the  portico,  my  dears — " 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  the  gentleman. 

"  Sir,  your  servant !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  off  his 
hat.     "  I  am  proud  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"  Come  off  the  grass,  will  you  !  "  roared  the  gentleman. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  doubtful  of 
his  having  heard  aright.     "  Did  you —  .-'  " 

"  Come  off  the  grass  !  "  repeated  the  gentleman,  warmly. 

"We  are  unwilling  to  intrude,  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  smilingly 
began. 

"  But  you  are  intruding,"  returned  the  other,  "  unwar- 
rantably intruding.  Trespassing.  You  see  a  gravel  walk, 
don't  you?  What  do  you  think  it's- meant  for .''  Open  the 
gate  there  !     Show  that  party  out !  " 

With  that  he  clapped  down  the  window  again,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  put  on  his  hat,  and  walked  with  great  de- 
liberation and  in  profound  silence  to  the  fly,  gazing  at  the 
clouds  as  he  went,  with  great  interest.  After  helping  his 
daughters  and  Mrs.  Todgers  into  that  conveyance,  he  stood 
looking  at  it  for  some  moments,  as  if  he  were  not  quite  certain 
whether  it  was  a  carriage  or  a  temple  ;  but,  having  settled  this 
point  in  his  mind,  he  got  into  his  place,  spread  his  hands  out 
on  his  knees,  and  smiled  upon  the  three  beholders. 

But  his  daughters,  less  tranquil-minded,  burst  into  a  tor- 
rent of  indignation.  This  came,  they  said,  of  cherishing  such 
creatures  as  the  Pinches.  This  came  of  lowering  themselves 
to  their  level.     This  came  of  putting  themselves  in  the  hu- 


MARTIA'  CHUZZLEWIT. 


147 


miliating  position  of  seeming  to  know  such  bold,  audacious, 
cunning,  dreadful  girls  as  that.  They  had  expected  this. 
They  had  predicted  it  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  as  she  (Todgers) 
could  depone,  that  very  morning.  To  this,  they  added,  that 
the  owner  of  the  house,  supposing  them  to  be  IMiss  Pinch's 
friends,  had  acted,  in  their  opinion,  quite  correctly,  and  had 
done  no  more  than,  under  such  circumstances,  might  reason- 
al)ly  have  been  expected.  To  that  they  added  (with  a  triliing 
inconsistency),  that  he  was  a  brute  and  a  bear  ;  and  then  they 
merged  into  a  flood  of  tears,  which  swept  away  all  wandering 
epithets  before  it. 

Perhaps  Miss  Pinch  was  scarcely  so  much  to  blame  in  the 
matter  as  the  Seraph,  who,  immediately  on  the  withdrawal  of 
the  visitors,  had  hastened  to  report  them  at  head-quarters, 
with  a  full  account  of  their  having  presumptuously  charged  her 
with  the  delivery  of  a  message  afterwards  consigned  to  the 
footman  ;  which  outrage,  taken  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's unobtrusive  remarks  on  the  establishment,  might  pos- 
sibly have  had  some  share  in  their  dismissal.  Poor  Miss 
Pinch,  however,  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it  with  both  parties  ; 
being  so  severely  taken  to  task  by  the  Seraph's  mother  for 
having  such  vulgar  acquaintances,  that  she  was  fain  to  retire 
to  her  own  room  in  tears,  which  her  natural  cheerfulness  and 
submission,  and  the  delight  of  having  seen  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and 
having  received  a  letter  from  her  brother,  were  at  first  in- 
sufficient to  repress. 

As  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  he  told  them  in  the  fly,  that  a  good 
action  was  its  own  reward  ;  and  rather  gave  them  to  under- 
stand, that  if  he  could  have  been  kicked  in  such  a  cause,  he 
would  have  liked  it  all  the  better.  Jiut  this  was  no  comfort 
to  the  young  ladies,  who  scolded  violently  the  whole  way  back, 
and  even  exhibited,  more  than  once,  a  keen  desire  to  attack 
the  devoted  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  whose  personal  appearance,  but 
particularly  on  whose  offending  card  and  hand-basket,  they 
were  secretly  inclined  to  lay  the  blame  of  half  their  failure. 

Todgers's  was  in  a  great  bustle  that  evening,  partly  owing 
to  some  additional  domestic  preparations  for  the  morrow,  and 
partly  to  the  excitement  always  inseparable  in  that  house  from 
Saturday  night,  when  every  gentleman's  linen  arrived  at  a 
different  hour  in  its  own  little  bundle,  with  his  private  account 
pinned  on  the  outside.  There  was  always  a  great  clinking  of 
pattens  down  stairs,  too,  until  midniglit,  or  so,  on  Saturdays  j 
together  with  a  frequent  gleaming  of  mysterious  lights  in  the 


1 48  MA  R  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 

area,  much  working  at  the  pump,  and  a  constant  jangling  of 
the  iron  handle  of  the  pail.  Shrill  altercations  from  time  to 
time  arose  between  Mrs.  Todgers  and  unknown  females  in  re- 
mote back  kitchens  ;  and  sounds  were  occasionally  heard, 
indicativ'e  of  small  articles  of  ironmongery  and  hardware  being 
thrown  at  the  boy.  It  was  the  custom  of  that  youth  on  Satur- 
days, to  roll  up  his  shirt  sleeves  to  his  shoulders,  and  pervade 
all  parts  of  the  house  in  an  apron  of  coarse  green  baize  ;  more- 
over, he  was  more  strongly  tempted  on  Saturdays  than  on 
other  days  (it  being  a  busy  time},  to  make  excursive  bolts  into 
the  neighboring  alleys  when  he  answered  the  door,  and  there 
to  play  at  leap-frog  and  other  sports  with  vagrant  lads,  until 
pursued  and  brought  back  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  or  the  lobe 
of  his  ear ;  thus,  he  was  quite  a  conspicuous  feature  among 
the  peculiar  incidents  of  the  last  day  in  the  week  at  Todgers's. 

He  was  especially  so  on  this  particular  Saturday  evening, 
and  honored  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  with  a  deal  of  notice  ;  seldom 
passing  the  door  of  Mrs.  Todgers's  private  room,  where  they 
sat  alone  before  the  fire,  working  by  the  light  of  a  solitary 
candle,  without  putting  in  his  head  and  greeting  them  with 
some  such  compliments  as,  "  There  you  are  agin  !  "  "  Ain't  it 
nice  ?  "  and  similar  humorous  attentions. 

"I  say,"  he  whispered,  stopping  in  one  of  his  journeys  to 
and  fro,  "young  ladies,  there's  soup  to-morrow.  She's  a 
making  it  now.  Ain't  she  a  putting  in  the  water  ?  Oh  !  not 
at  all  neither  !  " 

In  the  course  of  answering  another  knock,  he  thrust  in  his 
head  again. 

"  I  say  !  There's  fowls  to-morrow.  Not  skinny  ones.  Oh 
no!" 

Presently  he  called  through  the  key-hole  : 

"  I'here's  a  fish  to-morrow.  Just  come.  Don't  eat  none 
of  him  !  "     And,  with  this  special  warning,  vanished  again. 

By  and  by,  he  returned  to  lay  the  cloth  for  supj^er,  it 
having  been  arranged  between  Mrs.  Todgers  and  the  young 
ladies,  that  they  should  partake  of  an  exclusive  veal-cutlet  to- 
gether in  the  privacy  of  that  apartment.  He  entertained  them 
on  this  occasion  by  thrusting  the  lighted  candle  into  his  mouth, 
and  exhibiting  his  face  in  a  state  of  transparency  ;  after  the 
performance  of  which  feat,  he  went  on  with  his  professional 
duties,  brightening  every  knife  as  he  laid  it  on  the  table,  by 
breathing  on  the  blade  and  afterwards  polishing  the  same  on 
the  apron  already  mentioned.     When  he  had  completed  his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


149 


preparations,  he  grinned  at  the  sisters,  and  expressed  his 
belief  that  the  approaching  collation  would  be  of  "  rather  a 
spicy  sort." 

"Will  it  be  long  before  it's  ready,  Bailey  ?  "  asked  Mercy, 

"  No,"  said  Bailey,  ''it  is  cooked.  When  I  come  up,  she 
was  dodging  among  the  tender  pieces  with  a  fork,  and  eating 
of  'em." 

But  he  had  scarcely  achieved  the  utterance  of  these  words, 
when  he  received  a  manual  compliment  on  the  head,  which 
sent  him  staggering  against  the  wall ;  and  Mrs.  Todgers,  dish 
in  hand,  stood  indignantly  before  him. 

"  Oh  you  little  villain  !  "  said  that  lady.  "  Oh  you  bad,  false 
boy ! " 

"  No  worse  than  yerself,"  retorted  Bailey,  guarding  his 
head,  on  a  principle  invented  by  Mr.  Thomas  Cribb.  "  Ah  ! 
Come  now  !     Do  that  agin,  will  yer  ?  " 

"  He's  the  most  dreadful  child,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  setting 
down  the  dish,  "  I  ever  had  to  deal  with.  The  gentlemen 
spoil  him  to  that  extent,  and  teach  him  such  things,  that  I'm 
afraid  nothing  but  hanging  will  ever  do  him  any  good." 

"  Won't  it !  "  cried  ifailey.  "  Oh  !  Yes  !  Wot  do  you 
go  a  lowerin  the  table-beer  for  then,  and  destroying  my  con- 
stitooshun  ?  " 

"Go  down  stairs,  you  vicious  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
holding  the  door  open.     "  Do  you  hear  me  .''     Go  along  !  " 

After  two  or  three  dexterous  feints,  he  went,  and  was  seen 
no  more  that  night,  save  once,  when  he  brought  up  some 
tumblers  and  hot  water,  and  much  disturbed  the  two  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs by  squinting  hideously  behind  the  back  of  the  uncon- 
scious Mrs.  Todgers.  Having  done  this  justice  to  his  wounded 
feelings,  he  retired  underground,  where,  in  company  with  a 
swann  of  black  beetles  and  a  kitchen  candle,  he  employed  his 
faculties  in  cleaning  boots  and  brushing  clothes  until  the 
night  was  far  advanced. 

Benjamin  was  supposed  to  be  the  real  name  of  this  young 
retainer,  but  he  was  known  by  a  great  variety  of  names.  Ben- 
jamin, for  instance,  had  been  converted  into  Uncle  Ben,  and 
that  had  been  corrupted  into  Uncle  ;  which,  by  an  easy  tran- 
sition, had  again  passed  into  Barnwell,  in  memor}^  of  the 
celebrated  relative  in  that  degree  who  was  shot  by  his  nephew 
George,  while  meditating  in  his  garden  at  Camberwcll.  The 
gentlemen  at  Todgers's  had  a  merry  habit,  too,  of  bestowing 
upon  him.  for  the  time  being,  the  name  of  any  notorious  male- 


150  MARTrN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

factor  or  minister ;  and  sometimes  when  current  events  were 
flat,  they  even  sought  the  pages  of  history  for  these  distinc- 
tions ;  as  Mr.  Pitt,  Young  Brownrigg,  and  the  like.  At  the 
period  of  which  we  write,  he  was  generally  known  among  the 
gentlemen  as  Bailey  junior  ;  a  name  bestowed  upon  him  in 
contradistinction,  perhaps,  to  Old  Bailey  ;  and  possibly  as  in- 
\olviiig  the  recollection  of  an  unfortunate  lady  of  the  same 
name,  who  perished  by  her  own  hand  early  in  life,  and  has 
been  immortalized  in  a  ballad. 

The  usual  Sunday  dinner-hour  at  Todgers's  was  two 
o'clock  ;  a  suitable  time  it  was  considered,  for  all  parties  ; 
convenient  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  account  of  the  baker's  \  and 
convenient  to  the  gentlemen,  with  reference  to  their  afternoon 
engagements.  But  on  the  Sunday  which  was  to  introduce 
the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  to  a  full  knowledge  of  Todgers's  and 
its  society,  the  dinner  was  postponed  until  five,  in  order  that 
everything  might  be  as  genteel  as  the  occasion  demanded. 

When  the  hour  drew  nigh,  Bailey  junior,  testifying  great 
excitement,  appeared  in  a  complete  suit  of  cast-off  clothes 
several  sizes  too  large  for  him,  and  in  particular,  mounted  a 
clean  shirt  of  such  extraordinary  magnitude,  that  one  of  the 
gentlemen  (remarkable  for  his  ready  wit)  called  him  "  collars  " 
on  the  spot.  At  about  a  quarter  before  five,  a  deputation, 
consisting  of  Mr.  Jinkins,  and  another  gentleman  whose  name 
was  Gander,  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Todgers's  room, 
and,  being  formally  introduced  to  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  by 
their  parent,  who  was  in  waiting,  besought  the  honor  of  con- 
ducting them  up  stairs. 

The  drawing-room  at  Todgers's  was  out  of  the  common 
style  ;  so  much  so  indeed,  that  you  would  hardly  have  taken 
it  to  be  a  drawing-room,  unless  you  were  told  so  by  somebody 
who  was  in  the  secret.  It  was  lioor-clothed  all  over ;  and  the 
ceiling,  including  a  great  beam  in  the  middle,  was  papered. 
Besides  the  three  little  windows  with  seats  in  them, commanding 
the  opposite  archway  there  was  another  window  looking  point, 
blank, without  any  compromise  at  all  about  it,  into  Jinkins's 
bed-room  ;  and  high  up,  all  along  one  side  of  the  wall,  was  a 
strip  of  panes  of  glass,  tvvo-deeix  giving  light  to  the  staircase. 
There  were  the  oddest  closets  possible,  with  little  casements  in 
them,  like  eight-day  clocks,  lurking  in  the  wainscot  and  taking 
the  shape  of  the  stairs  ;  and  the  very  door  itself  (which  was 
painted  black)  had  two  great  glass  eyes  in  its  forehead  with  an 
inquisitive  green  pupil  in  the  middle  of  each. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


151 


Here,  the  gentlemen  were  all  assembled.  There  was  a 
general  cry  of  "  Hear,  hear  !  "  and  ''  Bravo  Jink  !  "  when 
Mr.  Jinkins  appeared  with  Charity  on  his  arm  ;  which  became 
quite  rapturous  as  Mr.  Gander  followed,  escorting  Mercy,  and 
Mr,  Pecksniff  brought  up  the  rear  with  Mrs.  Todgers. 

Then,  the  presentations  took  place.  They  included  a  gen- 
tleman of  a  sporting  turn,  who  propounded  questions  on 
jockey  subjects  to  the  editors  of  Sunday  papers,  which  were 
regarded  by  his  friends  as  rather  stiff  things  to  answer  ;  and 
they  included  a  gentleman  of  a  theatrical  turn,  who  had  once 
entertained  serious  thoughts  of  "  coming  out,"  but  had  been 
kept  in  by  the  wickedness  of  human  nature  ;  and  they  included 
a  gentleman  of  a  debating  turn,  who  was  strong  at  speech- 
making  ;  and  a  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn,  who  wrote  squibs 
upon  the  rest,  and  knew  the  weak  side  of  everybody's  char- 
acter but  his  own.  There  was  a  gentleman  of  a  vocal  turn, 
and  a  gentleman  of  a  smoking  turn,  and  a  gentleman 
of  a  convivial  turn  ;  some  of  the  gentlemen  had  a  turn 
for  whist,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the  gentlemen  had 
a  strong  turn  for  billiards  and  betting.  They  had  all,  it 
may  be  presumed,  a  turn  for  business  ;  being  all  connnercially 
employed  in  one  way  or  other  ;  and  had,  every  one  in  his  own 
way,  a  decided  turn  for  pleasure  to  boot.  Mr.  Jinkins  was  of 
a  fashionable  turn  ;  being  a  regular  frequenter  of  the  Parks 
on  Sundays,  and  knowing  a  great  many  carriages  by  sight. 
He  spoke  mysteriously,  too,  of  splendid  women,  and  was  sus- 
pected of  having  once  committed  himself  with  a  Countess. 
Mr.  Gander  was  of  a  witty  turn,  being  indeed  the  gentleman 
who  had  originated  the  sally  about  "collars;"  which  spark- 
ling pleasantry  was  now  retailed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  under 
the  title  of  Gander's  Last,  and  was  received  in  all  parts  of  the 
room  with  great  applause.  Mr.  Jinkins,  it  may  be  added,  was 
much  the  oldest  of  the  party ;  being  a  fish-salesman's  book- 
keeper, aged  forty.  He  was  the  oldest  boarder  also  ;  and  in 
right  of  his  double  seniority,  took  the  lead  in  the  house,  as 
Mrs.  Todgers  had  already  said. 

There  was  considerable  delay  in  the  production  of  dinner, 
and  poor  Mrs.  Todgers,  being  reproached  in  confidence  by 
Jinkins,  slipped  in  and  out,  at  least  twenty  times,  to  see  about 
it  ;  always  coming  back  as  though  she  had  no  such  thing  upon 
her  mind,  and  hadn't  been  out  at  all.  But  there  was  no  hitch 
in  the  conversation,  nevertheless  ;  for  one  gentleman,  who 
travelled  in  the  perfumery  line,  exhibited  an  interesting  nick- 


152 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


nack,  in  the  way  of  a  remarkable  cake  of  shaving  soap  which 
he  had  lately  met  with  in  Germany  ;  and  the  gentleman  of  a 
literary  turn  repeated  (by  desire)  some  sarcastic  stanzas  he 
had  recently  produced  on  the  freezing  of  the  tank  at  the  back 
of  the  house.  These  amusements,  with  the  miscellaneous  con- 
versation arising  out  of  them,  passed  the  time  splendidly, 
until  dinner  was  announced  by  Bailey  junior  in  these  terms  : 

"  The  wittles  is  up  !  " 

On  which  notice  they  immediately  descended  to  the  ban- 
quet-hall ;  some  of  the  more  facetious  spirits  in  the  rear  tak- 
ing down  gentlemen  as  if  they  were  ladies,  in  imitation  of  the 
fortunate  possessors  of  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  said  grace  :  a  short  and  pious  grace,  invok- 
ing a  blessing  on  the  appetites  of  those  present,  and  commit- 
ting all  persons  who  had  nothing  to  eat,  to  the  care  of  Provi- 
dence ;  whose  business  (so  said  the  grace,  in  effect)  it  clearly 
was,  to  look  after  them.  This  done,  they  fell  to,  with  less 
ceremony  than  appetite  ;  the  table  groaning  beneath  the 
weight,  not  only  of  the  delicacies  whereof  the  Miss  Pecksniffs 
had  been  previously  forewarned,  but  of  boiled  beef,  roast  veal, 
bacon,  pies,  and  abundance  of  such  heavy  vegetables  as  are 
favorably  known  to  house-keepers  for  their  satisfying  qualities. 
Besides  which,  there  were  bottles  of  stout,  bottles  of  wine,  bot- 
tles of  ale,  and  divers  other  strong  drinks,  native  and  foreign. 

All  this  was  highly  agreeable  to  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs, 
who  were  in  immense  request ;  sitting  one  on  either  hand  of 
Mr.  Jinkins  at  the  bottom  of  the  table  ;  and  who  were  called 
upon  to  take  wine  with  some  new  admirer  every  minute.  They 
had  hardly  felt  so  pleasant,  and  so  full  of  conversation,  in 
their  lives  ;  Mercy,  in  particular,  was  uncommonly  brilliant, 
and  said  so  many  good  things  in  the  way  of  lively  repartee 
that  she  was  looked  upon  as  a  prodigy.  "In  short,"  as  that 
young  lady  observed,  "  they  felt  now,  indeed,  that  they  were 
in  London,  and  for  the  first  time  too." 

Their  young  friend  Bailey  sympathized  in  these  feelings  to 
the  fullest  extent,  and,  abating  nothing  of  his  patronage,  gave 
them  every  encouragement  in  his  power  :  favoring  them,  when 
the  general  attention  was  diverted  from  his  proceedings,  with 
many  nods  and  winks  and  other  tokens  of  recognition,  and 
occasionally  touching  his  nose  with  a  corkscrew,  as  if  to 
express  the  Bacchanalian  character  of  the  meeting.  In  truth, 
perhaps  even  the  spirits  of  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  and  the 
hungry  watchfulness  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  were   less  worthy  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


153 


note  than  the  proceedings  of  this  remarkable  boy,  whom  noth- 
ing disconcerted  or  put  out  of  his  way.  If  any  piece  of 
crockery,  a  dish  or  otherwise,  chanced  to  slip  through  his 
hands  (which  happened  once  or  twice),  he  let  it  go  with  per- 
fect good  breeding,  and  never  added  to  the  painful  emotions 
of  the  company  by  exhibiting  the  least  regret.  Nor  did  he, 
by  hurrying  to  and  fro,  disturb  the  repose  of  the  assembly,  as 
many  well-trained  servants  do  ;  on  the  contrary,  feeling  the 
hopelessness  of  waiting  upon  so  large  a  party,  he  left  the  gen- 
tlemen to  help  themselves  to  what  they  wanted,  and  seldom 
stirred  from  behind  Mr.  Jinkins's  chair  :  where,  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  his  legs  planted  pretty  wide  apart,  he  led 
the  laughter,  and  enjoyed  the  conversation. 

The  dessert  was  splendid.  No  waiting  either.  The  pud- 
ding-plates had  been  washed  in  a  little  tub  outside  the  door 
while  cheese  was  on,  and  though  thev  were  moist  and  warm 
with  friction,  still  there  they  were  again,  up  to  the  mark,  and 
true  to  time.  Quarts  of  almonds,  dozens  of  oranges,  pounds 
of  raisins,  stacks  of  biffins,  soup-plates  full  of  nuts.  Oh, 
Todgers's  could  do  it  when  it  chose  !     Mind  that. 

Then  more  wine  came  on  ;  red  wines  and  white  wines  ; 
and  a  large  china  bowl  of  punch,  brewed  by  the  gentleman  of 
a  convivial  turn,  who  adjured  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  not  to  be 
despondent  on  account  of  its  dimensions,  as  there  were  mate- 
rials in  the  house  for  the  decoction  of  lialf  a  dozen  more  of 
the  same  size.  Good  gracious,  how  they  laughed !  How 
they  coughed  when  they  sipped  it,  because  it  was  so  strong  ; 
and  how  they  laughed  again  when  somebody  vowed  that  but 
for  its  color  it  might  have  been  mistaken,  in  regard  of  its 
innocuous  qualities,  for  new  milk  !  What  a  shout  of  "  No !  " 
burst  from  the  gentlemen  when  they  pathetically  implored 
Mr.  Jinkins  to  suffer  them  to  qualify  it  with  hot  water;  and 
how  blushingly,  by  little  and  httle,  did  each  of  them  drink  her 
whole  glassful,  down  to  its  very  dregs  ! 

Now  comes  the  trying  time,  'llie  sun,  as  Mr.  Jinkins  says 
(gentlemanly  creature,  Jinkins — never  at  a  loss  !  ),  is  about  to 
leave  the  firmament.  "  Miss  Pecksniff!  "  says  Mrs.  Todgers, 
softly,  "will  you — ?"  "Oh  dear,  no  more,  Mrs.  Todgers." 
Mrs.  Todgers  rises  ;  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  rise  ;  all  rise. 
Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff  looks  downward  for  her  scarf.  Where 
is  it  ?  Dear  me,  where  am  it  be  ?  Sweet  girl,  she  has  it  on  ; 
not  on  her  fair  neck,  but  loose  upon  her  flowing  figure.  A 
dozen  hands  assist  her.     She  is  all  confusion.     The  youngest 


154 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


gentleman  m  company  thirsts  to  murder  Jinkiris.  She  skips 
and  joins  her  sister  at  the  door.  Her  sister  has  an  arm  about 
the  waist  of  Mrs.  Todgers.  She  winds  her  arm  around  her 
sister.  Diana,  what  a  picture  !  The  hist  things  visible  are  a 
shape  and  a  skip.     "  Gentlemen,  let  us  drink  the  ladies  !  " 

The  enthusiasm  is  tremendous.  The  gentleman  of  a 
debating  turn  rises  in  the  midst,  and  suddenly  lets  loose  a  tide 
of  eloquence  which  bears  down  everything  before  it.  He  is 
reminded  of  a  toast :  a  toast  to  which  they  will  respond. 
There  is  an  individual  present — he  has  him  in  his  eye — to 
whom  they  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude.  He  repeats  it,  a  debt  of 
gratitude.  Their  rugged  natures  have  been  softened  and 
ameliorated  that  day,  by  the  society  of  lovely  woman.  There 
is  a  gentleman  in  company  whom  two  accomplished  and 
delightful  females  regard  with  veneration,  as  the  fountain  of 
their  existence.  Yes,  when  yet  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  lisped 
in  language  scarce  intelligible,  they  called  that  indi\iclual 
"  Father  !  "  There  is  great  applause.  He  gives  them  "  Mr, 
Pecksniff,  and  God  bless  him  !  "  They  all  shake  hands  with 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  they  drink  the  toast.  The  youngest  gentle- 
man in  company  does  so  with  a  thrill ;  for  he  feels  that  a  mys- 
terious influence  pervades  the  man  who  claims  that  being  in 
the  pink  scarf  for  his  daughter. 

What  saith  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  reply  ?  Or  rather  let  the 
question  be,  What  leaves  he  unsaid  .''  Nothing.  More  punch 
is  called  for,  and  produced,  and  drunk.  Enthusiasm  mounts 
still  higher.  Every  man  comes  out  freely  in  his  own  charac- 
ter. The  gentleman  of  a  theatrical  turn  recites.  The  vocal 
gentleman  regales  them  with  a  song.  Gander  leaves  the 
Gander  of  all  former  feasts  whole  leagues  behind.  He  rises 
to  propose  a  toast.  It  is,  The  Father  of  Todgers's.  It  is 
their  common  friend  Jink.  It  is  Old  Jink,  if  he  may  call  him 
by  that  familiar  and  endearing  appellation.  The  youngest 
gentleman  in  company  utters  a  frantic  negative.  He  won't 
have  it,  he  can't  bear  it,  it  mustn't  be.  But  his  depth  of  feel- 
ing is  misunderstood.  He  is  supposed  to  be  a  little  elevated  ; 
and  nobody  heeds  him. 

■Mr.  Jinkins  thanks  them  from  his  heart.  It  is,  by  many 
degrees,  the  proudest  day  in  his  humble  career.  When  he 
looks  around  him  on  the  present  occasion,  he  feels  that  he 
wants  words  in  which  to  express  his  gratitude.  One  thing  he 
will  say.  He  hopes  it  has  been  shown  that  Todgers's  can  be 
true  to  itself ;  and  that,  an  opportunity  arising,  it  can  come 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  155 

out  quite  as  strong  as  its  neighbors — perhaps  stronger.  He 
reminds  them,  amidst  tliunders  of  encouragement,  that  they 
have  heard  of  a  somewhat  simiUir  establisliment  in  Cannon 
Street ;  and  that  they  have  heard  it  praised.  He  wishes  to 
draw  no  invidious  comparisons  ;  he  would  be  the  last  man  to 
do  it  ;  but  when  that  Cannon  Street  establishment  shall  be 
able  to  produce  such  a  combination  of  wit  and  beauty  as  has 
graced  that  board  that  day,  and  shall  be  able  to  serve  up  (all 
things  considered)  such  a  dinner  as  that  of  which  they  have 
just  partaken,  he  will  be  happy  to  talk  to  it.  Until  then,  gen- 
tleman, he  will  stick  to  Todgers's. 

More  punch,  more  enthusiasm,  more  speeches.  Eveiy- 
body's  health  is  drunk,  saving  the  youngest  gentleman's  in 
company.  He  sits  apart,  with  his  elbows  on  the  back  of  a 
vacant  chair,  aifd  glares  disdainfully  at  Jinkins.  Gander,  in 
a  convulsing  speech,  gives  them  the  health  of  Bailey  junior ; 
hiccups  are  heard;  and  a  glass  is  broken.  Mr.  Jinkins  feels 
that  it  is  time  to  join  the  ladies.  He  proposes,  as  a  final  senti- 
ment, Mrs.  Todgers.  She  is  worthy  to  be  remembered  sepa- 
rately. Hear,  hear.  So  she  is  :  no  doubt  of  it.  They  all 
find  fault  with  her  at  other  times ;  but  every  man  feels,  now, 
that  he  could  die  in  her  defence. 

They  go  up  stairs,  where  they  are  not  expected  so  soon  ; 
for  Mrs.  Todgers  is  asleep,  Miss  Charity  is  adjusting  her 
hair,  and  Mercy,  who  has  made  a  sofa  of  one  of  the  window- 
seats,  is  in  a  gracefully  recumbent  attitude.  She  is  rising 
hastily,  when  Mr.  jinkins  implores  her,  for  all  their  sakes,  not 
to  stir ;  she  looks  too  graceful  and  too  lovely,  he  remarks,  to 
be  disturbed.  She  laughs,  and  yields,  and  fans  herself,  and 
drops  her  fan,  and  there  is  a  rush  to  pick  it  up.  Being  now 
installed,  by  one  consent,  as  the  beauty  of  the  party,  she  is 
cruel  and  capricious,  and  sends  gentlemen  on  messages  to 
other  gentlemen,  and  forgets  all  about  ihem  before  they  can 
return  with  the  answer,  and  invents  a  thousand  tortures,  rend- 
ing their  hearts  to  pieces.  Bailey  brings  up  the  tea  and 
coffee.  There  is  a  small  cluster  of  admirers  round  Charity  ; 
but  they  are  only  those  who  cannot  get  near  her  sister.  'I"he 
youngest  gentleman  in  company  is  pale,  but  collected,  and 
still  sits  apart;  for  his  spirit  loves  to  hold  communion  wilh 
itself,  and  his  soul  recoils  from  noisy  revellers.  She  has  a 
consciousness  of  his  presence  and  adoration.  He  sees  it 
flashing  sometimes  in  the  corner  of  her  eye.  Have  a  care, 
Jinkins,  ere  you  provoke  a  desperate  man  to  frenzy  ! 


lefi  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  followed  his  younger  friends  up  stairs, 
and  taken  a  chair  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Todgers.  He  had  also 
spilt  a  cup  of  coffee  over  his  legs  without  appearing  to  be 
aware  of  the  circumstance  ;  nor  did  he  seem  to  know  that  there 
was  muffin  on  his  knee. 

"  And  how  have  they  used  you  down  stairs,  sir  ?  "  asked 
the  hostess. 

"  Their  conduct  has  been  such,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  "as  I  can  never  think  of  without  emotion,  or 
remember  without  a  tear.     Oh,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

"  My  goodness  !  "  exclaimed  that  lady.  "  How  low  you 
are  in  your  spirits,  sir ! " 

"I  am  a  man,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shed- 
ding tears,  and  speaking  with  an  imperfect  articulation,  "  but 
I  am  also  a  father.  '  I  am  also  a  widower.  My  feelings,  Mrs. 
Todgers,  will  not  consent  to  be  entirely  smothered,  like  the 
young  children  in  the  Tower.  They  are  grown  up,  and  the 
more  I  press  the  bolster  on  them,  the  more  they  look  round 
the  corner  of  it." 

He  suddenly  became  conscious  of  the  bit  of  muffin,  and 
stared  at  it  intently,  shaking  his  head  the  while,  in  a  forlorn 
and  imbecile  manner,  as  if  he  regarded  it  as  his  evil  genius, 
and  mildly  reproached  it. 

"  She  was  beautiful,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  he  said,  turning  his 
glazed  eye  again  upon  her,  without  the  least  preliminary  notice. 
"  She  had  a  small  property." 

"So  I  have  heard,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers  with  great  sympa- 
thy. 

"Those  are  her  daughters,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pomtmg 
out  the  young  ladies,  with  increased  emotion, 

Mrs.  Todgers  had  no  doubt  of  it. 

"  Mercy  and  Charity,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Charity  and 
Mercv.     Not  unholy  names,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  What  a  ghastly 
smile  ?     Are  you  ill,  sir  ?  " 

He  pressed  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  answered  in  a 
solemn  manner,  and  a  faint  voice,  "  Chronic." 

"  Cholic  ?  "  cried  the  frightened  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Chron-ic,"  he  repeated  with  some  difficulty.  "  Chron-ic 
A  chronic  disorder.  I  have  been  its  victim  from  childhood. 
It  is  carrying  me  to  my  grave." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"Yes  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  reckless  with  despair.    "I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


157 


am  rather  glad  of  it,  upon  the  whole.     You  are  like  her,  Mrs. 
Todgers." 

"  Don't  squeeze  me  so  tight,  pray,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  If  any 
of  the  gentlemen  should  notice  us." 

"  For  her  sake,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Permit  me.  In 
honor  of  her  memory.  For  the  sake  of  a  voice  from  the  tomb. 
You  are  very  like  her,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  What  a  world  this 
is!" 

"  Ah  !     Indeed  you  may  say  that ! "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  a  vain  and  thoughtless  world,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  overflowing  with  despondency.  "  These  young 
people  about  us.  Oh  !  what  sense  have  they  of  their  respon- 
sibilities ?     None.     Give  me  your  other  hand,  Mrs.  Todgers." 

That  lady  hesitated,  and  said  "  she  didn't  like." 

"Has  a  voice  from  the  grave  no  mfluence  ?"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  with  dismal  tenderness.  "  This  is  irreligious  !  My 
dear  creature." 

"  Hush  !  "  urged  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  Really  you  mustn't." 

"  It's  not  me,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Don't  suppose  it's 
me  :  it's  the  voice  ;  it's  her  voice." 

Mrs.  Pecksniff  deceased,  must  have  had  an  unusually 
thick  and  husky  voice  for  a  lady,  and  rather  a  stuttering  voice, 
and  to  say  the  truth  somewhat  of  a  drunken  voice,  if  it  had 
ever  borne  much  resemblance  to  that  in  which  Mr.  Pecksniff 
spoke  just  then.     But  perhaps  this  was  delusion  on  his  part. 

"  It  has  been  a  day  of  enjoyment,  Mrs.  Todgers,  but  still 
it  has  been  a  day  of  torture.  It  has  reminded  me  of  my 
loneliness.     What  am  I  in  the  world  1 " 

"  An  excellent  gentleman,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers. 

"There  is  consolation  in  that  too,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Am  I  ?  " 

"There  is  no  better  man  living,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  I 
am  sure." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  smiled  through  his  tears,  and  slightly  shook 
his  head.  "You  are  very  good,"  he  said,  "thank  you.  It  is 
a  great  happiness  to  me,  Mrs.  Todgers,  to  make  young  people 
happy.  The  happiness  of  my  pupils  is  my  chief  object.  I  dote 
upon  'em.     They  dote  upon  me  too.     Sometimes." 

"  Always,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"When  they  say  they  haven't  inproved,  ma'am,"  whispered 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  at  her  with  profound  mystery,  and 
motioning   to    her    to    advance    her  ear  a  little  closer   to    -^is 


158 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


mouth.  "  When  they  say  they  haven't  impro\'ecl,  ma'am,  and 
the  premium  was  too  high,  they  lie  !  I  shouldn't  wish  it  to  be 
mentioned ;  you  will  understand  me  ;  but  I  say  to  you  as  to 
an  old  friend,  they  lie." 

"  Base  wretches  they  must  be  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "you  are  right.  I  respect 
you  for  that  observation.  A  word  in  your  ear.  To  Parents 
and  Guardians.     This  is  in  confidence,  Mrs.  Todgers  ?  " 

"  The  strictest,  of  course  !  "  cried  that  lady. 

"  To  Parents  and  Guardians,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  An  eligible  opportunity  now  offers,  which  unites  the  advan- 
tages of  the  best  practical  architectural  education  with  the 
comforts  of  a  home,  and  the  constant  association  with  some, 
who,  however  humble  their  sphere  and  limited  their  capacity 
— observe  ! — are  not  unmindful  of  their  moral  responsibili- 
ties." 

Mrs.  Todgers  looked  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  this 
might  mean,  as  well  she  might ;  for  it  was,  as  the  reader  may 
perchance  remember,  Mr.  Pecksniff's  usual  form  of  advertise- 
ment when  he  wanted  a  pupil  ;  and  seemed  to  have  no  partic- 
ular reference,  at  present,  to  anything.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff 
held  up  his  finger  as  a  caution  to  her  not  to  interrupt  him. 

"  Do  you  know  any  parent  or  guardian,  Mrs.  Todgers," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "who  desires  to  avail  himself  of  such  an 
opportunity  for  a  young  gentleman  ?  An  orphan  would  be 
preferred.  Do  you  know  of  any  orphan  with  three  or  four 
hundred  pound  ?  " 

Mrs.  Todgers  reflected,  and  shook  her  head. 

"  When  you  hear  of  an  orphan  with  three  or  four  hun- 
dred pound,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  let  that  dear  orphan's 
friends  apply,  by  letter  post-paid,  to  S.  P.,  Post-office,  Salis- 
bury. I  don't  know  who  he  is,  exactly.  Don't  be  alarmed, 
Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  falling  heavily  against  her  : 
"  Chronic — chronic  !  Let's  have  a  little  drop  of  something 
to  drink." 

"  Bless  my  life.  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers, 
aloud,  "  your  dear  pa's  took  very  poorly  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  straightened  himself  by  a  surprising  effort, 
as  every  one  turned  hastily  towards  him  ;  and  standing  on  his 
feet,  regarded  the  assembly  with  a  look  of  ineffable  wisdom. 
Gradually  it  gave  place  to  a  smile  ;  a  feeble,  helpless,  melan- 
choly smile  ;  bland,  almost  to  sickliness.  *'  Do  not  repine, 
my  friends,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tenderly.     "Do  not  weep  for 


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MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  159 

me.  It  is  chronic."  And  with  these  words,  after  making  a 
futile  attempt  to  pull  off  his  shoes,  he  fell  into  the  fire-place. 

The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  had  him  out  in  a 
second.  Yes,  before  a  hair  upon  his  head  was  singed,  he  had 
him  on  the  hearth-rug. — Her  father  ! 

She  was  almost  beside  herself.  So  was  her  sister.  Jin- 
kins  consoled  them  both.  They  all  consoled  them.  Every- 
body had  something  to  say,  except  the  youngest  gentleman  in 
company,  who  with  a  noble  self-devotion  did  the  heavy  w^ork, 
and  held  up  Mr.  Pecksniff's  head  without  being  taken  notice 
of  by  anybody.  At  last  they  gathered  round,  and  agreed  to 
carry  him  up  stairs  to  bed.  The  youngest  gentleman  in  com- 
pany was  rebuked  by  Jinkins  for  tearing  Mr.  Pecksniff's  coat ! 
Ha,  ha  !     Put  no  matter. 

They  carried  him  up  stairs,  and  crushed  the  youngest  gentle- 
man at  every  step.  His  bedroom  was  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  it  was  a  long  way  ;  but  they  got  him  there  in  course  of 
time.  He  asked  them  frequently  on  the  road  for  a  little  drop 
of  something  to  drink.  It  seemed  an  idiosyncrasy.  The 
youngest  gentleman  in  company  proposed  a  draught  of  water, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  called  him  opprobrious  names  for  the  sugges- 
tion. 

Jinkins  and  Gander  took  the  rest  upon  themselves,  and 
made  him  as  comfortable  as  they  could,  on  the  outside  of  his 
bed;  and  when  he  seemed  disposed  to  sleep,  they  left  him. 
But  before  they  had  all  gained  the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  a 
vision  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  strangely  attired,  was  seen  to  flutter 
on  the  top  landing.  He  desired  to  collect  their  sentiments,  it 
seemed,  upon  the  nature  of  human  life. 

"  My  friends,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  over  the  banis- 
ters, "  let  us  improve  our  minds  by  mutual  inquiry  and  discus- 
sion. Let  us  be  moral.  Let  us  contemplate  existence. 
Where  is  Jinkins  ?  " 

"Here,"  cried  that  gentleman.     "Go  to  bed  again  !  " 

"  To  bed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ped  !  'Tis  the  voice 
of  the  sluggard,  I  hear  him  complain,  you  have  woke  me  too 
soon,  I  must  slumber  again.  If  any  young  orphan  will  repeat 
the  remainder  of  that  simple  piece  from  Doctor  Watts's  collec- 
tion an  eligible  opportunity  now  offers." 

Nobody  \-oluntecred. 

"  This  is  very^  soothing,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  pause. 
"  Extremely  so.  Gool  and  refreshing  ;  particularly  to  the  legs  ! 
The   legs  of  the  human   subject,  my  friends,  are   a  beautiful 


i6o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

production.  Compare  them  with  wooden  legs,  and  observe 
the  difference  between  the  anatomy  of  nature  and  the  anatomy 
of  art.  Do  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  leaning  over  the 
banisters,  with  an  odd  recollection  of  his  famihar  manner 
among  new  pupils  at  home,  "that  I  should  very  much  like  to 
see  Mrs.  Todgers's  notion  of  a  wooden  leg,  if  perfectly  agree- 
able to  herself  !  " 

As  it  appeared  impossible  to  entertain  any  reasonable 
hopes  of  him  after  this  speech,  Mr.  Jinkins  and  Mr.  Gander 
went  up  stairs  again,  and  once  more  got  him  into  bed.  But 
they  had  not  descended  to  the  second  floor  before  he  was  out 
again  ;  nor  when  they  had  repeated  the  process,  had  they 
descended  the  first  flight,  before  he  was  out  again.  In  a  word, 
as  often  as  he  was  shut  up  in  his  own  room,  he  darted  out 
afresh,  charged  with  some  new  moral  sentiment,  which  he 
continually  repeated  over  the  banisters,  with  extraordinary 
relish,  and  an  irrepressible  desire  for  the  improvement  of  his 
fellow-creatures  that  nothing  could  subdue. 

Under  these  circumstances,  when  they  had  got  him  into 
bed  for  the  thirtieth  time  or  so,  Mr.  Jinkins  held  him,  while 
his  companion  went  down  stairs  in  search  of  Bailey  junior, 
with  whom  he  presently  returned.  That  youth,  having  been 
apprised  of  the  service  required  of  him,  was  in  great  spirits, 
and  brought  up  a  stool,  a  candle,  and  his  supper  ;  to  the  end 
that  he  might  keep  watch  outside  the  bedroom  door  with  tolera- 
ble comfort. 

When  he  had  completed  his  arrangements,  they  locked  Mr. 
Pecksniff  in,  and  left  the  key  on  the  outside  ;  charging  the 
young  page  to  listen  attentively  for  symptoms  of  an  apoplectic 
nature,  with  which  the  patient  might  be  troubled,  and,  in  case 
of  any  such  presenting  themselves,  to  summon  them  without 
delay.  To  which  Mr.  Bailey  modestly  replied  that  "  he  hoped 
he  knowed  wot  o'clock  it  wos  in  gineral,  and  didn't  date  his 
letters  to  his  friends,  from  Todgers's,  for  nothing." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  i6i 


CHAPTER  X, 

CONTAINING  STRANGE  MATTER  ;  ON  WHICH  MANY  EVENTS  IN 
THIS  HISTORY  MAY,  FOR  THEIR  GOOD  OR  EVIL  INFLUENCE, 
CHIEFLY    DEPEND. 

But  Mr.  Pecksniff  came  to  town  on  business.  Had  he 
forgotten  that  ?  Was  he  always  taking  his  pleasure  with 
Todgers's  jovial  brood,  unmindful  of  the  serious  demands, 
whatever  they  might  be,  upon  his  calm  consideration  ?     No. 

Time  and  tide^will  wait  for  no  man,  saith  the  adage.  But 
all  men  have  to  wait  for  time  and  tide.  That  tide  which, 
taken  at  the  flood,  would  lead  Seth  Pecksniff  on  to  fortune, 
was  marked  down  in  the  table,  and  about  to  flow.  No  idle 
Pecksniff  lingered  far  inland,  unmindful  of  the  changes  of  the 
stream  ;  but  there,  upon  the  water's  edge,  over  his  shoes  al- 
ready, stood  the  worthy  creature,  prepared  to  wallow  in  the 
very  mud,  so  that  it  slid  towards  the  quarter  of  his  hope. 

The  trustfulness  of  his  two  fair  daughters  was  beautiful 
indeed.  They  had  that  firm  reliance  on  their  parent's  nature, 
which  taught  them  to  feel  certain  that  in  all  he  did,  he  had 
his  purpose  straight  and  full  before  him.  And  that  its  noble 
end  and  object  was  himself,  which  almost  of  necessity  in- 
cluded them,  they  knew.  The  devotion  of  these  maids  was 
perfect. 

Their  filial  confidence  was  rendered  the  more  touching,  by 
their  having  no  knowledge  of  their  parent's  real  designs,  in 
the  present  instance.  All  that  they  knew  of  his  proceedings, 
was,  that  every  morning,  after  the  early  breakfast,  he  repaired 
to  the  post-ofhce  and  inquired  for  letters.  That  task  performed, 
his  business  for  the  day  was  over  ;  and  he  again  relaxed,  vmtil 
the  rising  of  another  sun  proclaimed  the  advent  of  another 
post. 

This  went  on,  for  four  or  five  days.  At  length,  one  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  with  a  breathless  rapidity,  strange 
to  observe  in  him,  at  other  times  so  calm  ;  and,  seeking  im- 
mediate speech  with  his  daughters,  shut  himself  up  with  them 
in  private  conference,  for  two  whole  hours.  Of  all  that  passed 
in  this  period,  only  the  following  words  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
utterance  are  known.  1 1 


1 62  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  How  he  has  come  to  change  so  very  much  (if  it  should 
turn  out  as  I  expect,  that  he  has),  we  needn't  stop  to  inquire. 
My  dears,  I  have  my  thoughts  upon  the  subject,  but  I  will  not 
impart  them.  It  is  enough  that  we  vnll  not  be  proud,  resent- 
ful, or  unforgiving.  If  he  wants  our  friendship,  he  shall  have 
it.     We  know  our  duty,  I  hope  !  " 

That  same  day  at  noon,  an  old  gentleman  alighted  from 
a  hackney-coach  at  the  post-office,  and,  giving  his  name,  in- 
quired for  a  letter  addressed  to  himself,  and  directed  to  be  left 
till  called  for.  It  had  been  lying  there  some  days.  The 
superscription  was  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  hand,  and  it  was  sealed 
with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  seal. 

It  was  very  short,  containing  indeed  nothing  more  than  an 
address  "  with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  respectful,  and  (notwithstanding 
what  has  passed)  sincerely  affectionate  regards."  The  old 
gentleman  tore  off  the  direction — scattering  the  rest  in  frag- 
ments to  the  winds — and  giving  it  to  the  coachman,  bade  him 
drive  as  near  that  place  as  he  could.  In  pursuance  of  these 
instructions  he  was  driven  to  the  Monument ;  where  he  again 
alighted,  and  dismissed  the  vehicle,  and  walked  towards  Tod- 
gers's. 

Though  the  face  and  form,  and  gait  of  this  old  man,  and 
even  his  grip  of  the  stout  stick  on  which  he  leaned,  were  all 
expressive  of  a  resolution  not  easily  shaken,  and  a  purpose  (it 
matters  little  whether  right  or  wrong,  just  now)  such  as  in 
other  days  might  have  survived  the  rack,  and  had  its  strong- 
est life  m  weakest  death  ;  still  there  were  grains  of  hesitation 
in  his  mind,  which  made  him  now  avoid  the  house  he  sought, 
and  loiter  to  and  fro  in  a  gleam  of  sunlight,  that  brightened 
the  little  churchyard  hard  by.  There  may  have  been,  in  the 
presence  of  those  idle  heaps  of  dust  among  the  busiest  stir 
of  life,  something  to  increase  his  wavering  ;  but  there  he 
walked,  awakening  the  echoes  as  he  paced  up  and  down,  until 
the  church  clock,  striking  the  quarters  for  the  second  time 
since  he  had  been  there,  roused  him  from  his  meditation. 
Shaking  off  his  incertitude  as  the  air  parted  with  the  sound  of 
the  bells,  he  walked  rapidly  to  the  house,  and  knocked  at  the 
door. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  seated  in  the  landlady's  little  room,  and 
his  visitor  found  him  reading — by  an  accident ;  he  apologized 
for  it — an  excellent  theological  work.  There  were  cake  and 
wine  upon  a  little  table— by  another  accident,  for  which  he 
also  apologized.     Indeed  he  said,  he  had  given  his  visitor  up, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLElVfT. 


163 


and  was  about  to  partake  of  that  simple  refreshment  with  his 
children,  when  he  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Your  daughters  are  well  ?  "  said  old  Martin,  laying  down 
his  hat  and  stick. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  endeavored  to  conceal  his  agitation  as  a 
father,  when  he  answered.  Yes,  they  were.  They  were  good 
girls,  he  said,  very  good.  He  would  not  venture  to  recom- 
mend Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  take  the  easy-chair,  or  to  keep  out  of 
the  draught  from  the  door.  If  he  made  any  such  suggestion, 
he  would  expose  himself,  he  feared,  to  most  unjust  suspicion. 
He  would,  therefore,  content  himself  with  remarking  that 
there  was  an  easy-chair  in  the  room  ;  and  that  the  door  was 
far  from  being  air-tight.  This  latter  imperfection,  he  might 
perhaps  venture  to  add,  was  not  uncommonly  to  be  met  with 
in  old  houses. 

The  old  man  sat  down  in  the  easy-chair,  and  after  a  few 
moments'  silence,  said : 

"  In  the  first  place,  let  me  thank  you  for  coming  to  London 
so  promptly,  at  my  almost  unexplained  request ;  I  need 
scarcely  add,  at  my  cost." 

"  At  your  cost,  my  good  sir !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a 
tone  of  great  surprise. 

"  It  is  not,'"  said  Martin,  waving  his  hand  impatiently, 
"  my  habit  to  put  my — well  !  my  relatives — to  any  personal 
expense  to  gratify  my  caprices." 

"  Caprices,  my  good  sir!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  That  IS  scarcely  the  proper  word  either,  in  this  instance," 
said  the  old  man.     "  No.     You  are  right." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  inwardly  very  much  relieved  to  hear  it, 
though  he  didn't  at  all  know  why. 

"  You  are  right,"  repeated  Martin.  "  It  is  not  a  caprice. 
It  is  built  up  on  reason,  proof,  and  cool  comparison.  Ca- 
prices never  are.  Moreover,  I  am  not  a  capricious  man.  I 
never  was." 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  returned  the  other  quickly.  "  You 
are  to  begin  to  know  it  now.  You  are  to  test  and  prove  it,  in 
time  to  come.  You  and  yours  are  to  find  that  I  can  be  con- 
stant, and  am  not  to  be  diverted  from  my  end.  Do  you 
hear  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  very  much  regret,"  Martin  resumed,  looking  steadily 
at  him,  and  speaking  in  a  slow  and  measured  tone  ;  "  I  very 


164  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

much  regret  that  you  and  I  held  such  a  conversation  together, 
as  that  which  passed  between  us,  at  our  last  meeting.  I 
very  much  regret  that  I  laid  open  to  you  what  were  then  my 
thoughts  of  you,  so  freely  as  I  did.  The  intentions  that  I 
bear  towards  you,  now,  are  of  another  kind ;  deserted  by  all 
in  whom  I  have  ever  trusted  ;  hoodwinked  and  beset  by  all 
who  should  help  and  sustain  me  ;  I  fly  to  you  for  refuge.  I 
confide  in  you  to  be  my  ally ;  to  attach  yourself  to  me  by  ties 
of  Interest  and  Expectation  ;  "  he  laid  great  stress  upon  these 
words,  though  Mr.  Pecksniff  particularly  begged  him  not  to 
mention  it ;  "  and  to  help  me  to  visit  the  consequences  of  the 
very  worst  species  of  meanness,  dissimulation,  and  subtlety, 
on  the  right  heads." 

"  My  noble  sir ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  catching  at  his 
outstretched  hand.  "  And  you  regret  the  having  harbored 
unjust  thoughts  of  me  !  you  with  those  gray  hairs  !  " 

"  Regrets,"  said  Martin,  "  are  the  natural  property  of  gray 
hairs  ;  and  I  enjoy,  in  common  with  all  other  men,  at  least 
my  share  of  such  inheritance.  And  so  enough  of  that.  I 
regret  having  been  severed  from  you  so  long.  If  I  had  known 
you  sooner,  and  sooner  used  you  as  you  well  deserve,  I  might 
have  been  a  happier  man." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  clasped  his 
hands  in  rapture. 

"  Your  daughters,"  said  Martin,  after  a  short  silence.  "  I 
don't  know  them.     Are  they  like  you  .-*  " 

"  In  the  nose  of  my  eldest  and  the  chin  of  my  youngest, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  returned  the  widower,  "  their  sainted  parent 
(not  myself,  their  mother)  lives  again." 

"  I  don't  mean  in  person,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Morally, 
morally." 

"'  'Tis  not  for  me  to  say,"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a 
gentle  smile.     "  I  have  done  my  best,  sir." 

"  I  could  wish  to  see  them,"  said  Martin  ;  "are  they  near 
at  hand  ?  " 

They  were  ver}^  near  ;  for  they  had  in  fact  been  listening 
at  the  door  from  the  beginning  of  this  conversation  until  now, 
when  they  precipitately  retired.  Having  wiped  the  signs  of 
weakness  from  his  eyes,  and  so  given  them  time  to  get  up 
stairs,  Mr.  Pecksniff  opened  he  door,  and  mildly  cried  in  the 
passage, 

"  My  own  darlings,  where  are  you  ?  " 

*'  Here,  my  dear  pa  !  "  replied  the  distant  voice  of  Charity. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  165 

*'  Come  clown  into  the  back  parlor,  if  you  please,  my 
love,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  and  bring  your  sister  with  you." 

"Yes,  my  dear  pa,"  cried  Merry;  and  down  they  came 
directly  (being  all  obedience),  singing  as  they  came. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  astonishment  of  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs  when  they  found  a  stranger  with  their  dear  papa. 
Nothing  could  surpass  their  mute  amazement  when  he  said, 
"  My  children,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ! "  But  when  he  told  them 
that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and  he  were  friends,  and  that  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit  had  said  such  kind  and  tender  words  as  pierced 
his  very  heart,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  cried  with  one  accord, 
"  Thank  Heaven  for  this  !  "  and  fell  upon  the  old  man's  neck. 
And  when  they  had  embraced  him  with  such  fervor  of  affec- 
tion that  no  words  can  describe  it,  they  grouped  themselves 
about  his  chair,  arid  hung  over  him  ;  as  figuring  to  themselves 
no  earthly  joy  like  that  of  ministering  to  his  wants,  and 
crowding  into  the  remainder  of  his  life,  the  love  they  would 
have  diffused  over  their  whole  existence,  from  infancy,  if  he — • 
dear  obdurate ! — had  but  consented  to  receive  the  precious 
offering. 

The  old  man  looked  attentively  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
then  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  several  times. 

"  What,"  he  asked  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  happening  to  catch 
his  eye  in  its  descent,  for  until  now  it  had  been  piously 
upraised,  with  something  of  that  expression  which  the  poetry 
of  ages  has  ^.ttributed  to  a  domestic  bird,  when  breathing  its 
last  amid  the  ravages  of  an  electric  storm — "  What  are  their 
names  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  told  him,  and  added,  rather  hastily;  his  ca- 
lumniators would  have  said,  with  a  view  to  any  testamentary 
thoughts  that  might  be  flitting  through  old  Martin's  mind  ; 
"  Perhaps,  my  dears,  you  had  better  write  them  down.  Your 
humble  autographs  are  of  no  value  in  themselves,  but  affec- 
tion may  prize  them." 

"  Affection,"  said  the  old  man,  "  will  expend  itself  on  the 
living  originals.  Do  not  trouble  yourselves,  my  girls,  I  shall 
not  so  easily  forget  vou.  Charity  and  Mercy,  as  to  need  such 
tokens  of  remembrance.     Cousin  !  " 

"  Sir !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  alacrity. 

"  Do  you  never  sit  down  ?  " 

"Why,  yes;  occasionally,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who 
had  been  standing  all  this  time. 

"  Will  you  do  so  now  ?  " 


1 66  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Can  you  ask  me,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff,  slipping  into 
a  chair  immediately,  "  whether  I  will  do  anything  that  you 
desire  ?  " 

"  You  talk  confidently,"  said  Martin,  "  and  you  mean  well  ; 
but  I  fear  you  don't  know  what  an  old  man's  humors  are. 
You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  required  to  court  his  likings 
and  dislikings  ;  to  adapt  yourself  to  his  prejudices ;  to  do  his 
bidding,  be  it  what  it  may  ;  to  bear  with  his  distrusts  and  jeal- 
ousies ;  and  always  still  be  zealous  in  his  service.  When  I 
remember  how  numerous  these  failings  are  in  me,  and  judge  of 
their  occasional  enormity  by  the  injurious  thoughts  I  lately 
entertained  of  you,  I  hardly  dare  to  claim  you  for  my  friend." 

"  My  worthy  sir,"  returned  his  relative,  "how  can  you  talk 
in  such  a  painful  strain  !  What  was  more  natural  than  that 
you  should  make  one  slight  mistake,  when  in  all  other  re- 
spects you  were  so  very  correct,  and  have  had  such  reason, 
such  very  sad  and  undeniable  reason,  to  judge  of  ever^'  one 
about  you  in  the  worst  light !  " 

"  True,"  replied  the  other.  "  You  are  very  lenient  with 
me." 

"  We  always  said,  my  girls  and  I,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff 
with  increasing  obsequiousness,  "  that  while  we  mourned  the 
heaviness  of  our  misfortune  in  being  confounded  with  the  base 
and  mercenary',  still  we  could  not  wonder  at  it.  My  dears, 
you  remember.'' " 

Oh  vividly  !     A  thousand  times  ! 

"  We  uttered  no  complaint,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Occa- 
sionally we  had  the  presumption  to  console  ourselves  with  the 
remark  that  Truth  would  in  the  end  prevail,  and  Virtue  be 
triumphant ;  but  not  often.     My  loves,  you  recollect  ?  " 

Recollect !  Could  he  doubt  it  ?  Dearest  pa,  what  strange 
unnecessary  questions  ! 

"And  when  I  saw  you,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  still 
greater  deference,  "  in  the  little,  unassuming  village  where  we 
take  the  liberty  of  dwelling,  I  said  you  were  mistaken  in  me, 
my  dear  sir :  that  was  all,  I  think  ?  " 

"No,  not  all,"  said  Martin,  who  had  been  sitting  with  his 
hand  upon  his  brow  for  some  time  past,  and  now  looked  up 
again  :  "  you  said  much  more,  which,  added  to  other  circum- 
stances that  have  come  to  my  knowledge,  opened  my  eyes. 
You  spoke  to  me,  disinterestedly,  on  behalf  of — I  needn't 
name  him.     You  know  whom  I  mean." 

Trouble  was  expressed  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  visage,  as  he 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  167 

pressed  his  hot  hands  together,  and  repUed,  with  humility, 
"Quite  disinterestedly,  sir,  I  assure  j^ou." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  old  Martin,  in  his  quiet  way.  "  I  am 
sure  of  it.  I  said  so.  It  was  disinterested  too,  in  you,  to 
draw  that  herd  of  harpies  off  from  me,  and  be  their  victim 
yourself  ;  most  other  men  would  have  suffered  them  to  display 
themselves  in  all  their  rapacity,  and  would  have  striven  to 
rise,  by  contrast,  in  my  estimation.  You  felt  for  me,  and  drew 
them  off,  for  which  I  owe  you  many  thanks.  Although  I  left 
the  place,  I  know  what  passed  behind  my  back,  you  see  !  " 

"  You  amaze  me,  sir !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  which  was 
true  enough. 

"  My  knowledge  of  your  proceedings,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  does  not  stop  at  this.  You  have  a  new  inmate  in  your 
house." 

"Yes,  sir,"  rejoined  the  architect,  "  I  have." 

"  He  must  quit  it,"  said  Martin. 

"  For — for  yours  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  quiver- 
ing mildness. 

"For  any  shelter  he  can  find,"  the  old  man  answered. 
"  He  has  deceived  you." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  eagerly.  "  I  trust  not. 
I  have  been  extremely  well  disposed  towards  that  young  man. 
I  hope  it  cannot  be  shown  that  he  has  forfeited  all  claim  to 
my  protection.  Deceit,  deceit,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  would 
be  final.  I  should  hold  myself  bound,  on  proof  of  deceit,  to 
renounce  him  instantly:" 

The  old  man  glanced  at  both  his  fair  supporters,  but  espec- 
ially at  Miss  Mercy,  whom,  indeed,  he  looked  full  in  the  face, 
with  a  greater  demonstration  of  interest  than  had  yet  appeared 
in  his  features.  His  gaze  again  encountered  Mr.  Pecksniff", 
as  he  said,  composedly : 

"  Of  course  you  know  that  he  has  made  his  matrimonial 
choice  ? " 

"  Oh  dear!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  rubbing  his  hair  up  very 
stiff  upon  his  head,  and  staring  wildly  at  his  daughters.  "  This 
is  becoming  tremendous  !  " 

"  You  know  the  fact  ?  "  repeated  Martin. 

"  Surely  not  without  his  grandfather's  consent  and  appro- 
bation, my  dear  sir  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  T3on't  tell  me 
that.  For  the  honor  of  human  nature,  say  you're  not  about 
to  tell  me  that !  " 

"  I  thought  he  had  suppressed  it,"  said  the  old  man. 


I  OS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  indignation  felt  by  Mr.  Pecksniff  at  this  terrible  dis- 
closure, was  only  to  be  equalled  by  the  kindling  anger  of  his 
daughters.  What  !  Had  they  taken  to  their  hearth  and  home 
a  secretly  contracted  serpent ;  a  crocodile,  who  had  made  a 
furtive  offer  of  his  hand;  an  imposition  on  society;  a  bank- 
rupt bachelor  with  no  effects,  trading  with  the  spinster  world 
on  false  pretences  !  And  oh,  to  think  that  he  sliould  have 
disobeyed  and  practised  on  that  sweet,  that  venerable  gentle- 
man, whose  name  he  bore  ;  that  kind  and  tender  guardian ; 
his  more  than  father  (to  say  nothing  at  all  of  mother),  horri- 
ble, horrible  !  To  turn  him  out  with  ignominy  would  be  treat- 
ment, much  too  good.  Was  there  nothing  else  that  could  be 
done  to  him?  Had  he  incurred  no  legal  pains  and  penalties? 
Could  it  be  that  the  statutes  of  the  land  were  so  remiss  as  to 
have  affixed  no  punishment  to  such  delinquency  ?  Monster  ; 
how  basely  had  they  been  deceived  ! 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  second  me  so  warmly,"  said  the 
old  man,  holding  up  his  hand  to  stay  the  torrent  of  their 
wrath.  "  I  will  not  deny  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  find 
you  so  full  of  zeal.  We  will  consider  that  topic  as  disposed 
of." 

"No,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  Mr.  PecksniiT,  "not  as  disposed 
of,  until  I  have  purged  my  house  of  this  pollution." 

"That  will  follow,"  said  the  old  man,  "in  its  own  time.  I 
look  upon  that  as  done." 

"  You  are  ver}^  good,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shak- 
ing his  hand.  "  You  do  me  honor.  You  may  look  upon  it  as 
done,  I  assure  you." 

"  There  is  another  topic,"  said  Martin,  "on  which  I  hope 
you  will  assist  me.     You  remember  Mary,  cousin  ? " 

"  The  young  lady  that  I  mentioned  to  you,  my  dears,  as  hav- 
ing interested  me  so  very  much,"  remarked  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Excuse  my  interrupting  you,  sir." 

"I  told  you  her  history,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Which  I  also  mentioned,  you  will  recollect,  my  dears," 
cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Silly  girls,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Quite 
moved  by  it,  they  were  !  " 

"  Why  look  now !  "  said  Martin,  evidently  pleased  :  "  I 
feared  I  should  have  had  to  urge  her  case  upon  you,  and  ask 
you  to  regard  her  favorably  for  my  sake.  But  I  find  you  have 
no  jealousies  !  Well  !  You  have  no  cause  for  any,  to  be 
sure.  She  has  nothing  to  gain  from  me,  my  dears,  and  she 
knows  it." 


, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  169 

The  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  murmured  their  approval  of  this 
wise  arrangement,  and  their  cordial  sympathy  with  its  inter- 
esting object. 

"  If  I  could  have  anticipated  what  has  come  to  pass  be- 
tween us  four,"  said  the  old  man,  thoughtfully :  "  but  it  is  too 
late  to  think  of  that.  You  would  receive  her  courteously, 
young  ladies,  and  be  kind  to  her,  if  need  were  ?  " 

Where  was  the  orphan  whom  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs 
would  not  have  cherished  in  their  sisterly  bosom  !  But  when 
that  orphan  was  commended  to  their  care  by  one  on  whom 
the  dammed-up  love  of  years  was  gushing  forth,  what  exhaust- 
less  stores  of  pure  affection  yearned  to  expend  themselves 
upon  her  ! 

An  interval  ensued,  during  which  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  in  an 
absent  frame  of  fnind,  sat  gazing  at  the  ground,  without  utter- 
ing a  word  ;  and  as  it  was  plain  that  he  had  no  desire  to  be 
interrupted  in  his  meditations,  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  daugh- 
ters were  profoundly  silent  also.  During  the  whole  of  the 
foregoing  dialogue,  he  had  borne  his  part  with  a  cold,  pas- 
sionless  promptitude,  as  though  he  had  learned  and  painfully 
rehearsed  it  all,  a  hundred  times.  Even  when  his  expressions 
were  warmest  and  his  language  most  encouraging,  he  had 
retained  the  same  manner,  without  the  least  abatement.  But 
now  there  was  a  keener  brightness  in  his  eye,  and  more  ex- 
pression in  his  voice,  as  he  said,  awakening  from  his  thought- 
ful mood : 

"  You  know  what  will  be  said  of  this  t  Have  you  re- 
flected .?  " 

"  Said  of  what,  my  dear  sir  .''  "   Mr.  Pecksniff  asked. 

"  Of  this  new  understanding  between  us." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  benevolently  sagacious,  and  at  the 
same  time  far  above  all  earthly  misconstruction,  as  he  shook 
his  head,  and  observed  that  a  great  many  things  would  be 
said  of  it,  no  doubt. 

"A  great  many,"  rejoined  the  old  man.  "Some  will  say 
that  I  dote  in  my  old  age  ;  that  illness  has  shaken  me  ;  that 
I  have  lost  all  strength  of  mind  ;  and  have  grown  childish. 
You  can  bear  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff'  answered  that  it  would  be  dreadfully  hard 
to 'bear,  but  he  thought  he  could,  if  he  made  a  great  effort. 

"  Others  will  say — I  speak  of  disappointed,  angry  people 
only — that  you  have  lied,  and  fawned,  and  wormed  yourself 
through  dirty  ways  into  my  favor  ;  by  such  concessions  and 


170 


MA  J?  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


such  crooked  deeds,  such  meannesses  and  vile  endurances,  as 
nothing  could  repay :  no,  not  the  legacy  of  half  the  world 
we  live  in.     You  can  bear  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  reply  that  this  would  be  also  very 
hard  to  bear,  as  reflecting,  in  some  degree,  on  the  discern- 
ment of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Still  he  had  a  modest  confidence 
that  he  could  sustain  the  calumny,  with  the  help  of  a  good 
conscience,  and  that  gentleman's  friendship. 

"  With  the  great  mass  of  slanderers,"  said  old  Martin, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  "  the  tale,  as  I  clearly  foresee, 
will  run  thus :  That  to  mark  my  contempt  for  the  rabble 
whom  I  despised,  I  chose  from  among  them  the  very  worst, 
and  made  him  do  my  will,  and  pampered  and  enriched  him 
at  the  cost  of  all  the  rest.  That,  after  casting  about  for  the 
means  of  a  punishment  which  should  rankle  in  the  bosoms 
of  these  kites  the  most,  and  strike  into  their  gall,  I  devised 
this  scheme  at  a  time  when  the  last  link  in  the  chain  of 
grateful  love  and  duty,  that  held  me  to  my  race,  was  roughly 
snapped  asunder ;  roughly,  for  I  loved  him  well  ;  roughly, 
for  I  had  ever  put  my  trust  in  his  affection  ;  roughly,  for 
that  he  broke  it  when  I  loved  him  most,  God  help  me !  and 
he  without  a  pang  could  throw  me  off,  while  I  clung  about  his 
heart !  Now,"  said  the  old  man,  dismissing  this  passionate 
outburst,  as  suddenly  as  he  had  yielded  to  it,  "  is  your  mind 
made  up  to  bear  this  likewise }  Lay  your  account  with  hav- 
ing it  to  bear,  and  put  no  trust  in  being  set  right  by  me." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  cried  Pecksniff  in  an  ecstasy, 
"  for  such  a  man  as  you  ha\'e  shown  yourself  to  be  this  day  ; 
for  a  man  so  injured,  yet  so  very  humane  ;  for  a  man  so — I 
am  at  a  loss  what  precise  term  to  use — yet  at  the  same  time 
so  remarkably — I  don't  know  how  to  express  my  meaning  : 
for  such  a  man  as  I  have  described,  I  hope  it  is  no  presump- 
tion to  say  that  I,  and  I  am  sure  I  may  add  my  children  also 
(my  dears,  we  perfectly  agree  in  this,  I  think  ?),  would  bear 
anything  whatever !  " 

"  Enough,"  said  Martin.  "  You  can  charge  no  conse- 
quences on  me.     When  do  you  return  home  ?  " 

"  Whenever  you  please,  my  dear  sir.  To-night  if  you 
desire  it." 

"  I  desire  nothing,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  that  is  un- 
reasonable. Such  a  request  would  be.  Will  you  be  ready  to 
return  at  the  end  of  this  week  ?  " 

The  very  time  of  all  others  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have 


MARTIN  CITUZZLEWIT.  171 

su2:2;ested  if  it  had  been  left  to  him  to  make  his  own  choice. 
As  to  his  daughters,  the  words,  "  Let  us  be  at  home  on  Satur- 
day, dear  pa,"  were  actually  upon  their  lips. 

"Your  expenses,  cousin,"  said  Martin,  taking  a  folded 
slip  of  paper  from  his  pocket-book,  "  may  possibly  exceed 
that  amount.  If  so,  let  me  know  the  balance  that  I  owe  you, 
when  we  next  meet.  It  would  be  useless  if  I  told  you  where 
I  live  just  now  :  indeed,  I  have  no  fixed  abode.  When  I 
have,  you  shall  know  it.  You  and  your  daughters  may  expect 
to  see  me  before  long :  in  the  meantime  I  need  not  tell  you, 
that  we  keep  our  own  confidence.  What  you  will  do  when 
you  get  home,  is  understood  between  us.  Give  me  no  ac- 
count of  it  at  any  time  ;  and  never  refer  to  it  in  any  way.  I 
ask  that  as  a  favor.  I  am  commonly  a  man  of  few  words, 
cousin  ;  and  all  fliat  need  be  said  just  now  is  said,  I  think." 

"  One  glass  of  wine,  one  morsel  of  this  homely  cake .''  " 
cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  venturing  to  detain  him.     "  My  dears  !" 

The  sisters  fiew  to  wait  upon  him. 

"  Poor  girls  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  You  will  excuse 
their  agitation,  my  dear  sir.  They  are  made  up  of  feeling. 
A  bad  commodity  to  go  through  the  world  with,  Air.  Chuzzle- 
wit  I  My  youngest  daughter  is  almost  as  much  of  a  woman 
as  my  eldest,  is  she  not,  sir  ? " 

"  Which  is  the  youngest .-'  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"Mercy,  by  five  years,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "We  some- 
times venture  to  consider  her  rather  a  fine  figure,  sir.  Speak- 
ing as  an  artist,  I  may  perhaps  be  ]:)ermitted  to  suggest,  that 
its  outline  is  graceful  and  correct.  1  am  naturally,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  drying  his  hands  upon  his  handkerchief,  and  look- 
ing anxiously  in  his  cousin's  face  at  almost  every  word, 
"  proud,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  to  have  a  daughter  who 
is  constructed  on  the  best  models." 

"  She  seems  to  have  a  lively  disposition,"  observed 
Martin. 

"  Dear  me  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "That  is  quite  remark- 
able. You  have  defined  her  character,  my  dear  sir,  as  cor- 
rectly as  if  you  had  known  her  from  her  birth.  She  has  a 
lively  disposition.  I  assure  you,  my  dear  sir,  that  in  our  un- 
pretending home,  her  gayety  is  delightful." 

"  No  doubt,"  returned  the  old  man. 

"  Charity,  upon  the  other  hand,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is 
remarkable  for  strong  sense,  and  for  rather  a  deep  tone  of 
sentiment,  if  the  partiality  of  a  father  may  be  excused  in  say- 


172 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ing  so.  A  wonderful  affection  between  them,  my  dear  sir ! 
Allow  me  to  drink  your  health.     Bless  you !  " 

"  I  little  thought,"  retorted  Martin,  "but  a  month  ago,  that 
I  should  be  breaking  bread  and  pouring  wine  with  you.  I 
drink  to  you." 

Not  at  all  abashed  by  the  extraordinary  abruptness  with 
which  these  latter  words  were  spoken,  Mr.  Pecksniff  thanked 
him  devoutly. 

"  Now  let  me  go,"  said  Martin,  putting  down  the  wine 
when  he  had  merely  touched  it  with  his  lips.  "  My  dears, 
good  morning  !  " 

But  this  distant  form  of  farewell  was  by  no  means  tender 
enough  for  the  yearnings  of  the  young  ladies,  who  again  em- 
braced him  with  all  their  hearts — with  all  their  arms  at  any 
rate — to  which  parting  caresses  their  new-found  friend  sub- 
mitted with  a  better  grace  than  might  have  been  expected 
from  one  who,  not  a  moment  before,  had  pledged  their  parent 
in  such  a  ver}^  uncomfortable  manner.  These  endearments 
terminated,  he  took  a  hasty  leave  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  with- 
drew, followed  to  the  door  by  both  father  and  daughters,  who 
stood  there,  kissing  their  hands,  and  beaming  with  affection 
until  he  disappeared  :  though,  by  the  way,  he  never  once 
looked  back,  after  he  had  crossed  the  threshold. 

When  they  returned  into  the  house,  and  were  again  alone 
in  Mrs.  Todgers's  room,  the  two  young  ladies  exhibited  an  un- 
usual amount  of  gayety ;  insomuch  that  they  clapped  their 
hands,  and  laughed,  and  looked  with  roguish  aspects  and  a 
bantering  air  upon  their  dear  papa.  This  conduct  was  so  very 
unaccountable,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  (being  singularly  grave 
himself)  could  scarcely  choose  but  ask  them  what  it  meant  ; 
and  took  them  to  task,  in  his  gentle  manner,  for  yielding  to 
such  light  emotions. 

"  If  it  was  possible  to  divine  any  cause  for  this  merriment, 
even  the  most  remote,"  he  said,  "  I  should  not  reprove  you. 
But  when  you  can  have  none  whatever — oh,  really,  really  !  " 

This  admonition  had  so  little  effect  on  Mercy,  that  she 
was  obliged  to  hold  her  handkerchief  before  her  rosy  lips,  and 
to  throw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  with  eveiy  demonstration 
of  extreme  amusement ;  which  want  of  duty  so  offended  Mr. 
Pecksniff  that  he  reproved  her  in  set  terms,  and  gave  her  his 
parental  advice  to  correct  herself  in  solitude  and  contempla- 
tion. But  at  that  juncture  they  were  disturbed  by  the  sound 
of  voices  in  dispute  ;  and  as  it  proceeded  from  the  next  room, 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 7  3 

the  subject  matter  of  the  altercation  quickly  reached  their 
ears. 

"  I  don't  care  that  !  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  the  young  gen- 
tleman who  had  been  the  youngest  gentleman  in  company  on 
the  day  of  the  festival ;  "  I  don't  care  that,  ma'am,"  said  he, 
snapping  his  fingers,  "  for  Jinkins.     Don't  suppose  I  do." 

"  I  am  quite  certain  you  don't,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Todgers. 
"  You  have  too  independent  a  spirit,  I  know,  to  yield  to  any 
body.  And  quite  right.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
give  way  to  any  gentleman.  Everybody  must  be  well  aware 
of  that." 

"  I  should  think  no  inore  of  admitting  daylight  into  the 
fellow,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  in  a  desperate  voice, 
"  than  if  he  was. a  bull-dog." 

Mrs.  Todgers  did  not  stop  to  inquire  whether,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  principle,  there  was  any  particular  reason  for  admitting 
daylight  even  into  a  bull-dog,  otherwise  than  by  the  natural 
channel  of  his  eyes  :  but  she  seemed  to  wring  her  hands, 
and  she  moaned. 

"  Let  him  be  careful,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman.  "  I 
give  him  warning.  No  man  shall  step  between  me  and  the 
current  of  my  vengeance.  I  know  a  Cove — "  he  used  that 
familiar  epithet  in  his  agitation,  but  corrected  himself,  by 
adding,  "  a  gentleman  of  property,  I  mean — who  practises 
with  a  pair  of  pistols  (fellows  too)  of  his  own.  If  I  am  driven 
to  borrow  'em,  and  to  send  a  friend  to  Jinkins,  a  tragedy  will 
get  into  the  papers.     That's  all." 

Again  Mrs.  Todgers  moaned. 

"  I  have  borne  this  long  enough,"  said  the  yo  ingest  gen- 
tleman, "  but  now  my  soul  rebels  against  it,  and  1  won't  stand 
it  any  longer.  I  left  home  originally,  because  I  had  that 
within  me  which  wouldn't  be  domineered  over  by  a  sister  ; 
and  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  be  put  down  by  him  ?     No." 

"  It  is  very  wrong  in  Mr.  Jinkins  :  I  know  it  is  perfectly 
inexcusable  in  Mr.  Jinkins,  if  he  intends  it,"  observed  Mrs. 
Todgers. 

"  If  he  intends  it !  "  cried  the  youngest  gentleman.  "  Don't 
he  interrupt  and  contradict  me  on  every  occasion  ?  Does  he 
ever  fail  to  interpose  himself  between  me  and  an3'tiiing  or 
anybody  that  he  sees  I  have  set  my  mind  upon  .''  Does  he 
make  a  point  of  always  pretending  to  forget  me,  when  he's 
pouring  out  the  beer  ?  Does  he  make  bragging  remarks  about 
his  razors,  and  insulting  allusions  to  people  who  have  no  ne- 


174 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


cessity  to  shave  more  than  once  a  week  ?  But  let  him  look 
out !  He'll  find  himself  shaved,  pretty  close,  before  long,  and 
so  1  tell  him." 

The  young  gentleman  was  mistaken  in  this  closing  sen- 
tence, inasmuch  as  he  never  told  it  to  Jinkins,  but  always  to 
Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  However,"  he  said,  "  these  are  not  proper  subjects  for 
ladies'  ears.  All  I've  got  to  say  to  you,  Mrs.  Todgers,  is,  a 
week's  notice  from  next  Saturday.  The  same  house  can't 
contain  that  miscreant  and  me  any  longer.  If  we  get  over 
the  intermediate  time  without  bloodshed,  you  may  think  your- 
self pretty  fortunate.     I  don't  myself  expect  we  shall." 

"  Dear,  dear  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  what  would  I  have 
given  to  have  prevented  this .-'  To  lose  you,  sir,  would  be  like 
losing  the  house's  right-hand.  So  popular  as  you  are  among 
the  gentlemen ;  so  generally  looked  up  to ;  and  so  much 
liked  !  I  do  hope  you'll  think  better  of  it ;  if  on  nobody  else's 
account,  on  mine." 

"There's  Jinkins,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  moodily. 
"Your  favorite.  He'll  console  you,  and  the  gentlemen  too, 
for  the  loss  of  twenty  such  as  me.  I'm  not  understood  in  this 
house.     I  never  have  been." 

"  Don't  run  away  with  that  opinion,  sir  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers, with  a  show  of  honest  indignation.  "  Don't  make  such  a 
charge  as  that  against  the  establishment,  I  must  beg  of  you. 
It  is  not  so  bad  as  that  comes  to,  sir.  Make  any  remark  you 
please  against  the  gentlemen,  or  against  me  ;  but  don't  say 
you're  not  understood  in  this  house." 

"  I'm  not  treated  as  if  I  was,"  said  the  youngest  gentle- 
man. 

"  There  you  make  a  great  mistake,  sir,"  returned  Mrs. 
Todgers,  in  the  same  strain.  "  As  many  of  the  gentlemen 
and  I  have  often  said,  you  are  too  sensitive.  That's  where  it 
is.     You  are  of  too  susceptible  a  nature  ;  it's  in  your  spirit." 

The  young  gentleman  coughed. 

"And  as,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  as  to  Mr.  Jinkins,  I  must 
beg  of  you,  if  we  are  to  part,  to  understand  that  I  don't  abet 
Mr.  Jinkins,  by  any  means.  Far  from  it.  I  could  wish  that 
Mr.  Jinkins  would  take  a  lower  tone  in  this  establishment, 
and  would  not  be  the  means  of  raising  differences  between  me 
and  gentlemen  that  I  can  much  less  bear  to  part  with,  than  I 
could  with  Mr.  Jinkins.  Mr.  Jinkins  is  not  such  a  boarder, 
sir,"  added  Mrs.  Todgers.  "that  all  considerations  of  private 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 7  5 

feeling  and  respect  give  way  before  him.     Quite  the  contrar)', 
I  assure  you." 

The  young  gentleman  was  so  much  mollified  by  these  and 
similar  speeches  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  that  he  and  that 
lady  gradually  changed  positions ;  so  that  she  became  the 
injured  party,  and  he  was  understood  to  be  the  injurer  ;  but 
in  a  complimentar}',  not  in  an  offensive  sense  ;  his  cruel  con- 
duct being  attributable  to  his  exalted  nature,  and  to  that 
alone.  So,  in  the  end,  the  young  gentleman  withdrew  his  no- 
tice, and  assured  Mrs.  Todgers  of  his  unalterable  regard  :  and 
having  done  so,  went  back  to  business. 

'*  Goodness  me,  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  "  cried  that  lady,  as 
she  came  into  the  back  room,  and  sat  wearily  down,  with 
her  basket  on  hgr  knees,  and  her  hands  folded  upon  it,  "what 
a  trial  of  temper  it  is  to  keep  a  house  like  this  !  You  must 
have  heard  most  of  what  has  just  passed.  Now  did  you  ever 
hear  the  like  ?  " 

"  Never  !  "  said  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"  Of  all  the  ridiculous  young  fellows  that  ever  I  had  to 
deal  with,"  resumed  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  that  is  the  most  ridicu- 
lous and  unreasonable.  Mr.  Jinkins  is  hard  upon  him  some- 
times, but  not  half  as  hard  as  he  deserves.  To  mention  such 
a  gentleman  as  Mr.  Jinkins  in  the  same  breath  with  Imn. 
You  know  it's  too  much  !  And  yet  he's  as  jealous  of  him, 
bless  you,  as  if  he  was  his  equal." 

The  young  ladies  were  greatly  entertained  by  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers's  account,  no  less  than  with  certain  anecdotes  illustrative 
of  the  youngest  gentleman's  character,  which  she  went  on  to 
tell  them.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  quite  stern  and  angry  : 
and  when  she  had  concluded,  said  in  a  solemn  voice  : 

"  Pray,  Mrs.  Todgers,  if  I  may  inquire,  what  does  that 
young  gentleman  contribute  towards  the  support  of  these 
premises  'i  " 

"  Why,  sir,  for  what  he  has,  he  pays  about  eighteen  shil- 
lings a  week  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Taking  one  week  with  another ;  as  near  that  as  possi- 
ble," said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  rose  from  his  chair,  folded  his  arms,  looked 
at  her,  and  shook  his  head. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say,  ma'am,  is  it  possible,  Mrs. 
Todgers,  that  for  such  a  miserable  consideration  as  eighteen 
shillings  a  week,  a  female  of  your   understanding  can  so  far 


1 76  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

demean  herself  as  to  wear  a  double  face,  even  for  an  in- 
stant ?  " 

"  I  am  forced  to  keep  things  on  the  square  if  I  can,  sir," 
faltered  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  I  must  preserve  peace  among  them, 
and  keep  my  connection  together,  if  possible,  Mr.  Pecksnil^f. 
The  profit  is  very  small." 

"  The  profit  ! "  cried  that  gentleman,  laying  great  stress 
upon  the  word.    "  The  profit,  Mrs.  Todgers  !    You  amaze  me  !  " 

He  was  so  severe,  that  Mrs.  Todgers  shed  tears. 

"  The  profit !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  The  profit  of 
dissimulation  !  To  worship  the  golden  calf  of  Baal,  for  eigh- 
teen shillings  a  week  !  " 

"  Don't  in  your  own  goodness  be  too  hard  upon  me,  Mr. 
Pecksniff,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  taking  out  her  handkerchief. 

"  Oh  Calf,  Calf  !  "  cried^  Mr.  Pecksniff  mournfully.  "  Oh, 
Baal,  Baal  !  Oh  my  friend,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  To  barter  away 
that  precious  jewel,  self-esteem,  and  cringe  to  any  mortal 
creature — for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  " 

He  was  so  subdued  and  overcome  by  the  reflection,  that 
he  immediately  took  down  his  hat  from  its  peg  in  the  passage, 
and  went  out  for  a  walk,  to  compose  his  feelings.  Anybody 
passing  him  in  the  street  might  have  known  him  for  a  good 
man  at  first  sight ;  for  his  whole  figure  teemed  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  moral  homily  he  had  read  to  Mrs.  Todgers. 

Eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  Just,  most  just,  thy  censure, 
upright  Pecksniff  !  Had  it  been  for  the  sake  of  a  ribbon, 
star,  or  garter  ;  sleeves  of  lawn,  a  great  man's  smile,  a  seat  in 
parliament,  a  tap  upon  the  shoulder  from  a  courtly  sword  ;  a 
place,  a  party,  or  a  thriving  lie,  or  eighteen  thousand  pounds, 
or  even  eighteen  hundred  ; — but  to  worship  the  golden  calf 
for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !     Oh  pitiful,  pitiful  ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WHEREIN  A  CERTAIN  GENTLEMAN  BECOMES  PARTICULAR  IN 
HIS  ATTENTIONS  TO  A  CERTAIN  LADY  ;  AND  MORE  COMING 
EVENTS    THAN    ONE,    CAST    THEIR    SHADOWS    BEFORE. 

The  family  were  within  two  or  three  days  of  their  depart- 
ure from  Mrs.  Todgers's,  and  the  commercial  gentlemen  were 
to  a  man  despondent  and  not  to  be  comforted,  because  of  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  177 

approaching  separation,  when  Bailey  junior,  at  the  jocund  time 
of  noon,  presented  himself  before  Miss  Charity  Pecksniff,  then 
sitting  with  her  sister  in  the  banquet  chamber,  hemming  six  new 
pocket-handkerchiefs  for  Mr.  Jinkins  ;  and  having  expressed  a 
hope,  preliminar}-  and  pious,  that  he  might  be  blest,  gave  her 
in  his  pleasant  way  to  understand  that  a  visitor  attended  to 
pay  his  respects  to  her,  and  was  at  that  moment  waiting  in  the 
drawing-room.  Perhaps  this  last  announcement  showed  in  a 
more  striking  point  of  view  than  many  lengthened  speeches 
could  have  done,  the  trustfulness  and  faith  of  Bailey's  nature  j 
since  he  had,  in  fact,  last  seen  the  visitor  on  the  door-mat, 
where,  after  signifying  to  him  that  he  would  do  well  to 
go  up  stairs,  he  had  left  him  to  the  guidance  of  his  own 
sagacity.  Hence,.it  was  at  least  an  even  chance  that  the 
visitor  w^as  then  wandering  on  the  roof  of  the  house,  or  vainly 
seeking  to  extricate  himself  from  a  maze  of  bedrooms  ;  Tod- 
gers's  being  precisely  that  kind  of  establishment  in  which  an 
unpiloted  stranger  is  pretty  sure  to  find  himself  in  some  place 
where  he  least  expects  and  least  desires  to  be. 

"  A  gentleman  for  me  !  "  cried  Charity,  pausing  in  her 
work  ;  "  my  gracious,  Bailey  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Bailey.  "  It  is  my  gracious,  a'nt  it  t  " 
Wouldn't  I  be  gracious  neither,  not  if  I  wos  him  !  " 

The  remark  was  rendered  somewhat  obscure  in  itself,  by 
reason  (as  the  reader  may  have  observed)  of  a  redundancy  of 
negatives  ;  but  accompanied  by  action  expressive  of  a  faithful 
couple  walking  arm-in-arm  towards  a  parochial  church,  mutu- 
ally exchanging  looks  of  love,  it  clearly  signified  this  youth's 
conviction  that  the  caller's  purpose  was  of  an  amorous  tend- 
ency. Miss  Charity  affected  to  reprove  so  great  a  liberty ; 
but  she  could  not  help  smiling.  He  was  a  strange  boy  to  be 
sure.  There  was  always  some  ground  of  probability  and  like- 
lihood mingled  with  his  absurd  behavior.  That  was  the  best 
of  it ! 

"But  I  don't  know  any  gentleman,  Bailey,"  said  Miss 
Pecksniff.     "  I  think  you  must  have  made  a  mistake." 

Mr.  Bailey  smiled  at  the  extreme  wildness  of  such  a  sup- 
position, and  regarded  the  young  ladies  with  unimpaired  affa- 
bility. 

"  My  dear  Merry,"  said  Charity,  "who  can  it  be  ?  Isn't  it 
odd  ?  I  have  a  great  mind  not  to  go  to  him  really.  So  very 
strange  you  know  !  " 

The  younger  sister  plainly  considered  that  this  appeal  had 

12 


1 7  8  ^/^  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

its  origin  in  the  pride  of  being  called  upon  and  asked  for  ;  and 
that  it  was  intended  as  an  assertion  of  superiority,  and  a  re- 
taliation upon  her  for  having  captured  the  commercial  gentle- 
men. Therefore,  she  replied,  with  great  affection  and  polite- 
ness, that  it  was,  no  doubt,  very  strange  indeed  ;  and  that 
she  was  totally  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  the  ridiculous  jDer- 
son  unknown  could  mean  by  it. 

"  Quite  impossible  to  divine  !  "  said  Charity,  with  some 
sharpness,  "  though  still,  at  the  same  time,  you  needn't  be 
angry,  my  dear." 

"  Thank  you,"  retorted  Merry,  singing  at  her  needle.  "  I 
am  quite  aware  of  that,  my  love." 

"  I  am  afraid  your  head  is  turned,  you  silly  thing,"  said 
Cherry. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear,"  said  Merr^-,  with  engaging  can- 
dor, "  that  I  have  been  afraid  of  that,  myself,  all  along  !  So 
much  incense  and  nonsense,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  is  enough 
to  turn  a  stronger  head  than  mine.  What  a  relief  it  must  be 
to  you,  my  dear,  to  be  so  very  comfortable  in  that  respect,  and 
not  to  be  worried  by  those  odious  men  !  How  do  you  do  it. 
Cherry  ? " 

This  artless  inquiry  might  have  led  to  turbulent  results, 
but  for  the  strong  emotions  of  delight  evinced  by  Bailey  junior, 
whose  relish  in  the  turn  the  conversation  had  lately  taken  was 
so  acute,  that  it  impelled  and  forced  him  to  the  instantaneous 
performance  of  a  dancing  step,  extremely  difficult  in  its  na- 
ture, and  only  to  be  achieved  in  a  moment  of  ecstasy,  which  is 
commonly  called  The  Frog's  Hornpipe.  A  manifestation  so 
lively,  brought  to  their  immediate  recollection  the  great 
virtuous  precept,  "  Keep  up  appearances  whatever  you  do," 
in  which  they  had  been  educated.  They  forbore  at  once,  and 
jointly  signified  to  Mr.  Bailey  that  if  he  should  presume  to 
practice  that  figure  any  more  in  their  presence,  they  would 
instantly  acquaint  Mrs.  Todgers  with  the  fact,  and  would 
demand  his  condign  punishment  at  the  hands  of  that  lady. 
The  young  gentleman  having  expressed  the  bitterness  of  his 
contrition  by  affecting  to  wipe  away  scalding  tears  with  his 
apron,  and  afterwards  feigning  to  wring  a  vast  amount  of 
water  from  that  garment,  held  the  door  open  while  Miss 
Charity  passed  out ;  and  so  that  damsel  went  in  state  up  stairs 
to  receive  her  mysterious  adorer. 

By  some  strange  occurrence  of  favorable  circumstances  he 
had  found  out  the  drawing-room,  and  was  sitting  there  alone. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  179 

"  Ah,  cousin  !  "  he  said.  "  Here  I  am,  you  see.  You 
thought  I  was  lost,  I'll  be  bound.  Well !  how  do  you  find 
yourself  by  this  time  }  " 

Miss  Charity  replied  that  she  was  quite  well,  and  gave  Mr. 
Jonas  Chuzzlewit  her  hand. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  and  you've  got  over  the 
fatigues  of  the  journey,  have  you  ?  I  say.  How's  the  other 
one  ?  " 

"  My  sister  is  very  well,  I  believe,"  returned  the  young 
lady.  "  I  have  not  heard  her  complain  of  any  indisposition, 
sir.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  her,  and  ask  her  your- 
self ?  " 

"  No,  no,  cousin  !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas,  sitting  down  beside 
her  on  the  window-seat.  "  Don't  be  in  a  hurry.  There's  no 
occasion  for  that',  you  know.     What  a  cruel  girl  you  are  !  " 

"It's  impossible  iox you  to  know,"  said  Cherry,  "whether 
I  am  or  not." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Jonas.  "  I  say  !  Did 
you  think  I  was  lost  ?     You  haven't  told  me  that." 

"  I  didn't  think  at  all  about  it,"  answered  Cheny. 

"  Didn't  you,  though  ?  "  said  Jonas,  pondering  upon  this 
strange  reply.     " — Did  the  other  one?  " 

"  I  am  sure  it's  impossible  for  me  to  say  what  my  sister 
may,  or  may  not  have  thought  on  such  a  subject,"  cried 
Cherry.  "  She  never  said  anything  to  me  about  it,  one  way 
or  other." 

"  Didn't  she  laugh  about  it .?  "  inquired  Jonas. 

"  No.     She  didn't  even  laugh  about  it,"  answered  Charity. 

"  She's  a  terrible  one  to  laugh,  an't  she  ?  "  said  Jonas, 
lowering  his  voice. 

■"  She  is  very  lively,"  said  Cherr}'. 

"  Liveliness  is  a  pleasant  thing — when  it  don't  lead  to 
spending  money.     An't  it  .''  "  asked  Mr.  Jonas. 

"  Very  much  so,  indeed,"  said  Cherry,  with  a  demureness 
of  manner  that  gave  a  very  disinterested  character  to  her 
assent. 

"  Such  liveliness  as  yours  I  mean,  you  know,"  observed 
Mr.  Jonas,  as  he  nudged  her  with  his  elbow.  "  1  should  have 
come  to  see  you  before,  but  I  didn't  know  where  you  was. 
How  quick  you  hurried  off,  that  morning  ! " 

"  I  was  amenable  to  my  papa's  directions,"  said  Miss 
Charity. 

"  I  wish  he  had  given  me   his  direction,"  returned  her 


1 8 o  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

cousin,  "  and  then  I  should  have  found  you  out  before.  Why, 
I  shouldn't  have  found  you  even  now,  if  I  hadn't  met  him  in 
the  street  this  morning.  What  a  sleek,  sly  chap  he  is !  Just 
like  a  tom-cat,  an't  he  ?  " 

"  I  must  trouble  you  to  have  the  goodness  to  speak  more 
respectfully  of  my  papa,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Charity.  "  I  can't 
allow  such  a  tone  as  that,  even  in  jest." 

"  Ecod,  you  may  say  what  you  like  of  my  father,  then,  and 
so'  I  give  you  leave,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  think  it's  liquid  aggrava- 
tion that  circulates  through  his  veins,  and  not  regular  blood. 
How  old  should  you  think  my  father  was,  cousin  .-*  " 

"Old,  no  doubt,"  replied  Miss  Charity;  "but  a  fine  old 
gentleman." 

"  A  fine  oldgentleman  !  "  repeated  Jonas,  giving  the  crown 
of  his  hat  an  angry  knock.  "  Ah  !  It's  time  he  was  thinking 
of  being  drawn  out  a  little  finer  too.     Why,  he's  eighty  !  " 

"  Is  he,  indeed  ?  "  said  the  young  lady. 

"  And  ecod,"  cried  Jonas,  "  now  he's  gone  so  far  without 
giving  in,  I  don't  see  much  to  prevent  his  being  ninety  ;  no, 
nor  even  a  hundred.  Why,  a  man  with  any  feeling  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  being  eighty  let  alone  more.  Where's  his 
religion  I  should  like  to  know,  when  he  goes  flying  in  the  face 
of  the  Bible  like  that .-'  Three-score-and-ten's  the  mark  ;  and 
no  man  with  a  conscience,  and  a  proper  sense  of  what's 
expected  of  him,  has  any  business  to  live  longer." 

Is  any  one  surprised  at  Mr.  Jonas  making  such  a  reference 
to  such  a  book  for  such  a  purpose  1  Does  any  one  doubt  the 
old  saw,  that  the  Devil  (being  a  lajanan)  quotes  Scripture  for 
his  own  ends  ?  If  he  will  take  the  trouble  to  look  about  him, 
he  may  tind  a  greater  number  of  confirmations  of  the  fact,  in 
the  occurrences  of  any  single  day,  than  the  steam-gun '  can 
discharge  balls  in  a  minute. 

"  But  there's  enough  of  my  father,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  it's  of  no 
use  to  go  putting  one's-self  out  of  the  way  by  talking  about 
him.  I  called  to  ask  you  to  come  and  take  a  walk,  cousin, 
and  see  some  of  the  sights  ;  and  to  come  to  our  house  after- 
wards, and  have  a  bit  of  something.  Pecksniff  will  most 
likely  look  in  in  the  evening,  he  says,  and  bring  you  home. 
See,  here's  his  writing  ;  I  made  him  put  it  down  this  morning, 
when  he  told  me  he  shouldn't  be  back  before  I  came  here  ; 
in  case  you  wouldn't  believe  me.  There's  nothing  like  proof, 
is  there  ?  Ha,  ha !  I  say — you'll  bring  the  other  one,  you 
know  !  " 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 8 1 

Miss  Charity  cast  her  eyes  upon  her  father's  autograph, 
which  merely  said  :  "  Go,  my  children,  with  your  cousin.  Let 
there  be  union  among  us  when  it  is  possible  ;  "  and  after 
enough  of  hesitation  to  impart  a  proper  value  to  her  consent, 
withdrew,  to  prepare  her  sister  and  herself  for  the  excursion. 
She  soon  returned,  accompanied  by  Miss  Mercy,  who  was  by 
no  means  pleased  to  leave  the  brilliant  triumphs  of  Todgers's 
for  the  societ}'  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his  respected  father. 

"Aha  !  "  cried  Jonas.     "  There  you  are,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  fright,"  said  Mercy,  "here  I  am  ;  and  I  would  much 
rather  be  anywhere  else,  I  assure  you." 

"You  don't  mean  that,"  cried  Mr.  Jonas.  "You  can't, 
you  know.     It  isn't  possible." 

"You  can  have  what  opinion  you  like,  fright,"  retorted 
Mercy.  "  I  am  content  to  keep  mine  ;  and  mine  is  that  you 
are  a  very  unpleasant,  odious,  disagreeable  person."  Here 
she  laughed  heartily,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  herself  very  much. 

"  Oh,  you're  a  sharp  gal  !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas.  "  She's  a 
regular  teazer,  an't  she,  cousin  ?  " 

Miss  Charity  replied  in  effect,  that  she  was  unable  to  say 
what  the  habits  and  propensities  of  a  regular  teazer  might  be  ; 
and  that  even  if  she  possessed  such  information,  it  would  ill 
become  her  to  admit  the  existence  of  any  creature  with  such 
an  unceremonious  name  in  her  family  ;  far  less  in  the  person 
of  a  beloved  sister;  "whatever,"  added  Cherry  with  an  angry 
glance,  "whatever  her  real  nature  may  be." 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Meny,  "  the  only  observation  I 
have  to  make,  is,  that  if  we  don't  go  out  at  once,  1  shall  cer- 
tainly take  my  bonnet  off  again,  and  stay  at  home." 

This  threat  had  the  desired  effect  of  preventing  any  far- 
ther altercation,  for  Mr.  Jonas  immediately  proposed  an  ad- 
journment, and  the  same  being  carried  unanimously,  they 
departed  from  the  house  straightway.  On  the  door-step,  Mr. 
Jonas  gave  an  arm  to  each  cousin  ;  which  act  of  gallantry  be- 
ing observed  by  Bailey  junior,  from  the  garret  window,  was 
by  him  saluted  with  a  loud  and  \iolent  fit  of  coughing,  to  which 
paroxysm  he  was  still  the  victim  when  they  turned  the  corner. 

Mr.  Jonas  inquired  in  the  first  instance  if  they  were  good 
walkers,  and  being  answered,  "Yes,"  submitted  their  pedes- 
trian powers  to  a  pretty  severe  test ;  for  he  showed  them  as 
many  sights,  in  the  way  of  bridges,  churches,  streets,  outsides 
of  theatres,  and  other  free  spectacles,  in  that  one  forenoon,  as 
most  people  see  in  a  twelvemonth.     It  was  observable  in  this 


1 8  2  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

gentleman,  that  he  had  an  insurmountable  distaste  to  the  in- 
sides  of  buildings  ;  and  that  he  was  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  merits  of  all  shows,  in  respect  of  which  there  was  any 
charge  for  admission,  which  it  seemed  were  every  one  detesta- 
ble, and  of  the  very  lowest  grade  of  merit.  He  was  so  thor- 
oughly possessed  with  this  opinion,  that  when  Miss  Charity 
happened  to  mention  the  circumstance  of  their  having  been 
twice  or  thrice  to  the  theatre  with  Mr.  Jinkins  and  party,  he 
inquired,  as  a  matter  of  course,  "  where  the  orders  came 
from  ?  "  and  being  told  that  Mr.  Jinkins  and  party  paid,  was 
beyond  description  entertained,  observing  that  "  they  must  be 
nice  flats,  certainly  ;  "  and  often  in  the  course  of  the  walk, 
bursting  out  again  into  a  perfect  convulsion  of  laughter  at  the 
surpassing  silliness  of  those  gentlemen,  and  (doubtless)  at  his 
own  superior  wisdom. 

When  they  had  been  out  for  some  hours  and  were  thor- 
oughly fatigued,  it  being  by  that  time  twilight,  Mr.  Jonas  in- 
timated that  he  would  show  them  one  of  the  best  pieces  of 
fun  with  which  he  was  acquainted.  This  joke  was  of  a  prac- 
tical kind,  and  its  humor  lay  in  taking  a  hackney-coach  to  the 
extreme  limits  of  possibility  for  a  shilling.  Happily  it  brought 
them  to  the  place  where  Mr.  Jonas  dwelt,  or  the  young  ladies 
might  have  rather  missed  the  point  and  cream  of  the  jest. 

The  old-established  firm  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son, 
Manchester  Warehousemen,  and  so  forth,  had  its  place  of  busi- 
ness in  a  very  narrow  street  somewhere  behind  the  Post  Of- 
fice ;  where  eveiy  house  was  in  the  brightest  summer  morn- 
ing very  gloomy  ;  and  where  light  porters  watered  the  pave- 
ment, each  before  his  own  emploj^er's  premises,  in  fantastic 
patterns,  in  the  dog-days  ;  and  where  spruce  gentlemen  with 
their  hands  in  the  pockets  of  symmetrical  trousers,  were  al- 
ways to  be  seen  in  warm  weather,  contemplating  their  unde- 
niable boots  in  dusty  warehouse  doorways :  which  appeared 
to  be  the  hardest  work  they  did,  except  now  and  then  carr}^- 
ing  pens  behind  their  ears.  A  dim,  dirty,  smoky,  tumble- 
down, rotten  old  house  it  was,  as  anybody  would  desire  to 
see  ;  but  there  the  firm  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son  trans- 
acted all  their  business  and  their  pleasure  too,  such  as  it 
was ;  for  neither  the  young  man  nor  the  old  had  any  other 
residence,  or  any  care  or  thought  beyond  its  narrow  limits. 

Business,  as  may  be  readily  supposed,  was  the  main  thing 
in  this  establishment ;  insomuch  indeed  that  it  shouldered  com- 
fort out  of  doors,  and  jostled  the  domestic  arrangements  at 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


183 


every  turn.  Thus  in  the  miserable  bed-rooms  there  were  files 
of  moth-eaten  letters  hanging  up  against  the  walls  ;  and  linen 
rollers,  and  fragments  of  old  patterns,  and  odds  and  ends  of 
spoiled  goods,  strewed  upon  the  ground  ;  while  the  meagre 
bedsteads,  washing-stands,  and  scraps  of  carpet,  were  hud- 
dled away  into  corners  as  objects  of  secondary  consideration, 
not  to  be  thought  of  but  as  disagreeable  necessities,  furnish- 
ing no  profit,  and  intruding  on  the  one  affair  of  life.  The 
single  sitting-room  was  on  the  same  principle,  a  chaos  of 
boxes  and  old  papers,  and  had  more  counting-house  stools 
in  it  than  chairs ;  not  to  mention  a  great  monster  of  a 
desk  straddling  over  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  an  iron  safe 
sunk  into  the  wall  above  the  fire-place.  The  solitary  little 
table  for  purposes  of  refection  and  social  enjoyment,  bore  as 
fair  a  proportion  to  the  desk  and  other  business  furniture,  as 
the  graces  and  harmless  relaxations  of  life  had  ever  done,  in 
the  persons  of  the  old  man  and  his  son,  their  pursuit  of  wealth. 
It  was  meanly  laid  out  now,  for  dinner ;  and  in  a  chair  before 
the  fire,  sat  Anthony  himself,  who  rose  to  greet  his  son  and 
his  fair  cousins  as  they  entered. 

An  ancient  proverb  warns  us  that  we  should  not  expect  to 
find  old  heads  upon  young  shoulders  ;  to  which  it  may  be 
added  that  we  seldom  meet  with  that  unnatural  combination, 
but  we  feel  a  strong  desire  to  knock  them  off ;  merely  from 
an  inherent  love  we  have  of  seeing  things  in  their  right  places. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  many  men,  in  no  wise  choleric  by 
nature,  felt  this  impulse  rising  up  within  them,  when  they  first 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Jonas;  but  if  they  had  known 
him  more  intimately  in  his  own  house,  and  had  sat  with  him 
at  his  own  board,  it  would  assuredly  have  been  paramount  to 
all  other  considerations. 

"  Well,  ghost !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas,  dutifully  addressing  his 
parent  by  that  title.     "  Is  dinner  nearly  ready  "i  " 

"  I  should  think  it  was,"  rejoined  the  old  man. 

"  What's  the  good  of  that  t  "  rejoined  the  son.  "  /should 
think  it  was.     I  want  to  know." 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  know  for  certain,"  said  Anthony. 

"You  don't  know  for  certain,"  rejoined  his  son  in  a  lower 
tone.  "  No.  You  don't  know  anything  for  certain,  you  don't. 
Give  me  your  candle  here.     I  want  it  for  the  gals." 

Anthony  handed  him  a  battered  old  office  candlestick, 
with  which  Mr.  Jonas  preceded  the  young  ladies  to  the  near- 
est bed-room,  where  he  left  them  to  take  off  their  shawls  and 


1 8  4  MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 

bonnets  ;  and  returning,  occupied  himself  in  opening  a  bottle 
of  wine,  sharpening  the  carving-knife,  and  muttering  compli- 
ments to  his  father,  until  they  and  the  dinner  appeared  to- 
gether. The  repast  consisted  of  a  hot  leg  of  mutton  with 
greens  and  potatoes  ;  and  the  dishes  having  been  set  upon 
the  table  by  a  slipshod  old  w^oman,  they  were  left  to  enjoy  it 
after  their  own  manner. 

"  Bachelor's  Hall  you  know,  cousin,"  said  Mr.  Jonas  to 
Charity.  "I  say — the  other  one  will  be  having  a  laugh  at  this 
when  she  gets  home,  won't  she  ?  Here  ;  you  sit  on  the  right 
side  of  me,  and  I'll  have  her  upon  the  left.  Other  one,  will 
you  come  here  ?  " 

"You're  such  a  fright,"  replied  Mercy,  "  that  I  know  I 
shall  have  no  appetite  if  I  sit  so  near  you  :  but  I  suppose  I 
must." 

"  An't  she  lively  ?  "  whispered  Mr.  Jonas  to  the  elder  sis- 
ter, with  his  favorite  elbow  emphasis. 

"  Oh  I  really  don't  know !  "  replied  Miss  Pecksniff,  tartly. 
"I  am  tired  of  being  asked  such  ridiculous  questions." 

"  What's  that  precious  old  father  of  mine  about  now  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Jonas,  seeing  that  his  parent  was  travelling  up  and 
down  the  room,  instead  of  taking  his  seat  at  table.  "  What 
are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  I've  lost  my  glasses,  Jonas,"  said  old  Anthony. 

"  Sit  down  without  your  glasses,  can't  you  .-•  "  returned  his 
son.  "  You  don't  eat  or  drink  out  of  'em,  I  think  ;  and 
where's  that  sleepy-headed  old  Chuffey  got  to  !  Now,  stupid. 
Oh  !  you  know  your  name,  do  you  ?  "' 

It  would  seem  that  he  didn't,  for  he  didn't  come  until  the 
father  called.  As  he  spoke,  the  door  of  a  small  glass  office, 
which  was  partitioned  off  from  the  rest  of  the  room,  was  slowly 
opened,  and  a  little  blear-eyed,  weazen-faced,  ancient  man 
came  creeping  out.  He  was  of  a  remote  fashion,  and  dusty, 
like  the  rest  of  the  furniture  ;  he  was  dressed  in  a  decayed 
suit  of  black  ;  with  breeches  garnished  at  the  knees  with  rusty 
whisps  of  ribbon,  the  ver)'  paupers  of  shoe-strings;  on  the 
lower  portion  of  his  spindle  legs  were  dingy  w'orsted  stock- 
ings of  the  same  color.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been  put 
away  and  forgotten  half  a  centur}'  before,  and  somebody  had 
just  found  him  in  a  lumber-closet. 

Such  as  he  was,  he  came  slowly  creeping  on  towards  the 
table,  until  at  last  he  crept  into  the  vacant  chair,  from  which,  as 
his  dim  faculties  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  strangers, 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT.  185 

and  those  strangers  ladies,  he  rose  again,  apparently  intend- 
ino"  to  make  a  bow.  But  he  sat  down  once  more,  without  hav- 
in'^  made  it,  and  breathing  on  his  shrivelled  hands  to  warm 
them,  remained  with  his  poor  blue  nose  immovable  about  his 
plate,  looking  at  nothing,  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing,  and  a 
face  that  meant  nothing.  Take  him  in  that  state,  and  he  was 
an  embodiment  of  nothing.     Nothing  else. 

"Our  clerk,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  as  host  and  master  of  the 
ceremonies:  "Old  Chuffey." 

"  Is  he  deaf  ?  "  inquired  one  of  the  young  ladies. 

"  No,  I  don't  know  that  he  is.  He  an't  deaf,  is  he, 
father  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  him  say  he  was,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  Blind  ?  "  inquired  the  young  ladies. 

"  N — no.  I  never  understood  that  he  was  at  all  blind," 
said  Jonas,  carelessly.  "  You  don't  consider  him  so,  do  you 
father  ? " 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Anthony. 

"What  is  he  then.?" 

"Why,  I'll  tell  you  what  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  apart  to 
the  young  ladies,  "  he's  precious  old  for  one  thing  \  and  I 
an't  best  pleased  with  him  for  that,  for  I  think  my  father  must 
have  caught  it  of  him.  He's  a  strange  old  chap,  for  another," 
he  added  in  a  louder  voice,  "  and  don't  understand  any  one 
hardly,  but  Jihn  ! "  He  pointed  to  his  honored  parent  with 
the  carving-fork,  in  order  that  they  might  know  whom  he 
meant. 

"  How  very  strange  !  "  cried  the  sisters. 

"Why,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  lie's  been  addling  his 
old  brains  with  figures  and  book-keeping  all  his  life  ;  and 
twenty  years  ago  or  so  he  went  and  took  a  fever.  vVlI  the 
time  he  was  out  of  his  head  (which  was  three  weeks)  he  never 
left  off  casting  up  ;  and  he  got  to  so  many  million  at  last  that 
I  don't  believe  he's  ever  been  quite  right  since.  We  don't  do 
much  business  now  though,  nnd  he  an't  a  bad  clerk." 

"  A  very  good  one,"  said  Anthony. 

"  Well  !  He  an't  a  dear  one  at  all  events,"  observed 
Jonas  ;  "  and  he  earns  his  salt,  which  is  enough  for  our  look- 
out. I  was  telling  you  that  he  hardly  understands  any  one 
except  my  father  ;  he  always  understands  him  though,  and 
wakes  up  quite  wonderful.  He's  been  used  to  his  ways  so 
long,  you  see  !  Why,  I've  seen  him  play  whist,  with  my  father 
for  a  partner  j  and  a  good  rubber  too ;  when  he  had  no  more 


1 86  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

notion  what  sort  of  people  he  was  playing  against,  than  you 
have." 

"  Has  he  no  appetite  ?  "  asked  Merry. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jonas,  plying  his  own  knife  and  fork  ver}' 
fast.  "  He  eats — when  he's  helped.  But  he  don't  care 
whether  he  waits  a  minute  or  an  hour,  as  long  as  father's  here  : 
so  when  I'm  at  all  sharp  set,  as  I  am  to-day,  I  come  to  him 
after  I've  taken  the  edge  off  my  own  hunger,  you  know.  Now, 
Chuff ey,  stupid,  are  you  ready  ?  " 

Chuffey  remained  immovable. 

"  Always  a  perverse  old  file,  he  was,"  said  Mr.  Jonas, 
coolly  helping  himself  to  another  slice,  '*ask  him,  father." 

"  Are  you  ready  for  your  dinner,  Chuffey  ?  "  asked  the  old 
man. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Chuffey,  lighting  up  into  a  sentient  human 
creature  at  the  first  sound  of  the  voice,  so  that  it  was  at 
once  curious  and  quite  a  moving  sight  to  see  him.  "  Yes, 
yes.  Quite  ready,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Quite  ready,  sir.  All 
ready,  all  ready,  all  ready."  With  that  he  stopped,  smilingly, 
and  listened  for  some  further  address  ;  but  being  spoken  to 
no  more,  the  light  forsook  his  face  by  little  and  little,  until  he 
was  nothing  again.  ^ 

"  He'll  be  very  disagreeable,  mind,"  said  Jonas,  address- 
ing his  cousins  as  he  handed  the  old  man's  portion  to  his 
father.  "  He  always  chokes  himself  when  it  an't  broth.  Look 
at  him  now !  Did  you  ever  see  a  horse  with  such  a  wall-eyed 
expression  as  he's  got }  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  joke  of  it,  I 
wouldn't  have  let  him  come  in  to-day ;  but  I  thought  he'd 
amuse  you." 

The  poor  old  subject  of  this  humane  speech,  was,  happily 
for  himself,  as  unconscious  of  its  purport,  as  of  most  other 
remarks  that  were  made  in  his  presence.  But  the  mutton 
being  tough,  and  his  gums  weak,  he  quickly  verified  the 
statement  relative  to  his  choking  propensities,  and  underwent 
so  much  in  his  attempts  to  dine,  that  Mr.  Jonas  was  infinitely 
amused  :  protesting  that  he  had  seldom  seen  him  better  com- 
pany in  all  his  life,  and  that  he  was  enough  to  make  a  man 
split  his  sides  with  laughing.  Indeed,  he  went  so  far  as  to 
assure  the  sisters,  that  in  this  point  of  view  he  considered 
Chuffey  superior  to  his  own  father  ;  which,  as  he  significantly 
added,  was  saying  a  great  deal. 

It  was  strange  enough  that  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  himself 
so  old  a  man,  should  take  a  pleasure  in  these  gibings  of  his 


MARTIN-  CHUZZLEWIT.  187 

estimable  son,  at  the  expense  of  the  poor  shadow  at  their 
table.  But  he  did,  unquestionably  :  though  not  so  much — to 
do  him  justice — with  reference  to  their  ancient  clerk,  as  in 
exultation  at  the  sharpness  of  Jonas.  For  the  same  reason, 
that  young  man's  coarse  allusions,  even  to  himself,  filled  him 
with  a  stealthy  glee  :  causing  him  to  rub  his  hands  and  chuckle 
covertly,  as  if  he  said  in  his  sleeve,  ''  /taught him.  /trained 
him.  This  is  the  heir  of  my  bringing-up.  Sly,  cunning,  and 
covetous,  he'll  not  squander  my  money.  I  worked  for  this  ;  I 
hoped  for  this  ;  it  has  been  the  great  end  and  aim  of  my  life." 

What  a  noble  end  and  aim  it  was  to  contemplate  in  the 
attainment,  truly !  But  there  be  some  who  manufacture  idols 
after  the  fashion  of  themselves,  and  fail  to  worshijD  them 
when  they  are  niade  ;  charging  their  deformity  on  outraged 
nature.     Anthony  was  better  than  these  at  any  rate. 

Chuffey  boggled  over  his  plate  so  long,  that  Mr.  Jonas, 
losing  patience,  took  it  from  him  at  last  with  his  own  hands, 
and  requested  his  father  to  signify  to  that  venerable  person 
that  he  had  better  "  peg  away  at  his  bread ; "  which  Anthony 
did. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  brightening  up  as  before, 
when  this  was  communicated  to  him  in  the  same  voice  :  "  quite 
right,  quite  right.  He's  your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ! 
Bless  him  for  a  sharp  lad  !     Bless  him,  bless  him  !  " 

Mr.  Jonas  considered  this  so  particularly  childish  (perhaps 
with  some  reason),  that  he  only  laughed  the  more,  and  told 
his  cousins  that  he  was  afraid  one  of  these  fine  days,  Chuffey 
would  be  the  death  of  him.  The  cloth  was  then  removed,  and 
the  bottle  of  wine  set  upon  the  table,  from  which  Mr.  Jonas 
filled  the  young  ladies'  glasses,  calling  on  them  not  to  spare 
it,  as  they  might  be  certain  there  was  plenty  more  where  that 
came  from.  But  he  added  with  some  haste  after  this  sally, 
that  it  was  only  his  joke,  and  they  wouldn't  suppose  him  to  be 
in  earnest,  he  was  sure. 

"  I  shall  drink,"  said  Anthony,  "  to  Pecksniff.  Your  fa- 
ther, my  dears.  A  clever  man,  Pecksniff.  A  wary  man  !  A 
hypocrite,  though,  eh  }  A  hypocrite,  girls,  eh  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 
Well,  so  he  is.  Now,  among  friends,  he  is.  I  don't  think  the 
worse  of  him  for  that,  unless  it  is  that  he  overdoes  it.  You 
may  overdo  anything,  my  darlings.  You  may  overdo  even 
hypocrisy.     Ask  Jonas  !  " 

"You  can't  overdo  taking  care  of  yourself,"  observed  that 
hopeful  gentleman  with  his  mouth  full. 


l88  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  my  dears  ?  "  cried  Anthony,  quite  en- 
raptured. Wisdom,  wisdom  !  A  good  exception,  Jonas.  No. 
It's  not  easy  to  overdo  that." 

"  Except,"  whispered  Mr.  Jonas  to  his  favorite  cousin, 
"  except  when  one  lives  too  long.  Ha,  ha  !  Tell  the  other 
one  that.     I  say  !  ' 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  said  Cherry,  in  a  petulant  manner. 
"You  can  tell  her,  yourself,  if  you  wish,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  She  seems  to  make  such  game  of  one,"  replied  Mr. 
Jonas. 

"  Then  why  need  you  trouble  yourself  about  her  ?  "  said 
Charity.  "  I  am  sure  she  doesn't  troubte  herself  much  about 
you." 

"  Don't  she  though  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Good  gracious  me,  need  I  tell  you  that  she  don't  ? " 
returned  the  young  lady. 

Mr.  Jonas  made  no  verbal  rejoinder,  but  he  glanced  at 
Mercy  with  an  odd  expression  in  his  face  ;  and  said  that 
wouldn't  break  his  heart,  she  might  depend  upon  it.  Then  he 
looked  on  Charity  with  even  greater  favor  than  before,  and 
besought  her,  as  his  polite  manner  was,  "  to  come  a  little 
closer." 

"  There's  another  thing  that's  not  easily  overdone,  father," 
remarked  Jonas,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  What's  that }  "  asked  the  father  ;  grinning  already  in  an- 
ticipation. 

"  A  bargain,"  said  the  son.  "  Here's  the  rule  for  bargains. 
'  Do  other  men,  for  they  would  do  you.'  That's  the  true  busi- 
ness precept.     All  others  are  counterfeits." 

The  delighted  father  applauded  this  sentiment  to  the  echo  ; 
and  was  so  much  tickled  by  it,  that  he  was  at  the  pains  of  im- 
parting the  same  to  his  ancient  clerk,  who  rubbed  his  hands,  nod- 
ded his  palsied  head,  winked  his  watery  eyes,  and  cried  in  his 
whistling  tones,  "  Good  !  Good  !  Your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit !  "  with  every  feeble  demonstration  of  delight  that  he  was  ca- 
pable of  making.  But  this  old  man's  enthusiasm  had  the  re- 
deeming quality  of  being  felt  in  sympathy  with  the  only  creature 
to  whom  he  was  linked  by  ties  of  long  association,  and  by  his 
present  helplessness.  And  if  there  had  been  anybody  there, 
who  cared  to  think  about  it,  some  dregs  of  better  nature 
unawakened,  might  perhaps  have  been  descried  through  that 
very  medium,  melancholy  though  it  was,  yet  lingering  at  the 
bottom  of  the  worn-out  cask,  called  Chuffey. 


MARTIiX  CHUZZLEWTT.  ign 

As  matters  stood,  nobody  tliought  or  said  anything  upon 
the  subject  ;  so  Chuffey  fell  hack  into  a  dark  corner  on  one 
side  of  the  fire-place,  where  he  always  spent  his  evenings,  and 
was  neither  seen  nor  heard  again  that  night  ;  save  once,  when 
a  cup  of  tea  was  given  him,  in  which  he  was  seen  to  soak  his 
bread  mechanically.  There  was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he 
went  to  sleep  at  these  seasons,  or  that  he  heard,  or  saw,  or 
felt,  or  thought.  He  remained,  as  it  were,  frozen  ujd — if  any 
term  expressive  of  such  a  vigorous  process  can  be  applied  to 
him — until  he  was  again  thawed  for  the  moment  by  a  word  or 
touch  from  Anthony. 

Miss  Charity  made  tea  by  desire  of  Mr.  Jonas,  and  felt  and 
looked  so  like  the  lady  of  the  house,  that  she  was  in  the 
prettiest  confusio.p  imaginable  ;  the  more  so,  from  Mr.  Jonas 
sitting  close  beside  her,  and  whispering  a  variety  of  admiring 
expressions  in  her  ear.  Miss  Alercy,  for  her  part,  felt  the 
entertainment  of  the  evening  to  be  so  distinctly  and  exclu- 
sively theirs,  that  she  silently  deplored  the  commercial  gentle- 
men— at  that  moment,  no  doubt,  wearying  for  her  return — 
and  yawned  over  yesterday's  newspaper.  As  to  Anthony, 
he  went  to  sleep  outright,  so  Jonas  and  Cheriy  had  a  clear 
stage  to  themselves  as  long  as  they  chose  to  keep  possession 
of  it. 

When  the  tea  tray  was  taken  away,  as  it  was  at  last,  Mr. 
Jonas  produced  a  dirty  pack  of  cards,  and  entertained  the 
sisters  with  divers  small  feats  of  dexterity  :  whereof  the  main 
purpose  of  every  one  was  that  you  were  to  decoy  somebodv  into 
laying  a  wager  with  you  that  you  couldn't  do  it  ;  and  were  then 
immediately  to  win  and  pocket  his  money.  Mr.  Jonas  informed 
them  that  these  accomplishments  were  in  high  vogue  in  the 
most  intellectual  circles,  and  that  large  amounts  were  constantly 
changing  hands  on  such  hazards.  And  it  may  be  remarked  that 
he  fully  believed  this  ;  for  there  is  a  simplicity  of  cunning  no 
less  than  a  simplicity  of  innocence  ;  and  in  all  matters  where 
a  lively  faith  in  knaver}^  and  meanness  was  required  as  the 
ground-work  of  belief,  Mr.  Jonas  was  one  of  the  most  credu- 
lous of  men.  His  ignorance,  which  was  stupendous,  may 
be  taken  into  account,  if  the  reader  pleases,  separately. 

This  fine  young  man  had  all  the  inclination  to  be  a  profli- 
gate of  the  first  waler,  and  only  lacked  the  one  good  trait  in 
the  common  catalogue  of  debauched  vices — open-handedness 
— to  be  a  notable  vagabond.  But  there  his  griping  and  pen- 
urious habits  stepped  in  ;  and  as  one  poison  will  sometimes 


I  go  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

neutralize  another,  when  wholesome  remedies  would  not  avail, 
so  he  was  restrained  by  a  bad  passion  from  quaffing  his  full 
measure  of  evil,  when  virtue  might  have  sought  to  hold  him 
back  in  vain. 

By  the  time  he  had  unfolded  all  the  peddling  schemes  he 
knew  upon  the  cards,  it  was  growing  late  in  the  evening ; 
and  Mr.  Pecksniff  not  making  his  appearance,  the  young 
ladies  expressed  a  wish  to  return  home.  But  this,  Mr.  Jonas, 
in  his  gallantry,  would  by  no  means  allow,  until  they  had  par- 
taken of  some  bread  and  cheese  and  porter  ;  and  even  then 
he  was  excessively  unwilling  to  allow  them  to  depart ;  often 
beseeching  Miss  Charity  to  come  a  little  closer,  or  to  stop  a 
little  longer,  and  preferring  many  other  complimentary  peti- 
tions of  that  nature,  in  his  own  hospitable  and  earnest  way. 
When  all  his  efforts  to  detain  them  were  fruitless,  he  put  on 
his  hat  and  great  coat  preparatory  to  escorting  them  to  Tod- 
gers's  \  remarking  that  he  knew  they  would  rather  walk  thither 
than  ride  \  and  that  for  his  part  he  was  quite  of  their  opinion. 

"Good-night,"  said  Anthony,  "Good-night;  remember 
me  to — ha,  ha,  ha  ! — to  Pecksniff.  Take  care  of  your  cousin, 
my  dears  ;  beware  of  Jonas  ;  he's  a  dangerous  fellow.  Don't 
quarrel  for  him,  in  any  case  !  " 

"  Oh,  the  creature  !  "  cried  Mercy.  "The  idea  of  quarrel- 
ling for  /«';;/  !  You  may  take  him,  Cherry,  my  love,  all  to  your- 
self.    I  make  you  a  present  of  my  share." 

"  What !     I'm  a  sour  grape,  am  I,  cousin  ?  "  said  Jonas. 

Miss  Charity  was  more  entertained  by  this  repartee  than 
one  would  have  supposed  likely,  considering  its  advanced  age 
and  simple  character.  But  in  her  sisterly  affection  she  took 
Mr.  Jonas  to  task  for  leaning  so  very  hard  upon  a  broken 
reed,  and  said  that  he  must  not  be  so  cruel  to  poor  Merr}'  any 
more,  or  she  (Charity)  would  positively  be  obliged  to  hate  him. 
Mercy,  who  really  had  her  share  of  good  humor,  only  retorted 
with  a  laugh  ;  and  they  walked  home  in  consequence  without 
any  angry  passage  of  words  upon  the  way.  Mr.  Jonas  being 
in  the  middle  and  having  a  cousin  on  each  arm,  sometimes 
squeezed  the  WTong  one ;  so  tightly  too,  as  to  cause  her  not  a 
little  inconvenience  ;  but  as  he  talked  to  Charity  in  whispers 
the  whole  time  and  paid  her  great  attention,  no  doubt  this 
was  an  accidental  circumstance.  When  they  arrived  at  Tod- 
gers's,  and  the  door  was  opened,  Mercy  broke  hastily  from 
them,  and  ran  up  stairs  ;  but  Charity  and  Jonas  lingered  on 
the  steps  talking  together  for  more  than  five  minutes ;  so,  as 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


191 


Mrs.  Todgers  observed  next  morning,  to  a  third  party,  "  It 
was  pretty  clear  what  was  going  on  there,  and  she  was  glad  of 
it,  for  it  really  was  high  time  Miss  Pecksniff  thought  of  set- 
tling." 

And  now  the  day  was  coming  on,  when  that  bright  vision 
which  had  burst  on  Todgers's  so  suddenly,  and  made  a  sun- 
shine in  the  shady  breast  of  Jinkins,  was  to  be  seen  no  more  ; 
when  it  was  to  be  packed,  like  a  brown  paper  parcel,  or  a  fish- 
basket,  or  an  oyster-barrel,  or  a  fat  gentleman,  or  any  other 
dull  reality  of  life,  in  a  stage-coach,  and  carried  down  into  the 
country  ! 

"  Never,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
when  they  retired  to  rest  on  the  last  night  of  their  stay  ; 
"  never  have  I  seen  an  establishment  so  perfectly  broken- 
hearted as  mine  Is  at  this  present  moment  of  time.'  I  don't 
believe  the  gentlemen  will  be  the  gentlemen  they  were,  or  any- 
thing like  it — no,  not  for  weeks  to  come.  You  have  a  great 
deal  to  answer  for;  both  of  you." 

They  modestly  disclaimed  any  wilful  agency  in  this  dis- 
astrous state  of  things,  and  regretted  it  veiy  much. 

"  Your  pious  Pa,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  There's  a 
loss  !  My  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,  your  Pa  is  a  perfect  mission- 
ary of  peace  and  love." 

Entertaining  an  uncertainty  as  to  the  particular  kind  of 
love  supposed  to  be  comprised  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mission,  the 
young  ladies  received  the  compliment  rather  coldly. 

"  If  I  dared,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  perceiving  this,  "  to  vio- 
late a  confidence  which  has  been  reposed  in  me,  and  to  tell 
you  why  I  must  beg  of  you  to  leave  the  little  door  between 
your  room  and  mine  open  to-night,  I  think  you  would  be  in- 
terested. But  I  musn't  do  it,  for  I  promised  Mr.  Jinkins 
faithfully,  that  I  would  be  as  silent  as  the  tomb." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Todgers  !     What  can  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why  then,  my  sweet  Miss  lY'cksniffs,"  said  the  lady  of 
the  house  ;  "my  own  loves,  if  you  will  allow  mc  the  privilege 
of  taking  that  freedom  on  the  eve  of  our  separation,  Mr.  Jin- 
kins and  the  gentlemen  have  made  up  a  little  musical  parly 
among  themselves,  and  do  intend,  in  the  dead  of  this  night  to 
perform  a  serenade  upon  the  stairs  outside  the  door.  I  could 
have  wished,  I  own,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  her  usual  fore- 
sight, "  that  it  had  been  fixed  to  take  place  an  hour  or  two 
earlier;  because,  when  gentlemen  sit  up  late,  they  drink,  and 
when  they  drink,  they're  not  so  musical  perhaps,  as  when  they 


1^2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

don't.  But  this  is  the  arrangement ;  and  I  know  you  will  be 
gratified,  my  dear  ]\Iiss  Pecksniffs,  by  such  a  mark  of  their 
attention." 

The  young  ladies  were  at  first  so  much  excited  by  the 
news,  that  they  vowed  they  couldn't  think  of  going  to  bed,  un- 
til the  serenade  was  over.  But  half  an  hour  of  cool  waiting; 
so  altered  their  opmion  that  they  not  only  went  to  bed,  but 
fell  asleep  ;  and  were  moreover  not  ecstatically  charmed  to  be 
awakened  some  time  afterwards  by  certain  dulcet  strains 
breaking  in  upon  the  silent  watches  of  the  night. 

It  was  very  effecting,  veiy.  Nothing  more  dismal  could 
have  been  desired  bv  the  most  fastidious  taste.  The  gentle- 
man  of  a  vocal  turn  was  head  mute,  or  chief  mourner  ;  Jin- 
kins  took  the  bass  ;  and  the  rest  took  anything  they  could  get. 
The  youngest  gentleman  blew  his  melancholy  into  a  flute.  He 
didn't  blow  much  out  of  it,  but  that  was  all  the  better.  If  the 
two  Miss  Pecksniffs  and  Mrs.  Todgers  had  perished  by  spon- 
taneous combustion,  and  the  serenade  had  been  in  honor  of 
their  ashes,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  surpass  the  un- 
utterable despair  expressed  in  that  one  chorus,  "  Go  where 
glory  waits  thee  !  "  It  was  a  requiem,  a  dirge,  a  moan,  a 
howl,  a  wail,  a  lament,  an  abstract  of  everything  that  is  sor- 
rowful and  hideous  in  sound.  The  flute  of  the  youngest 
gentleman  was  wild  and  fitful.  It  came  and  went  in  gusts, 
like  the  wind.  For  a  long  time  together  he  seemed  to  have 
left  off,  and  when  it  was  quite  settled  by  Mrs.  Todgers  and 
the  young  ladies,  that,  overcome  by  his  feelings,  he  had  retired 
in  tears,  he  unexpectedly  turned  up  again  at  the  \qx\  top  of 
the  tune,  gasping  for  breath.  He  was  a  tremendous  performer. 
There  was  no  knowuig  where  to  ha\e  him ;  and  exactly  when 
you  thought  he  was  doing  nothing  at  all,  then  was  he  doing 
the  very  thing  that  ought  to  astonish  you  most. 

There  were  several  of  these  concerted  pieces  ;  perhaps 
two  or  three  too  many,  though  that,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  said,  was 
a  fault  on  the  right  side.  But  even  then,  even  at  that  solemn 
moment,  when  the  thrilling  sounds  may  be  presumed  to  have 
penetrated  into  the  very  depths  of  his  nature,  if  he  had  any 
depths,  Jinkins  couldn't  leave  the  youngest  gentleman  alone. 
Pie  asked  him  distinctly,  before  the  second  song  began — as  a 
personal  favor  too,  mark  the  villain  in  that — not  to  play. 
Yes  ;  he  said  so  ;  not  to  play.  The  breathing  of  the  youngest 
gentleman  was  heard  through  the  key-hole  of  the  door.  He 
didn't  play.     What  vent  was  a  flute  for  the  passions  swelling 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  1 93 

up  within  his  breast  ?     A  trombone  would  have  been  a  world 
too  mild. 

The  serenade  approached  its  close.  Its  crowning  interest 
was  at  hand.  The  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn  had  written  a 
song  on  the  departure  of  the  ladies,  and  adapted  it  to  an  old 
tune.  They  all  joined,  except  the  youngest  gentleman  in 
company,  who,  for  the  reasons  aforesaid,  maintained  a  fearful 
silence.  The  song  (which  was  of  a  classical  nature)  invoked 
the  oracle  of  Apollo,  and  demanded  to  know  what  would  be- 
come of  Todgers's  when  Charity  and  Mercy  were  banished 
from  its  walls.  The  oracle  delivered  no  opinion  particularly 
worth  remembering,  according  to  the  not  infrequent  practice 
of  oracles  from  the  earliest  ages  down  to  the  present  time.  In 
the  absence  of  enjightenment  on  that  subject,  the  strain  de- 
serted it,  and  went  on  to  show  that  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  were 
nearly  related  to  Rule  Britannia,  and  that  if  Great  Britain 
hadn't  been  an  island,  there  could  have  been  no  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs.    And  being  now  on  a  nautical  tack,  it  closed  with  this 


verse ; 


"  All  hail  to  tlie  vessel  of  Pecksniff  the  sire  ! 
And  favoring  breezes  to  fan  ; 
While  Tritons  flock  round  it,  and  proudly  admire 
The  architect,  artist,  and  man  !  " 

As  they  presented  this  beautiful  picture  to  the  imagination, 
the  gentlemen  gradually  withdrew  to  bed  to  give  the  music 
the  effect  of  distance  ;  and  so  it  died  away,  and  Todgers's  was 
left  to  its  repose. 

Mr.  Bailey  reserved  his  vocal  offering  until  the  morning, 
when  he  put  his  head  into  the  room  as  the  young  ladies  were 
kneeling  before  their  trunks,  packing  up,  and  treated  them  to 
an  imitation  of  the  voice  of  a  young  dog,  in  trying  circum- 
stances :  when  that  animal  is  supposed  by  persons  of  a  lively 
fancy,  to  relieve  his  feelings  by  calling  for  pen  and  ink. 

"  Well,  young  ladies,"  said  the  }'outh,  "  so  you're  agoing 
home,  are  you,  worse  luck  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Bailey,  we're  going  home,"  returned  Mercy. 

"A'nt  you  a  going  to  leave  none  of  'em  a  lock  of  your 
hair  ?  "  inquired  the  youth.     "  It's  real,  a'nt  it  ?  " 

They  laughed  at  this,  and  told  him  of  course  it  was. 

"  Oh  is  it  of  course  though  ?  "  said  Bailey.  "  I  know  better 
than  that.  Hers  an't.  Why,  I  see  it  hanging  up  once,  on 
that  nail  by  the  winder.  Besides,  I  have  gone  behind  her  at 
dinner-time    and  pulled   it  ;  and  she  never   know'd.      I   say, 

^3 


194 


MARTIN  CHUZZLFAVIT. 


young  ladies,  I'm  a  going  to  leave.     I  ain't  a  going  to  stand 
being  called  names  by  her,  no  longer." 

Miss  Mercy  inquired  what  his  plans  for  the  future  might 
be  ;  in  reply  to  whom,  Mr.  Bailey  intimated  that  he  thought 
of  going,  either  into  top-boots,  or  into  the  army. 

"  Into  the  army  !  "  cried  the  young  ladies,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Bailey,  "why  not?  There's  a  many  drum- 
mers in  the  Tower.  I'm  acquainted  with  'em.  Don't  their 
country  set  a  valley  on  'em,  mind  you  !     Not  at  all  !  " 

"You'll  be  shot,  I  see,"  observed  Mercy. 

"  Well  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  "  Wot  if  I  am  ?  There's  some- 
thing gamey  in  it,  young  ladies,  a'nt  there  ?  I'd  sooner  be  hit 
with  a  connon-ball  than  a  rolling  pin,  and  she's  always  a 
catching  up  something  of  that  sort,  and  throwing  it  at  me,  wen 
the  gentlemans  appetites  is  good.  Wot,"  said  Mr.  Bailey, 
stung  by  the  recollection  of  his  wrongs,  "  wot,  if  they  do  con- 
sume the  per-vishuns.     It  an't  m'  fault,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Surely  no  one  says  it  is,"  said  Mercy. 

"Don't  they  though  ?"  retorted  the  youth.  "No.  Yes. 
Ah  !  Oh  !  No  one  mayn't  say  it  is  !  but  some  one  knows  it 
is.  But  I  an't  a  going  to  have  every  rise  in  prices  wisited  on 
me.  I  an't  a  going  to  be  killed,  because  the  markets  is  dear. 
I  won't  stop.  And  therefore,"  added  Mr.  Bailey,  relenting 
into  a  smile,  "  wotever  yQu  mean  to  giv^e  me,  you'd  better  give 
me  all  at  once,  becos  if  ever  you  come  back  agin,  I  shan't  be 
here ;  and  as  to  the  other  boy,  he  won't  deserve  nothing,  / 
know." 

The  young  ladies,  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  them- 
selves, acted  on  this  thoughtful  advice  ;  and  in  consideration 
of  their  private  friendship,  presented  Mr.  Bailey  w*ith  a  gratu- 
ity so  liberal,  that  he  could  hardly  do  enough  to  show  his 
gratitude  ;  which  found  but  an  imperfect  vent,  during  the 
remainder  of  the  day,  in  divers  secret  slaps  upon  his  pocket, 
and  other  such  facetious  pantomime.  Nor  was  it  contined  to 
these  ebullitions  ;  for  besides  crushing  a  bandbox,  with  a 
bonnet  in  it,  he  seriously  damaged  Mr.  Pecksniff's  luggage, 
by  ardently  hauling  it  down  from  the  top  of  the  house  ;  and 
in  short  evinced,  by  every  means  in  his  jDower,  a  lively  sense 
of  the  favors  he  had  received  from  that  gentleman  and  his 
family. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  and  Mr.  Jinkins  came  home  to  dinner,  arm- 
in-arm  ;  for  the  latter  gentleman  had  made  half-holiday,  on 
purpose  ;  thus  gaining  an  immense  advantage  over  the  young- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


'95 


est  gentleman  and  the  rest,  whose  time,  as  it  perversely 
chanced,  was  all  bespoke,  until  the  evening.  The  bottle  of 
wine  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's  treat,  and  they  were  very  sociable 
indeed  ;  though  full  of  lamentations  on  the  necessity  of  part- 
ing. VVhile  they  were  in  the  midst  of  their  enjoyment,  old 
Anthony  and  his  son  were  announced  ;  much  to  the  surprise 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  greatly  to  the  discomfiture  of  Jinkins. 

"Come  to  say  good  bye,  you  see,"  said  Anthony,  in  a  low 
voice,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  they  took  their  seats  apart  at  the 
table,  while  the  rest  conversed  among  themselves.  "  Where's 
the  use  of  a  division  between  you  and  me  ?  VVe  are  the  two 
halves  of  a  pair  of  scissors,  when  apart,  Pecksniff ;  but  to- 
gether we  are  something.     Eh  .''  " 

"  Unanimity,  .my  good  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is 
always  delightful." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  old  man,  "  for  there 
are  some  people  I  would  rather  differ  from  than  agree  with. 
But  you  know  my  opinion  of  you." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  still  having  "  Hypocrite  "  in  his  mind,  only 
replied' by  a  motion  of  his  head,  which  was  something  between 
an  affirmative  bow,  and  a  negative  shake. 

"  Complimentary,"  said  Anthony.  "  Complimentary,  upon 
my  word.  It  was  an  involuntar}'  tribute  to  your  abilities,  even 
at  the  time  ;  and  it  was  not  a  time  to  suggest  compliments 
either.  But  we  agreed  in  the  coach,  you  know,  that  we  quite 
understood  each  other." 

"  Oh,  quite  !  "  assented  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  manner  which 
implied  that  he  himself  was  misunderstood  most  cruelly,  but 
would  not  complain. 

Anthony  glanced  at  his  son  as  he  sat  besides  Miss  Charity, 
and  then  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  then  at  his  son  again,  very 
many  times.  It  happened  that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  glances  took 
a  similar  direction ;  but  when  he  became  aware  of  it,  he  first 
cast  down  his  eyes,  and  then  closed  them  ;  as  if  he  were  de- 
termined that  the  old  man  should  read  nothing  there. 

"Jonas  is  a  shrewd  lad,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  He  appears,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  his  most  candid 
manner,  "to  be  very  shrewd." 

"And  careful,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  And  careful,  I  have  no  doul)t,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Lookye  !  "  said  Anthony  in  his  ear.  "  1  think  he  is  sweet 
upon  your  daughter." 

"  Tut,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  his  eyes  still 


ig6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

closed  ;  "  young  people,  young  people.  A  kind  of  cousins, 
too.     No  more  sweetness  than  is  in  that,  sir." 

"  Why,  there  is  very  little  sweetness  in  that,  according  to 
our  experience,"  returned  Anthony,  "  Isn't  there  a  trifle 
more  here .-' " 

"  Impossible  to  say,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Quite  im- 
possible !     You  surprise  me." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  old  man,  dr}-ly.  "  It  may 
last  \  I  mean  the  sweetness,  not  the  surprise  ;  and  it  may  die 
off.  Supposing  it  should  last,  perhaps  (you  having  feathered 
your  nest  pretty  well,  and  I  having  done  the  same)  we  might 
have  a  mutual  interest  in  the  matter." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  gently,  was  about  to  speak,  but 
Anthony  stopped  him. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  It's  quite  unneces- 
sary. You  have  never  thought  of  this  for  a  moment  ;  and  in 
a  point  so  nearly  affecting  the  happiness  of  your  dear  child, 
you  couldn't  as  a  tender  father,  express  an  opinion ;  and  so 
forth.  Yes,  quite  right.  And  like  you !  But  it  seems  to  me, 
my  dear  Pecksniff,"  added  Anthony,  laying  his  hand  upon  his 
sleeve,  "  that  if  you  and  I  kept  up  the  joke  of  pretending  not 
to  see  this,  one  of  us  might  possibly  be  placed  in  a  position  of 
disadvantage  ;  and  as  I  am  very  unwilling  to  be  that  party 
myself,  you  will  excuse  my  taking  the  liberty  of  putting  the 
matter  beyond  a  doubt,  thus  early  ;  and  having  it  distinctly 
understood,  as  it  is  now,  that  we  do  see  it,  and  do  know  it. 
Thank  you  for  your  attention.  We  are  now  upon  an  equal 
footing  :  which  is  agreeable  to  us  both,  I  am  sure." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke  ;  and  giving  Mr.  Pecksniff  a  nod  of 
intelligence,  moved  away  from  him  to  where  the  young  people 
were  sitting  :  leaving  that  good  man  somewhat  puzzled  and 
discomfited  by  such  ver)'  plain  dealing,  and  not  quite  free 
from  a  sense  of  having  been  foiled  in  the  exercise  of  his 
familiar  weapons. 

But  the  night-coach  had  a  punctual  character,  and  it  was 
time  to  join  it  at  the  office  ;  which  was  so  near  at  hand,  that 
they  had  already  sent  their  luggage,  and  arranged  to  walk. 
Thither  the  whole  party  repaired,  therefore,  after  no  more  de- 
lay than  sufficed  for  the  equipment  of  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  and 
Mrs.  Todgers.  They  found  the  coach  already  at  its  starting- 
place,  and  the  Horses  in  ;  there,  too,  were  a  large  majority  of 
the  commercial  gentlemen,  including  the  youngest,  who  was 
visibly  agitated,  and  in  a  state  of  deep  mental  dejection. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  197 

Nothing  could  equal  the  distress  of  Mrs.  Todgers  in 
parting  from  the  young  ladies,  except  the  strong  emotions  with 
which  she  bade  adieu  to  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Never  surely  was  a 
pocket-handkerchief  taken  in  and  out  of  a  flat  reticule  so  often 
as  Mrs.  Todgers's  was,  as  she  stood  upon  the  pavement  by 
the  coach-door,  supported  on  either  side  by  a  commercial 
gentleman  :  and  by  the  light  of  the  coach-lamps  caught  such 
brief  snatches  and  glimpses  of  the  good  man's  face,  as  the 
constant  interposition  of  Mr.  Jinkins  allowed.  For  Jinkins, 
to  the  last  the  youngest  gentleman's  rock  a-head  in  life,  stood 
upon  the  coach-step  talking  to  the  ladies.  Upon  the  other 
step  was  Mr.  Jonas,  who  maintained  that  position  in  right  of 
his  cousinship;  whereas  the  youngest  gentleman,  who  had 
been  first  upon  1,he  ground,  was  deep  in  the  booking-office 
among  the  black  and  red  placards,  and  the  portraits  of  fast 
coaches,  where  he  was  ignominiously  harassed  by  porters,  and 
had  to  contend  and  strive  perpetually  with  hea\-y  baggage. 
This  false  position,  combined  with  his  nervous  excitement, 
brought  about  the  very  consummation  and  catastrophe  of  his 
miseries  ;  for  when  in  the  moment  of  parting,  he  aimed  a 
flower,  a  hot-house  flower,  that  had  cost  money,  at  tlie  fair 
hand  of  Mercy,  it  reached,  instead,  the  coachman  on  the  box, 
who  thanked  him  kind]}^  and  stuck  it  in  his  button-hole. 

They  were  off  now  ;  and  Todgers's  was  alone  again.  The 
two  young  ladies,  leaning  back  in  their  separate  corners,  re- 
signed themselves  to  their  own  regretful  thoughts.  Rut  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  dismissing  all  ephemeral  considerations  of  social 
pleasure  and  enjoyment,  concentrated  his  meditations  on  the 
one  great  virtuous  purpose  before  him,  of  casting  out  that 
ingrate  and  deceiver,  whose  presence  yet  troubled  his  domestic 
hearth,  and  was  a  sacrilege  upon  the  altars  of  his  household 
gods. 


198 


MARTIN  cnrzzLEivir. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WILL  BE  SEEN  IN  THE  LONG  RUN,  IF  NOT  IN  THE  SHORT 
ONE,  TO  CONCERN  MR.  PINCH  AND  OTHERS,  NEARLY. 
MR.  PECKSNIFF  ASSERTS  THE  DIGNITY  OF  OUTRAGED  VIR- 
TUE. YOUNG  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT  FORMS  A  DESPERATE 
RESOLUTION. 

Mr.  Pinch  and  Martin,  little  dreaming  of  the  stormy  wea- 
ther that  impended,  made  themselves  very  comfortable  in  the 
Pecksniffian  halls,  and  improved  their  friendship  daily.  Mar- 
tin's facility,  both  of  invention  and  execution,  being  remarka- 
ble, the  grammar-school  proceeded  with  great  vigor  ;  and  Tom 
repeatedly  declared,  that  if  there  were  anything  like  certainty 
in  human  affairs,  or  impartiality  in  human  judges,  a  design  so 
new  and  full  of  merit  could  not  fail  to  carry  off  the  first  prize 
when  the  time  of  competition  arrived.  Without  being  quite 
SO  sanguine  himself,  Martin  had  his  hopeful  anticipations  too  ; 
and  they  served  to  make  him  brisk  and  eager  at  his  task. 

"If  I  should  turn  out  a  great  architect,  Tom,"  said  the 
new  pupil  one  day,  as  he  stood  at  a  little  distance  from  his 
drawing,  and  eyed  it  with  much  complacency,  "  I'll  tell  you 
what  should  be  one  of  the  things  I'd  build." 

"  Ay  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  What  ?  " 

"  Why,  your  fortune." 

"  No  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  quite  as  much  delighted  as  if 
the  thing  were  done.  "  W'ould  you  though  .-'  How  kind  of 
you  to  say  so." 

"  I'd  build  it  up,  Tom,"  returned  Martin,  "  on  such  a  strong 
foundation,  that  it  should  last  your  life — ay,  and  your  chil- 
dren's lives  too,  and  their  children's  after  them.  I'd  be  your 
patron,  Tom.  I'd  take  you  under  my  protection.  Let  me  see 
the  man  who  should  give  the  cold  shoulder  to  anybody  I 
chose  to  protect  and  patronize,  if  I  were  at  the  top  of  the  tree, 
Tom  !  " 

"Now,  I  don't  think,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "upon  my  word, 
that  I  was  ever  more  gratified  than  by  this.     I  really  don't." 

"  Oh  !  I  mean  what  I  say,"  retorted  Martin,  with  a  man- 
ner as  free  and  easy  in  its  condescension  to,  not  to  say  in  its 
compassion  for,  the  other,  as  if  he  were  alread}-  First  Architect 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


199 


in  Ordinary  to  all  the  Crowned  Heads  in  Europe.  "  I'd  do  it. 
I'd  provide  for  you." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  head,  "  that  I  should 
be  a  mighty  awkward  person  to  provide  for." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  rejoined  Martin.  "  Never  mind  that.  If 
I  took  it  in  my  head  to  say,  '  Pinch  is  a  clever  fellow  \  I  ap- 
prove of  Pinch  ; '  I  should  like  to  know  the  man  who  would 
venture  to  put  himself  in  opposition  to  me.  Besides,  con- 
found it,  Tom,  you  could  be  useful  to  me  in  a  hundred 
ways." 

"  If  I  were  not  useful  in  one  or  two,  it  shouldn't  be  for 
want  of  trying,"  said  Tom. 

"  For  instance,"  pursued  Martin,  after  a  short  reflection, 
"  you'd  be  a  capital  fellow,  now,  to  see  that  my  ideas  were 
properly  carried  out ;  and  to  overlook  the  works  in  their  pro- 
gress before  they  were  sufficiently  advanced  to  be  very  inter- 
esting to  me ;  and  to  take  all  that  sort  of  plain  sailmg.  Then 
you'd  be  a  splendid  fellow  to  show  people  over  my  studio,  and 
to  talk  about  Art  to  'em  when  I  couldn't  be  bored  myself,  and 
all  that  kind  of  thing.  For  it  would  be  devilish  creditable, 
Tom  (I'm  quite  in  earnest,  I  give  you  my  word),  to  have  a 
man  of  your  information  about  one,  instead  of  some  ordinary 
blockhead.  Oh,  I'd  take  care  of  you.  You'd  be  useful,  rely 
upon  it !  " 

To  say  that  Tom  had  no  idea  of  playing  first  fiddle  in  any 
social  orchestra,  but  was  always  quite  satisfied  to  be  set  down 
for  the  hundred  and  fiftieth  violin  in  the  band,  or  thereabouts, 
is  to  express  his  modesty  in  very  inadequate  terms.  He  was 
much  delighted,  therefore,  by  these  observations. 

"  I  should  be  married  to  her  then,  Tom,  of  course,"  said 
Martin. 

What  was  that  which  checked  Tom  Pinch  so  suddenly,  in 
the  high  flow  of  his  gladness  :  bringing  the  blood  into  his 
honest  cheeks,  and  a  remorseful  feeling  to  his  honest  heart,  as 
if  he  were  unworthy  of  his  friend's  regard  ? 

"  I  should  be  married  to  her  then,"  said  Martin,  looking 
with  a  smile  towards  the  light :  "  and  we  should  have,  I  hope, 
children  about  us.     They'd  be  very  fond  of  you,  Tom." 

But  not  a  word  said  Mr.  Pinch.  The  words  he  would  have 
uttered,  died  upon  his  lips,  and  found  a  life  more  spirtual  in 
self-denying  thoughts. 

"All  the  children  hereabouts  arc  fond  of  you,  Tom,  and 
mine  would  be,  of  course,"  pursued  Martin.       "  Perhaps    I 


2  00  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

might  name  one  of  'em  after  you.  Tom,  eh  ?  Well,  I  don't 
know.  Tom's  not  a  bad  name.  Thomas  Pinch  Chuzzlewit. 
T.  P.  C.  on  his  pinafores.  No  objection  to  that,  I  should 
sav." 

Tom  cleared  his  throat,  and  smiled. 

"  She  would  like  you,  Tom,  1  know,"  said  Martin. 

"  Aye  !  "  cried  Tom  Pinch,  faintly. 

"I  can  tell  exactly  what  she  would  think  of  you,"  said 
Martin,  leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and  looking  through 
the  window-glass  as  if  he  read  there  what  he  said  ;  "  J  know 
her  so  well.  She  would  smile,  Tom,  often  at  first  when  you 
spoke  to  her,  or  when  she  looked  at  you — merrily  too — but  you 
wouldn't  mind  that.     A  brighter  smile  you  never  saw." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom.     "  I  wouldn't  mind  that." 

"She  would  be  as  tender  with  you,  Tom,"  said  Martin, 
*'  as  if  you  were  a  child  yourself.  So  you  are  almost,  in  some 
things,  an't  you,  Tom  1  " 

Mr.  Pinch  nodded  his  entire  assent. 

"  She  would  always  be  kind  and  good-humored,  and  glad 
to  see  you,"  said  Martin  ;  "  and  when  she  found  out  exactly 
what  sort  of  fellow  you  were  (which  she'd  do,  very  soon;,  she 
would  pretend  to  give  you  little  commissions  to  execute,  and 
to  ask  little  services  of  you,  which  she  knew  you  were  burning 
to  render  ;  so  that  when  she  really  pleased  you  most,  she 
would  try  to  make  you  think  you  most  pleased  her.  She  would 
take  to  you  uncommonly,  Tom  ;  and  would  understand  you 
far  more  delicately  than  I  ever  shall  ;  and  would  often  say,  I 
know,  that  you  were  a  harmless,  gentle,  well-intentioned,  good 
fellow." 

How  silent  Tom  Pinch  was  ! 

"  In  honor  of  old  times,"  said  Martin,  "  and  of  her  having 
heard  you  play  the  organ  in  this  damp  little  church  down  here 
— for  nothing  too — we  will  have  one  in  the  house.  I  shall 
build  an  architectural  music-room  on  a  plan  of  my  own,  and 
it'll  look  rather  knowing  in  a  recess  at  one  end.  There  you 
shall  play  away,  Tom,  till  you  tire  yourself ;  and,  as  you  like 
to  do  so  in  the  dark,  it  shall  h'  dark  ;  and  many's  the  summer 
evening  she  and  I  will  sit  and  listen  to  you,  Tom  ;  be  sure  of 
that !  " 

It  may  have  required  a  stronger  effort  on  Tom  Pinch's  part 
to  leave  the  seat  on  which  he  sat,  and  shake  his  friend  by  both 
hands,  with  nothing  but  serenity  and  grateful  feehng  painted 
on  his  face ;  it  may  have  required  a  stronger  effort  to  perform 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  20i 

this  simple  act  with  a  pure  heart,  than  to  achieve  many  and 
many  a  deed  to  which  the  douI:)tful  trumpet  l)lown  by  Fame 
has  lustily  resounded.  Doubtful,  because  from  its  long  hover- 
ing over  scenes  of  violence,  the  smoke  and  steam  of  death 
have  clogged  the  keys  of  that  brave  instrvmient ;  and  it  is  not 
always  that  its  notes  are  either  true  or  tuneful. 

"It's  a  proof  of  the  kindness  of  human  nature,"  said  Tom, 
characteristically  putting  himself  quite  out  of  sight  in  the  mat- 
ter, "  that  everybody  who  comes  here,  as  you  have  done,  is 
more  considerate  and  affectionate  to  me  than  I  should  have 
any  right  to  hope,  if  1  were  the  most  sanguine  creature  in  the 
world ;  or  should  have  any  power  to  express,  if  I  were  the 
most  eloquent.  It  really  overpowers  me.  But  trust  me,"  said 
Tom,  "  that  I  am  not  ungrateful  ;  that  I  never  forget  ;  and 
that,  if  I  can  ever  prove  the  truth  of  my  words  to  you,  I  will." 

"  That's  all  right,"  observed  Martin,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  with  a  hand  in  each  pocket,  and  yawning  drearily.  "  Very 
fine  talking,  Tom  ;  but  I'm  at  Pecksniff's,  I  remember,  and 
perhaps  a  mile  or  so  out  of  the  high-road  to  fortune  just  at 
this  minute.  So  you've  heard  again  this  morning  from  what's 
his  name,  eh  ?  " 

"  Who  may  that  be  ?  "  asked  Tom,  seeming  to  enter  a  mild 
protest  on  behalf  of  the  dignity  of  an  absent  person. 

"  You  know.     What  is'it  ?     Northkey." 

"  Westlock,"  rejoined  Tom,  in  rather  a  louder  tone  than 
usual. 

"  Ah  !  to  be  sure,"  said  Martin,  "  Westlock.  I  knew  it 
was  something  connected  with  a  point  of  the  compass  and  a 
door.     Well  !  and  what  says  Westlock  ?  " 

"  Oh !  he  has  come  into  his  property,"  answered  Tom, 
nodding  his  head,  and  smiling. 

"  He's  a  lucky  dog,"  said  Martin.  "  I  wish  it  were  mine 
instead.     Is  that  all  the  mystery  you  were  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Tom:  not  all." 

"  What's  the  rest  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Tom,  "  it's  no  mystery,  and 
you  won't  think  much  of  it ;  but  it's  veiy  pleasant  to  me. 
John  always  used  to  say  when  he  was  here,  '  Mark  my  words, 
Pinch.  When  my  father's  executors  cash  up  ' — he  used  strange 
expressions  now  and  then,  but  that  was  his  way." 

"  Cash-up's  a  very  good  expression,"  observed  Martin, 
"when  other  people  don't  apply  it  to  you.  Well?  What  a 
slow  fellow  you  are,  Pinch  ! '' 


202  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Yes,  I  am  I  know,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  you'll  make  me 
nervous  if  you  tell  me  so.  I'm  afraid  you  have  put  me  out  a 
little  now,  for  I  forget  what  I  was  going  to  say." 

"  When  John's  father's  executors  cashed  up,"  said  Martin 
impatiently. 

"Oh  yes,  to  be  sure,"  cried  Tom;  "yes.  'Then,'  says 
John,  '  I'll  give  you  a  dinner,  Pinch,  and  come  down  to  Salis- 
bury on  purpose.'  Now,  when  John  wrote  the  other  day — 
the  morning  Pecksniff  left,  you  know — he  said  his  business 
was  on  the  point  of  being  immediately  settled,  and  as  he  was 
to  receive  his  money  directly,  when  could  I  meet  him  at  Salis- 
bury- }  I  wrote  and  said,  any  day  this  week  ;  and  I  told  him 
besides,  that  there  was  a  new  pupil  here,  and  what  a  fine 
fellow  you  were,  and  what  friends  we  had  become.  Upon 
which  John  writes  back  this  letter  " — Tom  produced  it — "fixes 
to-morrow ;  sends  his  compliments  to  you ;  and  begs  that  we 
three  may  have  the  pleasure  of  dining  together;  not  at  the 
house  where  you  and  I  were,  either  ;  but  at  the  very  first  hotel 
in  the  town.     Read  what  he  says." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Martin,  glancing  over  it  with  his  cus- 
tomary coolness  :  "  much  obliged  to  him.     Vm  agreeable.' ' 

Tom  could  have  wished  him  to  be  a  little  more  astonished, 
a  little  more  pleased,  or  in  some  form  or  other  a  little  more 
interested  m  such  a  great  event.  But  he  was  perfectly  self- 
possessed  :  and  falling  into  his  favorite  solace  of  whistling, 
took  another  turn  at  the  grammar-school,  as  if  nothing  at  all 
had  happened. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  horse  being  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  sacred 
animal,  only  to  be  driven  by  him,  the  chief  priest  of  that  temple, 
or  by  some  person  distinctly  nominated  for  the  time  being  to 
that  high  office  by  himself,  the  two  young  men  agreed  to  walk 
to  Salisbury  ;  and  so,  when  the  time  came,  they  set  off  on 
foot ;  which  was,  after  all,  a  better  mode  of  travelling  than  in 
the  gig,  as  the  weather  was  very  cold  and  very  dry. 

Better !  A  rare  strong,  hearty,  healthy  walk — four  statute 
miles  an  hour — preferable  to  that  rumbling,  tumbling,  jolting, 
shaking,  scraping,  creaking,  villanous  old  gig  1  Why,  the  two 
things  "will  not  admit  of  comparison.  It  is  an  insult  to  the 
walk,  to  set  them  side  by  side.  Where  is  an  instance  of  a  gig 
having  ever  circulated  a  man's  blood,  unless  wnen,  putting  him 
in  danger  of  his  neck,  it  awakened  in  his  veins  and  in  his  ears, 
and  all  along  his  spine,  a  tingling  heat,  much  more  peculiar 
than  agreeable  ?     When  did  a  gig  ever  sharpen  anybody's  wits 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZL E  WIT.  2 03 

and  energies,  unless  it  was  when  the  horse  bolted,  and,  crash- 
ing madly  down  a  steep  hill  with  a  stone  wall  at  the  bottom, 
his  desperate  circumstances  suggested  to  the  onl}^  gentleman 
left  inside,  some  novel  and  unheard-of  mode  of  dropping  out 
behind  ?     Better  than  the  gig  ! 

The  air  was  cold,  Tom  ;  so  it  was,  there  was  no  denying 
it ;  but  would  it  have  been  more  genial  in  the  gig  ?  The  black- 
smith's fire  burned  very  brignt,  and  leaped  up  high,  as  though 
it  wanted  men  to  warm  ;  but  would  it  have  been  less  tempting, 
looked  at  from  the  clantmy  cushions  of  a  gig  ?  The  wind  blew 
keenly,  nipping  the  features  of  the  hardy  wight  who  fought  his 
way  along  ;  blinding  him  with  his  own  hair  if  he  had  enough 
of  it,  and  wintry  dust  if  he  hadn't  ;  stopping  his  breath  as 
though  he  had  b,een  soused  in  a  cold  bath  ;  tearing  aside  his 
wrappings-up,  and  whistling  m  the  ver\'  marrow  of  his  bones  \ 
but  it  would  have  done  all  this  a  hundred  times  more  fiercely 
to  a  man  in  a  gig,  wouldn't  it  ?    A  fig  for  gigs  ! 

Better  than  the  gig  !  When  were  travellers  by  wheels  and 
hoofs  seen  with  such  red-hot  cheeks  as  those  ?  when  were 
they  so  good  humoredly  and  merrily  bloused  ?  when  did  their 
laughter  ring  upon  the  air,  as  they  turned  them  round,  what 
time  the  stronger  gviests  came  sweeping  up  ;  and,  facing  round 
again  as  they  passed  by,  dashed  on,  in  such  a  glow  of  ruddy 
health  as  nothing  could  keep  pace  with,  but  the  high 
spirits  it  engendered  ?  Better  than  the  gig !  Why,  here  is  a 
man  in  a  gig  coming  the  same  way  now.  Look  at  him  as  he 
passes  his  whip  into  his  left  hand,  chafes  his  numbed  right 
fingers  on  his  granite  leg,  and  beats  those  marble  toes  of  his 
upon  the  foot-board.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Who  would  exchange  this 
rapid  hurry  of  the  blood  for  yonder  stagnant  misery,  though 
its  pace  were  twenty  miles  for  one  ? 

Better  than  the  gig !  No  man  in  a  gig  could  have  such 
interest  in  the  milestones.  No  man  in  a  gig  could  see,  or 
feel,  or  think,  like  merry  users  of  their  legs.  How,  as  the 
wind  sweeps  on,  upon  these  breezy  downs,  it  tracks  its  flight 
in  darkening  ripples  on  the  grass,  and  smoothest  shadows  on 
the  hills  !  Look  round  and  round  upon  this  bare  bleak  plain, 
and  see  even  here,  upon  a  winter's  day,  how  beautiful  the 
shadows  are  !  x^las  !  it  is  the  nature  of  their  kind  to  be  so. 
The  loveliest  things  in  life,  Tom.  are  but  shadows  ;  and  they 
come  and  go,  and  change  and  fade  away,  as  rapidly  as  these  ! 

Another  mile,  and  then  begins  a  fall  of  snow,  making  the 
crow,  who  skims  away  so  close  above  the  ground  to  shirk  the 


2  04  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

wind,  a  blot  of  ink  upon  tlie  landscape.  But  though  it  drives 
and  drifts  against  them  as  they  walk,  stiffening  on  their  skirts, 
and  freezing  in  the  lashes  of  their  eyes,  they  wouldn't  have  it 
fall  more  sparingly,  no,  not  so  much  as  by  a  single  flake,  al- 
though they  had  to  go  a  score  of  miles.  And,  lo  !  the  towers 
of  the  Old  Cathedral  rise  before  them,  even  now  !  and  by  and 
by  they  come  into  the  sheltered  streets,  made  strangely  silent 
by  their  white  carpet  ;  and  so  to  the  Inn  for  which  they  are 
bound  ;  where  they  present  such  flushed  and  burning  faces  to 
the  cold  waiter,  and  are  so  brimful  6f  vigor,  that  he  almost 
feels  assaulted  by  their  presence  ;  and,  having  nothing  to  op- 
pose to  the  attack  (being  fresh,  or  rather  stale,  from  the 
blazing  fire  in  the  coffee-room),  is  quite  put  out  of  his  pale 
countenance. 

A  famous  Inn !  the  hall  a  very  grove  of  dead  game,  and 
dangling  joints  of  mutton  ;  and  in  one  corner  an  illustrious 
larder,  with  glass  doors,  developing  cold  fowls  and  noble  joints, 
and  tarts  wherein  the  raspberr\'  jam  coyly  withdrew  itself,  as 
such  a  precious  creature  should,  behind  a  lattice  work  of  pastry. 
And  behold,  on  the  first  floor,  at  the  court-end  of  the  house, 
in  a  room  with  all  the  window-curtains  drawn,  a  fire  piled  half- 
way up  the  chimney,  plates  warming  before  it,  wax  candles 
gleaming  everywhere,  and  a  table  spread  for  three,  with  sih^er 
and  glass  enough  for  thirty — John  Westlock  !  Not  the  old 
John  of  Pecksniff's,  but  a  proper  gentleman  ;  looking  another 
and  a  grander  person,  with  the  consciousness  of  being  his  own 
master  and  having  money  in  the  bank  :  and  yet  in  some  re- 
spects the  old  John  too,  for  he  seized  Tom  Pinch  by  both  his 
hands  the  instant  he  appeared,  and  fairly  hugged  him,  in  his 
cordial  welcome. 

"  And  this,"  said  John,  "  is  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  him!  "  John  had  an  off-hand  manner  of  his  own  ; 
so  they  shook  hands  warmly,  and  were  friends  in  no  time. 

"  Stand  off  a  moment,  Tom,"  cried  the  old  pupil,  laying 
one  hand  on  each  of  Mr.  Pinch's  shoulders,  and  holding  him 
out  at  arm's  length.  "  Let  me  look  at  you  !  Just  the  same  ! 
Not  a  bit  changed  !  " 

".Why,  it's  not  so  very  long  ago,  you  know,"  said  Tom 
Pinch,  "after  all." 

"  It  seems  an  age  to  me,"  cried  John  \  "  and  so  it  ought  to 
seem  to  you,  you  dog."  And  then  he  pushed  Tom  down  into 
the  easiest  chair,  and  clapped  him  on  the  back  so  heartily,  and 
so  like  his  old  self  in  their  old  bed-room  at  old  Pecksniff's  that 


MARTIX  CIIUZZLEIVIT.  205 

it  was  a  toss-up  with  Tom  Pinch  whether  he  should  laugh  or 
cry.     Laughter  won  it ;  and  they  all  three  laughed  together. 

"  I  have  ordered  everything  for  dinner,  that  we  used  to 
say  we'd  have,  Tom,"  observed  John  Westlock. 

"  No  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  "  Have  you  ?  " 

"  Everything.  Don't  laugh,  if  you  can  help  it,  before  the 
waiters.  /  couldn't  when  1  was  ordering  it.  It's  like  a 
dream." 

John  was  wrong  there,  because  nobody  ever  dreamed  such 
soup  as  was  put  upon  the  table  directly  afterwards  ;  or  such 
fish  J  or  such  side-dishes  ;  or  such  a  top  and  bottom  ;  or  such 
a  course  of  birds  and  sweets  ;  or  in  short  anything  approach- 
ing the  reality  of  that  entertainment  at  ten-and-sixpence  a  head, 
exclusive  of  win.ps.  As  to  them,  the  man  who  can  dream  such 
iced  champagne,  such  claret,  port,  or  sl^erry,  had  better  go  to 
bed  and  stop  there. 

JJut  perhaps  the  finest  feature  of  the  banquet  was,  that 
nobody  was  half  so  much  amazed  by  every  thing  as  John  him- 
self, who  in  his  high  delight,  was  constantly  bursting  into 
fits  of  laughter,  and  then  endeavoring  to  appear  preternatur- 
ally  solemn,  lest  the  waiters  should  conceive  he  wasn't  used 
to  it.  Some  of  the  things  they  brought  him  to  carve,  were 
such  outrageous  practical  jokes,  though,  that  it  was  impossible 
to  stand  it ;  and  when  Tom  Pinch  insisted,  in  spite  of  the  de- 
ferential advice  of  an  attendant,  not  only  breaking  down  the 
outer  wall  of  a  raised  pie  with  a  tablespoon,  but  on  trying  to 
eat  it  afterwards,  John  lost  all  dignity,  and  sat  behind  the 
gorgeous  dish-cover  at  the  head  of  the  table,  roaring  to  that 
extent  that  he  was  audible  in  the  kitchen.  Nor  had  he  the 
least  objection  to  laugh  at  himself,  as  he  demonstrated  when 
they  had  all  three  gathered  round  the  fire,  and  the  dessert 
was  on  the  table  ;  at  which  period,  the  head  waiter  inquired 
with  respectful  solicitude  whether  that  port,  being  a  light  and 
tawny  wine,  was  suited  to  his  taste,  or  whether  he  would  wisii 
to  try  a  fruity  port  with  greater  body.  To  this  John  gravely 
answered  that  he  was  well  satisfied  with  what  he  had,  which 
he  esteemed,  as  one  might  say,  a  pretty  tidy  vintage  :  for 
which  the  waiter  thanked  him  and  withdrew.  And  then  John 
told  his  friends,  with  a  broad  grin,  that  he  supposed  it  was  all 
right,  but  he  didn't  know  ;  and  went  off  into  a  perfect  shout. 

They  were  very  merry  and  full  of  enjoyment  the  whole 
time,  but  not  the  least  pleasant  part  of  the  festival  was  when 
they  all  three  sat  about  the  fire,  cracking  nuts,  drinking  wine, 


2o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

and  talking  cheerfully.  It  happened  that  Tom  Pinch  had  a 
word  to  say  to  his  friend  the  organist's  assistant,  and  so  de- 
serted his  warm  corner  for  a  few  minutes  at  this  season,  lest 
it  should  grow  too  late  ;  leaving  the  other  two  young  men 
together. 

They  drank  his  health  in  his  absence,  of  course  ;  and  John 
Westlock  took  that  opportunity  of  saying,  that  he  had  never 
had  even  a  peevish  word  with  Tom  during  the  whole  term 
of  their  residence  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house.  This  naturally 
led  him  to  dwell  upon  Tom's  character,  and  to  hint  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  understood  it  pretty  well.  He  only  hinted  this,  and 
very  distantly  :  knowing  that  it  pained  Tom  Pinch  to  have 
that  gentleman  disparaged,  and  thinking  it  would  be  as  well 
to  leave  the  new  pupil  to  his  own  discoveries. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mactin.  "  It's  impossible  to  like  Pinch 
better  than  I  do,  or  to  do  greater  justice  to  his  good  qualities. 
He  is  the  most  willing  fellow  I  ever  saw." 

"  He's  rather  too  willing,"  observed  John,  who  was  quick 
in  observation.      "  It's  quite  a  fault  in  him." 

"  So  It  is,"  said  Martin.  "  Very  true.  There  was  a  fellow 
only  a  week  or  so  ago — a  Mr.  Tigg — who  borrowed  all  the 
money  he  had,  on  a  promise  to  repay  it  in  a  few  days.  It 
was  but  half  a  sovereign,  to  be  sure  ;  but  it's  well  it  was  no 
more,  for  he'll  never  see  it  again." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  John,  who  had  been  very  attentive  to 
these  few  words.  "  Perhaps  you  have  not  had  an  opportunity 
of  observing  that,  in  his  own  pecuniary  transactions,  Tom's 
proud." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  No,  I  haven't.  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Won't  he  borrow  ?  " 

John  Westlock  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  very  odd,"  said  Martin,  setting  down  his  empty 
glass.     "  He's  a  strange  compound,  to  be  sure." 

"As  to  receiving  money  as  a  gift,"  resumed  John  West- 
lock  ;  "  I  think  he'd  die  first." 

"  He's  made  up  of  simplicity,"  said  Martin.  "  Help 
yourself." 

"  You,  however,"  pursued  John,  filling  his  own  glass,  and 
looking  at  liis  companion  with  some  curiosity,  "who  are  older 
than  the  majority  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  assistants,  and  have  evi- 
dently had  much  more  experience,  understand  him,  I  have  no 
doubt,  and  see  how  liable  he  is  to  be  imposed  upon. 

"Certainly,"   said   Marun,   stretching   out   his  legs,   and 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  207 

holding  his  wine  between  his  eye  and  the  light.  "  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff knows  that  too.     So  do  his  daughters.     Eh  ?  " 

John  Westlock  smiled,  but  made  no  answer. 

"  By  the  bye,"  said  Martin,  "  that  reminds  me.  What's 
your  opinion  of  Pecksniff' }  How  did  he  use  you  ?  What 
do  you  think  of  him  now  ?  Coolly,  you  know,  when  it's  all 
over?  " 

"  Ask  Pinch,"  returned  the  old  pupil.  "  He  knows  what 
my  sentiments  used  to  be  upon  the  subject.  They  are  not 
changed,  1  assure  you-" 

"  No,  no,"  said  Martin,  "  I'd  rather  have  them  from  you. 

"But  Pinch  says  they  are  unjust,"  urged  John  with  a 
smile. 

"  Oh  !  well  ?  ,.  Then  I  know  what  course  they  take  before 
hand,"  said  Martin  ;  "  and,  therefore,  you  can  have  no  deli- 
cacy in  speaking  plainly.  Don't  mind  me,  I  beg.  I  don't 
like  him,  I  tell  you  frankly.  I  am  with  him  because  it  happens 
from  particular  circumstances  to  suit  my  convenience.  I  have 
some  ability,  I  believe,  in  that  way  ;  and  the  obligation,  if  any, 
will  most  likely  be  on  his  side  and  not  mine.  At  the  lowest 
mark,  the  balance  will  be  even,  and  there'll  be  no  obligation 
at  all.  So  you  may  talk  to  mc,  as  \i  1  had  no  connection  with 
him." 

"  If  you  press  me  to  give  my  opinion  " — returned  John 
Westlock. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Martin.     "  You'll  oblige  me." 

" — I  should  say,"  resumed  the  other,  "that  he  is  the 
most  consummate  scoundrel  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Martin,  as  coolly  as  ever.  "  That's  rather 
strong." 

"Not  stronger  than  he  deserves,"  said  John  ;  "  and  if  he 
called  upon  me  to  express  my  opinion  of  him  to  his  face,  I 
would  do  so  in  the  very  same  terms,  without  the  least  qualiii- 
cation.  His  treatment  of  Pinch  is  in  itself  enough  to  justify 
them  ;  but  when  I  look  back  upon  the  five  years  I  passed  in 
that  house,  and  remember  the  hypocrisy,  the  knavery,  the 
meannesses,  the  false  pretences,  the  lip  service  of  that  fellow, 
and  his  trading  in  saintly  semblances  for  the  very  worst 
realities  ;  when  I  remember  how  often  I  was  the  witness  of 
all  this,  and  how  often  I  was  made  a  kind  of  party  to  it,  by 
the  fact  of  being  there,  with  him  for  my  teacher  ;  1  swear  to 
you,  that  I  almost  despise  myself." 

Martin  drained  his  glass,  and  looked  at  the  fire. 


2o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say,  that  is  a  right  feeUng,"  pursued 
John  Westlock,  "  because  it  was  no  fault  of  mine  ;  and  I  can 
quite  understand — you,  for  instance,  fully  appreciating  him, 
and  yet  being  forced  by  circumstances  to  remain  there.  I  tell 
you  simply  what  my  feeling  is,  and  even  now,  when,  as  you 
say,  it's  all  over  ;  and  when  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  he  always  hated  me,  and  we  always  quarrelled,  and  I 
always  told  him  my  mind  ;  even  now,  I  feel  sorry  that  I  didn't 
yield  to  an  impulse  I  often  had,  as  a  boy,  of  running  away 
from  him  and  going  abroad." 

"  Why  abroad  ?  "  asked  Martin,  turning  his  eyes  upon  the 
speaker. 

"  In  search,"  replied  John  Westlock,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  "  of  the  livelihood  I  couldn't  have  earned  at  home. 
There  would  have  been  something  spirited  in  that.  But, 
come  !     Fill  your  glass,  and  let  us  forget  him." 

"  As  soon  as  you  please,"  said  Martin.  "  In  reference  to 
myself  and  my  connection  with  him,  I  have  only  to  repeat 
what  I  said  before.  I  have  taken  my  own  way  with  him  so 
far,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so,  even  more  than  ever  ;  for  the 
fact  is,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  that  I  believe  he  looks  to  me  to 
supply  his  defects,  and  couldn't  afford  to  lose  me.  I  had  a 
notion  of  that,  in  first  going  there.     Your  health  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  young  Westlock.  "  Yours.  And 
may  the  new  pupil  turn  out  as  well  as  you  can  desire  ! " 

'"  What  new  pupil  ?  " 

"  The  fortunate  youth,  born  under  an  auspicious  star," 
returned  John  Westlock,  laughing  ;  "  whose  parents,  or  guard- 
ians, are  destined  to  be  hooked  by  the  advertisement.  What ! 
Don't  you  know  that  he  has  advertised  again  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  read  it  just  before  dinner  in  the  old  news- 
paper. I  know  it  to  be  his  ;  having  some  reason  to  remember 
the  style.  Hush  !  Here's  Pinch.  Strange,  is  it  not,  that  the 
more  he  likes  Pecksniff  (if  he  can  like  him  better  than  he 
does),  the  greater  reason  one  has  to  like  him  ?  Not  a  word 
more,  or  we  shall  spoil  his  whole  enjoyment." 

Tom  entered  as  the  words  were  spoken,  with  a  radiant 
smile  upon  his  face  ;  and  rubbing  his  hands,  more  from  a 
sense  of  delight  than  because  he  was  cold  (for  he  had  been 
running  fast),  sat  down  in  his  warm  corner  again,  and  was  as 
happy  as  only  Tom  Pinch  could  be.  There  is  no  other  simile 
that  will  express  his  state  of  mind. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  2og 

"  And  so,"  he  said,  when  he  had  gazed  at  his  friend  for 
some  time  in  silent  pleasure,  "  so  you  really  are  a  gentleman 
at  last,  John.     Well,  to  be  sure  !  " 

"  Trying  to  be,  Tom  ;  trying  to  be,"  he  rejoined  good- 
humoredly.  "  There  is  no  sa}'ing  what  I  may  turn  out,  in 
time." 

",I  suppose  you  wouldn't  carry  your  own  box  to  the  mail 
now  ? "  said  Tom  Pinch,  smiling  :  "  although  you  lost  it  alto- 
gether by  not  taking  it." 

"Wouldn't  I?"  retorted  John.  "That's  all  you  know 
about  it,  Pinch.  It  must  be  a  very  heavy  box  that  I  wouldn't 
carry  to  get  away  from  Pecksniff's,  Tom." 

"  There  !  "  cried  Pinch,  turning  to  Martin,  "  I  told  you  so. 
The  great  fault  in  his  character  is  his  injustice  to  Pecksniff. 
You  mustn't  mind  a  word  he  says  on  that  subject.  His 
prejudice  is  most  extraordinary." 

"  The  absence  of  anything  like  prejudice  on  Tom's  part, 
you  know,"  said  John  Westlock,  laughing  heartily,  as  he  laid 
his  hand  on  Mr.  Pinch's  shoulder,  "  is  perfectly  wonderful. 
If  one  man  ever  had  a  profound  knowledge  of  another,  and 
saw  him  in  a  true  light,  and  in  his  own  proper  colors,  Tom 
has  that  knowledge  of  Mr,  Pecksniff," 

"Why,  of  course  I  have,"  cried  Tom.  "That's  exactly 
what  I  have  so  often  said  to  you.  If  you  knew  him  as  well 
as  I  do — John,  I'd  give  almost  any  money  to  bring  that  about 
— ^you'd-  admire,  respect,  and  reverence  him.  You  couldn't 
help  it.  Oh,  how  you  wounded  his  feelings  when  you  went 
away !  " 

"  If  I  had  known  whereabout  his  feelings  lay,"  retorted 
young  Westlock,  "  I'd  have  done  my  best,  Tom,  with  that  end 
in  view,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  But  as  I  couldn't  wound 
him  in  what  he  lias  not,  and  in  what  he  knows  nothing  of, 
except  in  his  ability  to  prol^e  them  to  the  quick  in  other 
people,  I  am  afraid  I  can  lay  no  claim  to  your  compliment." 

Mr.  Pinch,  being  unwilling  to  protract  a  discussion  which 
might  possibly  corrupt  Martin,  fore  bore  to  say  anything  in  re- 
ply to  this  speech  ;  but  John  Westlock,  whom  nothing  short  of 
an  iron  gag  would  have  silenced  wdien  Mr.  Pecksniff's  merits 
were  once  in  question,  continued  nothwithstanding. 

"  i^/i- feelings  !  Oh,  he's  a  tender-hearted  man.  ///.<•  feel- 
ings !  Oh,  he's  a  considerate,  conscientious,  self-exami.iing, 
moral  vagabond,  he  is  !  His  feelings  !  Oh  ! — what's  the  mat- 
ter, Tom  .? "  14 


2IO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  by  this  time  erect  upon  the  hearth-rug, 
buttoning  his  coat  with  great  energy. 

"  I  can't  bear  it,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  head.  "  No.  I 
really  cannot.  You  must  excuse  me,  John.  I  have  a  great 
esteem  and  friendship  for  you  ;  I  love  you  very  much  ;  and 
have  been  perfectly  cliarmed  and  over-joyed  to-day,  to  find 
you  just  the  same  as  ever  ;  but  I  cannot  listen  to  this.", 

'•  Why,  it's  my  old  way,  Tom  ;  and  you  say  yourself  that 
you  are  glad  to  find  me  unchanged." 

"  Not  in  this  respect,"  said  Tom  Pinch.  "  You  must  ex- 
cuse me  John.  I  cannot,  really  ;  I  will  not.  It's  very  wrong  ; 
you  should  be  more  guarded  in  your  expressions.  It  was  bad 
enough  when  you  and  I  used  to  be  alone  together,  but  under 
existing  circumstances,  I  can't  endure  it,  really.  No.  I  can- 
not, indeed." 

*'  You  are  quite  right !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  exchanging 
looks  with  Martin  ;  "  and  I  quite  wrong,  Tom.  I  don't  know 
how  the  deuce  we  fell  on  this  unlucky  theme.  I  beg  your  par- 
don with  all  my  heart." 

"  You  have  a  free  and  manly  temper,  I  know,"  said  Pinch  ; 
"  and  therefore,  your  being  so  ungenerous  in  this  one  solitary 
instance,  only  grieves  me  the  more.  It's  not  my  pardon  you 
have  to  ask,  John.     You  have  done  me  nothing  but  kindnesses." 

"Well!  Pecksniff's  pardon,  then,"  said  young  Westlock. 
"  Anything,  Tom,  or  anybody.  Pecksniff's  pardon.  Will  that 
do .''     Here  !  let  us  drink  Pecksniff's  health  !  " 

"Thank  you,"  cried  Tom,  shaking  hands  with  him  eagerly, 
and  filling  a  bumper.  "  Thank  you  ;  I'll  drink  it  with  all  my 
heart,  John.     Mr.  Pecksniff's  health,  and  prosperity  to  him  !  " 

John  Westlock  echoed  the  sentiment,  or  nearly  so  ;  for  he 
drank  Mr  Pecksniff's  health,  and  something  to  him  :  but  what, 
was  not  quite  audible.  The  general  unanimity  being  then 
completely  restored,  they  drew  their  chairs  closer  round  the 
fire,  and  conversed  in  perfect  harmony  and  enjoyment  until 
bed-time. 

No  slight  circumstance,  perhaps,  could  have  better  illus- 
trated the  difference  of  character  between  John  Westlock  and 
Martin  Chuzzlewit,  than  the  manner  in  which  each  of  the 
young  men  contemplated  Tom  Pinch,  after  the  little  rupture 
just  described.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of  jocularity  in 
the  looks  of  both,  no  doubt,  but  there  all  resemblance  ceased. 
The  old  pupil  could  not  do  enough  to  show  Tom  how  cordially 
he  felt  towards  him,  and  his  friendly  regard  seemed  of  a  graver 


I 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  2  i  £ 

and  more  thoughtful  kind  than  before.  The  new  one,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  no  impulse  but  to  laugh  at  the  recollection 
of  Tom's  extreme  absurdity  ;  and  mingled  with  his  amuse- 
ment there  was  something  slighting  and  contemptuous,  indi- 
cative, as  it  appeared,  of  his  opinion  that  Mr  Pinch  was  much 
too  far  gone  iu  simplicity,  to  be  admitted  as  the  friend,  on  seri- 
ous and  equal  terms,  of  any  rational  man. 

John  Westlock,  who  did  nothing  by  halves,  if  he  could 
help  it,  had  provided  beds  for  his  two  guests  in  the  hotel  ;  and 
after  a  very  happy  evening,  they  retired.-  Mr.  Pinch  was 
sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed  with  his  cravat  and  shoes  off, 
ruminating  on  the  manifold  good  qualities  of  his  old  friend, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  his  chamber  door,  and 
the  voice  of  Johi>  himself. 

"  You  are  not  asleep  yet,  are  you,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  no  !  not  I,  I  was  thinking  of  you,"  replied 
Tom,  opening  the  door.     "  Come  in." 

"I  am  not  going  to  detain  you,"  said  John  ;  "but  I  have 
forgotten  all  the  evening  a  little  commission  I  took  upon  my 
self ;  and  I  am  afraid  I  may  forget  it  again,  if  1  fail  to  dis- 
charge it  at  once.     You  know  a  Mr.  Tigg,  Tom,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Tigg  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Tigg  !  The  gentleman  who  bor^ 
rowed  some  money  of  me  ?  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  John  Westlock.  "  He  begged  me  to  pre- 
sent his  compliments,  and  to  return  it  with  many  thanks. 
Here  it  is.  I  suppose  it's  a  good  one,  but  he  is  rather  a  doubt- 
ful kind  of  customer,  Tom." 

Mr.  Pinch  received  the  little  piece  of  gold,  with  a  face 
whose  brightness  might  have  shamed  the  metal  ;  and  said  he 
had  no  fear  about  that.  He  was  glad,  he  added,  to  find  Mr. 
Tigg  so  prompt  and  honorable  in  his  dealings  ;  ver)'  glad. 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Tom,"  replied  his  friend,  "he 
is  not  always  so.  If  you  '11  take  my  advice,  you'll  avoid  him 
as  much  as  you  can,  in  the  event  of  your  encountering  him 
again.  And  by  no  means,  Tom — pray  bear  this  in  mind,  for 
I  am  very  serious — by  no  means  lend  him  money  any  more." 

"  Ay,  ay !  "  said  Tom,  with  his  eyes  wide  open. 

"  He  is  very  far  from  being  a  reputable  acquaintance,"  re- 
turned young  Westlock  ;  "  and  the  more  you  let  him  know 
you  think  so,  the  better  for  you,  Tom." 

"  I  say,  John,"  quoth  Mr.  Pinch,  as  his  countenance  ffll, 
and  he  shook  his  head  in  a  dejected  manner,  "  1  hope  you 
are  not  getting  into  bad  company." 


212  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  No,  no,"  he  replied  laughing.  "  Don't  be  uneasy  on 
that  score." 

"  Oh  but  I  am  uneasy,"  said  Tom  Pinch  ;  "  I  can't  help  it, 
Avhen  I  hear  you  talking  in  that  way.'  If  Mr.  Tigg  is  what 
you  describe  him  to  be,  you  have  no  business  to  know  him, 
John.  You  may  laugh,  but  I  don't  consider  it  by  any  means 
a  laughing  matter,  I  assure  you." 

"No,  no,"  returned  his  friend,  composing  his  features. 
"  Quite  right.     It  is  not,  certainly." 

"  You  know,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  your  very  good  na- 
ture and  kindness  of  heart  make  you  thoughtless  ;  and  you 
can't  be  too  careful  on  such  a  point  as  this.  Upon  my  word, 
if  1  thought  you  were  falling  among  bad  companions,  i  should 
be  quite  wretched,  for  I  know  how  difficult  you  would  find 
it  to  shake  them  off.  I  would  much  rather  have  lost  this 
money,  John,  than  I  would  have  had  it  back  again  on  such 
terms." 

"  I  tell  you,  my  dear  good  old  fellow,"  cried  his  friend,  shak- 
ing him  to  and  fro  with  both  hands,  and  smiling  at  him 
with  a  cheerful,  open  countenance,  that  M'ould  have  car- 
ried conviction  to  a  mind  much  more  suspicious  than  Tom's  ; 
*'  I  tell  you  there  is  no  danger." 

"  Well !  "  cried  Tom,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  it ;  I  am  over- 
joyed to  hear  it.  I  am  sure  there  is  not,  when  you  say  so  in 
that  manner.  You  won't  take  it  ill,  John,  that  I  said  what  I 
did  iust  now  !  " 

"  111 !  "  said  the  other,  giving  his  hand  a  hearty  squeeze  ; 
"  why  what  do  you  think  I  am  made  of  .''  Mr.  Tigg  and  I  are 
not  on  such  an  intimate  footing  that  you  need  be  at  all  un- 
easy, I  give  you  my  solemn  assurance  of  that,  Tom.  You  are 
quite  comfortable  now  .''  " 

"  Quite,"  said  Tom. 

"Then  once  more,  good-night !  " 

"  Good-night !"  cried  Tom  ;"  and  such  pleasant  dreams 
to  you,  as  should  attend  the  sleep  of  the  best  fellow  in  the 
world  !  " 

" — Except  Pecksniff,"  said  his  friend,  stopping  at  the  door, 
for  a  moment,  and  looking  gayly  back. 

"Except  Pecksniff,"  answered  Tom,  with  great  gravity: 
"of  course." 

And  thus  they  parted  for  the  night  ;  John  Westlock  full  of 
light-heartedness  and  good  humor,  and  poor  Tom  Pinch  quite 
satisfied  ;  though  still,  as  he  turned  over  on  his  side  in  bed, 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  2 1 3 

he  muttered  to  'himself,  "  I  really  do  wish,  for  all  that, 
though,  that  he  wasn't  acquainted  with  Mr.  Tigg." 

They  breakfasted  together  very  early  next  morning,  for  the 
two  young  men  desired  to  get  back  again  in  good  season  ;  and 
John  Westlock  was  to  return  to  London  by  the  coach  that 
day.  As  he  had  some  hours  to  spare,  he  bore  them  company 
for  three  or  four  miles  on  their  walk,  and  only  parted  from 
them  at  last  in  sheer  necessity.  The  parting  was  an  unusually 
hearty  one,  not  only  as  between  him  and  Tom  Pinch,  but  on 
the  side  of  Martin  also,  who  had  found  in  the  old  pupil  a  very 
dil^erent  sort  of  person  from  the  milksop  he  had  prepared 
himself  to  expect. 

Young  Westlock  stopped  upon  a  rising  ground,  when  he 
had  gone  a  little  distance,  and  looked  back.  They  were  walk- 
ing at  a  brisk  pace,  and  Tom  appeared  to  be  talking  earnestly. 
Martin  had  taken  off  his  great-coat,  the  wind  being  now  be- 
hind them,  and  carried  it  upon  his  arm.  As  he  looked,  he 
saw  Tom  relieve  him  of  it,  after  a  faint  resistance,  and,  throw- 
ing it  upon  his  own,  encumber  himself  with  the  weight  of  both. 
This  trivial  incident  impressed  the  old  pupil  mightily,  for  he 
stood  there,  gazing  after  them,  until  they  were  hidden  from 
his  view;  when  he  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  were  troubled  by 
some  uneasy  reflection,  and  thoughtfully  retraced  his  steps  to 
Salisbury. 

In  the  meantime,  Martin  and  Tom  pursued  their  way,  until 
they  halted,  safe  and  sound,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  where  a 
brief  epistle  from  that  good  gentleman  to  Mr.  Pinch,  an- 
nounced the  family's  return  by  that  night's  coach.  As  it 
would  pass  the  corner  of  the  lane  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  Mr.  Pecksniff  requested  that  the  gig  might  be  in 
waiting  at  the  finger-post  about  that  time,  together  with  a  cart 
for  the  luggage.  And  to  the  end  that  he  might  be  received 
with  the  greater  honor,  the  young  men  agreed  to  rise  early, 
and  be  upon  the  spot  themselves. 

It  was  the  least  cheerful  day  they  had  yet  passed  together. 
Martin  was  out  of  spirits  and  out  of  humor,  and  took  ever}' 
opportunity  of  comparing  his  condition  and  prospects  with 
those  of  young  Westlock  :  much  to  his  own  disadvantage 
always.  This  mood  of  his  depressed  Tom  :  and  neither  that 
morning's  parting,  nor  yesterday's  dinner,  helped  to  mend  the 
matter.  So  the  hours  dragged  on  heavily  enough  ;  and  they 
were  glad  to  go  to  bed  early. 

They  were  not  quite  so  glad  to  get  up  again  at  half-past 


214  MARTIN  CIJUZZLEWIT. 

four  o'clock,  in  all  the  shivering  discomfort  of  a  dark  winter's 
morning ;  but  they  turned  out  punctually,  and  were  at  the 
finger-post  full  iialf-an-hour  before  the  appointed  time.  It 
was  not  by  any  means  a  lively  morning,  for  the  sky  was  black 
and  cloudy,  and  it  rained  hard  ;  but  Martin  said  there  was 
some  satisfaction  in  seeing  that  brute  of  a  horse  (by  this,  he 
meant  Mr.  Pecksniff's  Arab  steed)  getting  very  wet ;  and  that 
he  rejoiced,  on  his  account,  that  it  rained  so  fast.  From  this 
it  may  be  inferred,  that  Martin's  spirits  had  not  improved,  as 
mdeed  they  had  not ;  for  while  he  and  Mr.  Pinch  stood  wait- 
ing under  a  hedge,  looking  at  the  rain,  the  gig,  the  cart,  and 
Its  reeking  driver,  he  did  nothing  but  grumble  ,  and,  but  that 
it  is  indispensable  to  any  dispute  that  there  should  be  two 
parties  to  it,  he  would  certainly  have  picked  a  quarrel  with 
Tom. 

At  length  the  noise  of  wheels  was  faintly  audible  in  the 
distance,  and  presently  the  coach  came  splashing  through  the 
mud  and  mire,  with  one  miserable  outside  passenger  crouch- 
ing down  among  wet  straw,  under  a  saturated  umbrella  ;  and 
the  coachman,  guard,  and  horses,  in  a  fellowship  of  dripping 
wretchedness.  Immediately  on  its  stopping,  Mr.  Pecksniff  let 
down  the  window-glass  and  hailed  Tom  Pinch. 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  Pinch  !  Is  it  possible  that  you  are  out 
upon  this  very  inclement  morning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  cried  Tom,  advancing  eagerly,  "  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit  and  I,  sir." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking,  not  so  much  at  Martin 
as  at  the  spot  on  which  he  stood.  "  Oh  !  Indeed  !  Do  me 
the  favor  to  see  to  the  trunks,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Then  Mr.  Pecksniff  descended,  and  helped  his  daughters 
to  alight ;  but  neither  he  nor  the  young  ladies  took  the 
slightest  notice  of  Martin,  who  had  advanced  to  offer  his 
assistance,  but  was  repulsed  by  Mr.  Pecksniff's  standing 
immediately  before  his  person,  with  his  back  towards  him.  In 
the  same  manner,  and  in  profound  silence,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
handed  his  daughters  into  the  gig ;  and  following  himself  and 
taking  the  reins,  drove  off  home. 

Lost  in  astonishment,  Martin  stood  staring  at  the  coach, 
and  when  the  coach  had  driven  awav,  at  Mr.  Pinch  and  the 
luggage,  until  the  cart  moved  off  too  ;  when  he  said  to  Tom : 

"  Now  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what  this 
portends  .''  "• 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Tom. 


MA  A'  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


215 


"  This  fellow's  behavior.  Mr.  Pecksniff's,  I  mean.  You 
saw  it  t  " 

"  No.  Indeed  1  did  not,"  cried  Tom.  "  I  was  busy  with 
the  trunks." 

"  It  is  no  matter,"  said  Martin.  "Come!  Let  us  make 
haste  back."  And  without  another  word  he  started  off  at 
such  a  pace,  that  Tom  had  some  difficulty  in  keeping  up  with 
him. 

He  had  no  care  where  he  went,  but  walked  through  little 
heaps  of  mud  and  little  pools  of  water  with  the  utmost  in- 
difference ;  looking  straight  before  him,,  and  sometimes  laugh- 
ing in  a  strange  manner  within  himself.  Tom  felt  that  anything 
he  could  say  would  only  render  him  the  more  obstinate,  and 
therefore  trusted  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  manner  when  they 
reached  the  house,  to  remove  the  mistaken  impression  under 
which  he  felt  convinced  so  great  a  favorite  as  the  new  pupil 
must  unquestionably  be  laboring.  But  he  was  not  a  little 
amazed  himself,  \vhen  they  did  reach  it,  and  entered  the 
parlor  where  Mr.  Pecksniff'  was  sitting  alone  before  the  fire, 
drinking  some  hot  tea,  to  find,  that  instead  of  taking  favorable 
notice  of  his  relative,  and  keeping  him,  Mr.  Pinch,  in  the 
background,  he  did  exactly  the  reverse,  and  was  so  lavish  in 
his  attentions  to  Tom,  that  Tom  was  thoroughly  confounded. 

"Take  some  tea,  Mr.  Pinch,  take  some  tea,"  said  Peck- 
sniff, stirring  the  fire.  "  You  must  be  very  cold  and  damp. 
Pray  take  some  tea,  and  come  into  a  warm  place,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Tom  saw  that  Martin  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  though 
he  could  have  easily  found  it  in  his  heart  to  give  him  an 
invitation  to  a  very  warm  place  ;  but  he  was  quite  silent,  and 
standing  opposite  that  gentleman  at  the  table,  regarded  him 
attentively. 

"  Take  a  chair,  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  "Take  a  chair,  if 
you  please.  How  have  things  gone  on  in  our  absence,  Mr. 
Pinch  ?  " 

"  You — you  will  be  very  much  pleased  with  the  griunmar 
school,  sir,"  said  Tom.     "  It's  nearly  finished." 

"  If  you  will  have  the  goodness,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Peck- 
sniff, waving  his  hand  and  smiling,  "we  will  not  discuss  any- 
thing connected  with  that  question  at  present.  What  have 
you  been  doing,  Thomas,  humph  ? " 

Mr.  Pinch  looked  from  master  to  pupil,  and  from  pupil  to 
master,  and  was  so  perplexed  and  dismayed,  that  he  wanted 
presence  of  mind  to  answer  the  question.     In  this  awkward 


2  1 6  ^''^■^ A'  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

interval,  Mr.  Pecksniff  (who  was  perfectly  conscious  of 
Martin's  gaze,  though  he  had  never  once  glanced  towards 
him)  poked  the  fire  very  much,  and  when  he  couldn't  do  that 
any  more,  drank  tea  assiduously. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  Martin  at  last,  in  a  very  quiet 
voice,  "  if  you  have  sufficiently  refreshed  and  recovered  your- 
self, I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  what  you  mean  by  this  treatment 
of  me." 

"  And  what,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  his  eyes  on  Tom 
Pinch,  even  more  placidly  and  gently  than  before,  "  what  have 
you  been  doing,  Thomas,  humph  ?  " 

When  he  had  repeated  this  inquiry,  he  looked  round  the 
walls  of  the  room  as  if  he  were  curious  to  see  whether  any 
nails  had  been  left  there  by  accident  in  former  times. 

Tom  was  almost  at  his  wit's  ends  what  to  say  between  the 
two,  and  had  already  made  a  gesture  as  if  he  would  call  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  attention  to  the  gentleman  who  had  last  addressed 
Inm,  when  Martin  saved  him  further  trouble,  by  doing  so  him- 
self. 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  softly  rapping  the  table  twice 
or  thrice,  and  moving  a  step  or  two  nearer,  so  that  he  could 
have  touched  him  with  his  hand  ;  "  you  heard  what  I  said 
just  now.  Do  me  the  favor  to  reply,  if  you  please.  I  ask 
you  :  "  he  raised  his  voice  a  little  here  :  "  what  do  you  mean 


? 


by  thi 

"  I  will  talk  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  a  severe 
voice,  as  he  looked  at  him  for  the  first  time,   "  presently." 

"You  are  veiy  obliging,"  returned  Martin;  "presently 
will  not  do.     I  must  trouble  you  to  talk  to  me  at  once." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  a  feint  of  being  deeply  interested  in 
his  pocket-book,  but  it  shook  in  his  hands  ;  he  trembled  so. 

"Now,"  retorted  Martin,  rapping  the  table  again.  "Now. 
Presently  will  not  do.     Now  !  " 

"Do  you  threaten  me,  sir?  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Martin  looked  at  him,  and  made  no  answer  ;  but  a  curi- 
ous observer  might  have  detected  an  ominous  twitching  at  his 
mouth,  and  perhaps  an  involuntary  attraction  of  his  right 
hand  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  cravat. 

"  I  lament  to  be  obliged  to  say,  sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, "that  it  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  your  character 
if  you  did  threaten  me.  You  have  deceived  me.  You  have 
imposed  upon  a  nature  which  you  knew  to  be  confiding  and 
unsuspicious.     You  have  obtained  admission,  sir,"  said  Mr. 


MARTIN  CnUZZLEWIT. 


217 


Pecksniff  rising,  "  to  this  house,  on  perverted  statements,  and 
on  false  f)retences." 

"Goon,"  said  Martin,  with  a  scornful  smile.  "I  under- 
stand you  now.     What  more  .''  " 

"  I'hus  much  more,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  and  trjdng  to  rub  his  hands,  as  though  he 
were  only  cold.  "Thus  much  more,  if  you  force  me  to  pub- 
lish your  shame  before  a  third  party,  which  I  was  unwilling 
and  indisposed  to  do.  This  lowly  roof,  sir,  must  not  be  con- 
taminated by  the  presence  of  one,  who  has  deceived,  and 
cruelly  deceived,  an  honorable,  beloved,  venerated,  and  vener- 
able gentleman  ;  and  who  wisely  suppressed  that  deceit  from 
me  when  he  sought  my  protection  and  favor  knowing  that, 
humble  as  I  am,  \  am  an  honest  man,  seeking  to  do  my  duty 
in  this  carnal  universe,  and  setting  my  face  against  all  vice 
and  treachery.  I  weep  for  your  depravity,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff  ;  "  I  mourn  over  your  corruption,  I  pity  your  volun- 
tary withdrawal  of  yourself  from  the  flowery  paths  of  purity 
and  peace  ;  "  here  he  struck  himself  upon  his  breast,  or  moral 
garden  ;  "  but  I  cannot  have  a  leper  and  a  serpent  for  an  in- 
mate. Oo  forth,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretching  out  his  hand  : 
"go  forth,  young  man  !  Like  all  who  know  you,  I  renounce 
you  ! 

With  what  intention  Martin  made  a  stride  forward  at  these 
words,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  Tom 
Pinch  caught  him  in  his  arms,  and  that,  at  the  same  moment, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  stepped  back  so  hastily,  that  he  missed  his  foot- 
ing, tumbled  over  a  chair,  and  fell  in  a  sitting  posture  on  the 
ground  ;  where  he  remained  without  an  effort  to  get  up  again, 
with  Ms  head  ni  a  corner ;  perhaps  considering  it  the  safest 
place. 

"  Let  me  go.  Pinch  !  "  cried  Martin,  shaking  him  away. 
"  Why  do  you  hold  me  ?  Do  you  think  a  blow  could  make 
him  a  more  abject  creature  than  he  is.''  Do  you  think  that  if 
I  spat  upon  him,  I  could  degrade  him  to  a  lower  level  than 
his  own?     Look  at  him.     Look  at  him.  Pinch  !  " 

Mr.  Pinch  involuntarily  did  so.  Mr.  Pecksniff  sitting,  as 
has  been  already  mentioned,  on  the  carpet,  with  his  head  in 
an  acute  angle  of  the  wainscot,  and  all  the  damage  and  detri- 
ment of  an  uncomfortable  journey  aljout  him,  was  not  exactly 
a  model  of  all  that  is  prepossessing  and  dignified  in  man,  cer- 
tainly. Still  he  7<yai'  Pecksniff;  it  was  impossible  to  deprive 
him  of  that  unique  and  paramount  appeal  to  Tom.     And  he 


2 1 8  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

returned  Tom's  glance,  as  if  he  would  have  said,  "  Ay,  Mr. 
Pinch,  look  at  me  !  Here  I  am  !  You  know  what  J^e  Poet 
says  about  an  honest  man  ;  and  an  honest  man  is  one  of  the 
few  great  works  that  can  be  seen  for  nothing  !  Look  at  me  !  " 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Martin,  "  that  as  he  lies  there,  disgraced, 
bought,  used  ;  a  cloth  for  dirty  hands,  a  mat  for  dirty  feet,  a 
lying,  fawning,  servile  hound,  he  is  the  very  last  and  worst 
among  the  vermin  of  the  world.  And  mark  me.  Pinch  !  The 
day  will  come — he  knows  it :  see  it  written  on  his  face,  while 
I  speak  ! — when  even  you  will  find  him  out,  and  will  know  him 
as  I  do,  and  as  he  knows  I  do.  He  renounce  me  !  Cast  your 
eyes  on  the  Renouncer,  Pinch,  and  be  the  wiser  for  the  recol- 
lection !  " 

He  pointed  at  him  as  he  spoke,  with  unutterable  contempt, 
and  flinging  his  hat  upon  his  head,  walked  from  the  room  and 
from  the  house.  He  went  so  rapidly  that  he  was  already  clear 
of  the  village,  when  he  heard  Tom  Pinch  calling  breathlessly 
after  him  in  the  distance. 

"  Well  !  what  now  ?  "  he  said,  when  Tom  came  up. 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  Tom,   "  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Going  !  "  he  echoed.     "  Going  !  " 

"  1  didn't  so  much  mean  that,  as  were  you  going  now  at 
once,  in  this  bad  weather,  on  foot,  without  your  clothes,  with 
no  money  1  "  cried  Tom. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  sternly,  "I  am." 

"And  where  ?  "  cried  Tom.     "  Oh  where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "Yes  I  do.  I'll  go  to  Amer- 
ica !  " 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Tom,  in  a  kind  of  agony.  "  Don't  go 
there.  Pray  don't  !  Thmk  better  of  it.  Don't  be  so  dread- 
fully regardless  of  yourself.     Don't  go  to  America." 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,"  he  said.  "  Your  friend  was  right. 
I'll  go  to  America.     God  bless  you,  Pinch  ! " 

"  Take  this  !  "  cried  Tom,  pressing  a  book  upon  him  in 
great  agitation.  "  I  must  make  haste  back,  and  can't  say 
anything  I  would.  Heaven  be  with  you.  Look  at  the  leaf  I 
have  turned  down.     Good-by,  good-by  !  " 

The  simple  fellow  wrung  him  by  the  hand,  with  tears 
stealing  down  his  cheeks;  and  they  parted  hurriedly  upon 
their  separate  ways. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


219 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SHOWING  WHAT  BECAME  OF  MARTIN  AND  HIS  DESPERATE 
RESOLVE  AFTER  HE  LEFT  MR.  PECKSNIFF'S  HOUSE  ;  WHAT 
PERSONS  HE  ENCOUNTERED  ;  WHAT  ANXIETIES  HE  SUF- 
FERED ;   AND    WHAT    NEWS    HE    HEARD. 

Carrying  Tom  Pinch's  book  quite  unconsciously  under  his 
arm,  and  not  even  buttoning  his  coat  as  a  protection  against 
the  heavy  rain,  Martin  went  doggedly  forward  at  the  same 
quick  pace,  until  he  had  passed  the  iinger-post,  and  was  on 
the  high  road  to  London.  He  slackened  veiy  little  in  his 
speed  even  then,  but  he  began  to  think,  and  look  about  him, 
and  to  disengage  his  senses  from  the  coil  of  angry  passions 
which  hitherto  had  held  them  prisoner. 

It  must  be  confessed  that,  at  that  moment,  he  had  no  very 
agreeable  employment  either  for  his  moral  or  his  physical  per- 
ceptions. The  day  was  dawning  from  a  patch  of  watery  light 
in  the  east,  and  sullen  clouds  came  driving  up  before  it,  from 
which  the  rain  descended  in  a  thick,  wet  mist.  It  streamed 
from  every  twig  and  bramble  in  the  hedge  ;  made  little  gullies 
in  the  path  ;  ran  down  a  hundred  channels  in  the  road  ;  and 
punched  innumerable  holes  into  the  face  of  every  pond  and 
gutter.  It  fell  with  an  oozy,  slushy  sound  among  the  grass  ; 
and  made  a  muddy  kennel  of  every  furrow  in  the  ploughed 
fields.  No  living  creature  was  anywhere  to  be  seen.  The 
prospect  could  hardly  have  been  more  desolate  if  animated 
nature  had  been  dissolved  in  water,  and  poured  down  upon 
the  earth  again  in  that  form. 

The  range  of  view  within  the  solitary  traveller,  was  quite 
as  cheerless  as  the  scene  without.  Friendless  and  penniless  ; 
incensed  to  the  last  degree  ;  deeply  wounded  in  his  pride  and 
self-love  ;  full  of  independent  schemes,  and  perfecdy  destitute 
of  any  means  of  realizing  them  ;  his  most  vindictive  enemy 
might  have  been  satisfied  with  the  extent  of  his  troubles.  'I  o 
add  to  his  other  miseries,  he  was  by  this  time  sensible  of 
being  wet  to  the  skin,  and  cold  at  his  very  heart. 

In  this  deplorable  condition,  he  remembered  Mr.  Pinch's 
book  ;  more  because  it  was  rather  troublesome  to  carry,  than 
from  any  hope  of  being  comforted  by  that  parting  gift.     He 


2  2  o  ^^A  A'  TIN  CIIUZZLE  WIT. 

looked  at  the  ding}'  lettering  on  the  back,  and  finding  it  to  be 
an  odd  volume  of  the  "  Bachelor  of  Salamanca,"  in  the  French 
tongue,  cursed  Tom  Pinch's  folly,  twenty  limes.  He  was  on 
the  point  of  throwing  it  away,  in  his  ill-humor  and  \'e\ation, 
when  he  bethought  himself  that  Tom  had  referred  him  to  a 
leaf,  turned  down  ;  and  opening  it,  at  that  place,  that  he  might 
have  additional  cause  of  complaint  against  him  for  supposing 
that  any  cold  scrap  of  the  Bachelor's  wisdom  could  cheer  him 
in  such  circumstances,  found — 

Well,  well  !  not  much,  but  Tom's  all.  The  half-sovereign. 
He  had  wrapped  it  hastily  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  pinned  it 
to  the  leaf.  These  words  were  scrawled  in  pencil  on  the  in- 
side :  "  I  don't  want  it,  indeed.  I  should  not  know  what  to 
do  with  it,  if  I  had  it." 

There  are  some  falsehoods,  Tom,  on  which  men  mount,  as 
on  bright  wings,  towards  Heaven.  There  are  some  truths, 
cold  bitter  taunting  truths,  wherein  your  worldly  scholars  are 
very  apt  and  punctual,  which  bind  men  down  to  earth  with 
leaden  chains.  Who  would  not  rather  have  to  fan  him,  in  his 
dying  hour,  the  lightest  feather  of  a  falsehood  such  as  thine, 
than  all  the  quills  that  have  been  plucked  from  the  sharp  por- 
cupine, reproachful  truth,  since  time  began ! 

Martin  felt  keenly  for  himself,  and  he  felt  this  good  deed 
of  I'om's  keenly.  After  a  few  minutes  it  had  the  effect  of 
raising  his  spirits,  and  reminding  him  that  he  was  not  alto- 
gether destitute,  as  he  had  left  a  fair  stock  of  clothes  behind 
him,  and  wore  a  gold  hunting-watch  in  his  pocket.  He  found 
a  curious  gratification,  too,  in  thinking  what  a  winning  fellow 
he  must  be  to  have  made  such  an  impression  on  Tom  ;  and  in 
reflecting  how  superior  he  was  to  Tom  ;  and  how  much  more 
likely  to  make  his  way  in  the  world.  Animated  by  these 
thoughts,  and  strengthened  in  his  design  of  endeavoring  to 
push  his  fortune  in  another  country,  he  resolved  to  get  to 
London  as  a  rallying-point,  in  the  best  way  he  could ;  and  to 
lose  no  time  about  it. 

He  was  ten  good  miles  from  the  village  made  illustrious 
by  being  the' abiding-place  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  when  he  stopped 
to  breakfast  at  a  little  road-side  ale-house  ;  and  resting  upon 
a  high-backed  settle  before  the  fire,  pulled  off  his  coat,  and 
hung  it  before  the  cheerful  blaze,  to  dry.  It  was  a  ver}'  dif- 
ferent place  from  the  last  tavern  in  which  he  had  regaled : 
boasting  no  greater  extent  of  accommodation  than  the  brick- 
floored  kitchen  yielded  :  but  the  mind  so  soon  accommodates 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  221 

itself  to  the  necessities  of  the  body,  that  this  poor  wagoner's 
house-of-call,  which  he  would  have  despised  yesterday,  became 
now  quite  a  choice  hotel ;  while  his  dish  of  eggs  and  bacon, 
and  his  mug  of  beer,  were  not  by  any  means  the  coarse  fare 
he  had  supposed,  but  fully  bore  out  the  inscription  on  the 
window-shutter,  which  proclaimed  those  viands  to  be  "  Good 
entertainment  for  Travellers." 

He  pushed  away  his  empty  plate  ;  and  with  a  second  mug 
upon  the  hearth  before  him,  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  fire 
until  his  eyes  ached.  Then  he  looked  at  the  highly^colored 
scripture  pieces  on  the  wall,  in  little  black  frames  like  common 
shaving-glasses,  and  saw  how  the  Wise  Men  (with  a  strong 
family  likeness  among  them)  worshipped  in  a  pink  manger  ; 
and  how  the  Prodigal  Son  came  home  in  red  rags  to  a  purple 
father,  and  already  feasted  his  imagination  on  a  sea-green 
calf.  Then  he  glanced  through  the  window  at  the  falling  rain, 
coming  down  aslant  upon  the  sign-post  over  against  the  house, 
and  overflowing  the  horse-trough  ;  and  then  he  looked  at  the 
fire  again,  and  seejned  to  descry  a  doubly-distant  London,  re- 
treating among  the  fragments  of  the  burning  wood. 

He  had  repeated  this  process  in  just  the  same  order,  many 
times,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  necessity,  when  the  sound  of 
wheels  called  his  attention  to  the  window,  out  of  its  regular 
turn  ;  and  there  he  beheld  a  kind  of  Hglit  van  drawn  by  four 
horses,  and  laden,  as  well  as  he  could  see  (for  it  was  covered 
in),  with  corn  and  straw.  The  driver,  who  was  aloncy  stopped 
at  the  door  to  water  his  team,  and  presently  came  stamping 
and  shaking  the  wet  off  his  hat  and  coat,  into  the  room  where 
Martin  sat. 

He  was  a  red-faced  burly  young  fellow  ;  smart  in  his  way, 
and  with  a  crood-humored  countenance.  As  he  advanced 
towards  the  fire,  he  touclied  his  shining  forehead  with  the 
forefinger  of  his  stiff  leather  glove,  by  way  of  salutation  ;  and 
said  (rather  unnecessarily)  that  it  was  an  uncommon  wet  day. 

"  Very  wet,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  don't  know  as  ever  1  see  a  wetter." 

"  I  never  felt  one,"  said  Martin. 

The  driver  glanced  at  Martin's  soiled  dress,  and  his  damp 
shirt  sleeves,  and  his  coat  hung  up  to  dry :  and  said,  after  a 
pause,  as  he  warmed  his  hands  : 

"  You  have  been  caught  in  il,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes,"  was  the  short  re]jly. 

"  Out  riding,  maybe  ?  "  said  the  driver. 


222  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  should  have  been,  if  I  owned  a  horse  ;  but  I  don't," 
returned  Martin. 

"  That's  bad,"  said  the  driver. 

"And  may  be  worse,"  said  Martin. 

Now  the  driver  said  "  That's  bad,"  not  so  much  because 
Martin  didn't  own  a  horse,  as  because  he  said  he  didn't  with 
aU  the  reckless  desperation  of  his  mood  and  circumstances, 
and  so  left  a  great  deal  to  be  inferred.  Martin  put  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  whistled,  when  he  had  retorted  on  the 
driver :  thus  giving  him  to  understand  that  he  didn't  care  a 
pin  for  Fortune  ;  that  he  was  above  pretending  to  be  her 
favorite  when  he  was  not  ;  and  that  he  snapped  his  fingers  at 
her,  the  driver,  and  everybody  else. 

The  driver  looked  at  him  stealthily  for  a  minute  or  so  ;  and 
in  the  pauses  of  his  warming,  whistled  too.  At  length  he 
asked,  as  he  pointed  his  thumb  towards  the  road. 

"  Up  or  down  .''  " 

"  Which  is  up  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  London,  of  course,"  said  the  driver, 

"  Up  then,"  said  Martin.  He  tossed  his  head  in  a  care- 
less manner  afterwards,  as  if  he  would  have  added,  "  Now 
you  know  all  about  it ;  "  put  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets  ; 
changed  his  tune,  and  whistled  a  little  louder. 

"  /'m  going  up,"  observed  the  driver  ;  "  Hounslow,  ten 
miles  this  side  London." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  cried  Martin,  stojDping  short  and  looking  at 
him. 

The  driver  sprinkled  the  fire  with  his  wet  hat  until  it  hissed 
again,  and  answered,  "  Ay,  to  be  sure  he  was." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Martin,  "  I'll  be  plain  with  you.  You 
may  suppose  from  my  dress  that  I  have  money  to  spare.  I 
have  not.  All  I  can  afford  for  coach-hire  is  a  crown,  for  I 
ha\e  but  two.  If  you  can  take  me  for  that,  and  my  waistcoat, 
or  this  silk  handkerchief,  do.     If  you  can't,  leave  it  alone." 

"  Short  and  sweet,"  remarked  the  driver. 

"  You  want  more  ?  "  said  Martin.  "  Then  I  haven't  got 
more,  and  I  can't  get  it,  so  there's  an  end  of  that."  Where- 
upon he  began  to  whistle  again. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  wanted  more,  did  1 1 "  asked  the  driver, 
with  something  like  indignation. 

"  You  didn't  say  my  olTer  was  enougli,"  rejoined  Martin. 

"  Why  how  could  I,  when  you  wouldn't  let  me  ?  In  regard 
to  the  waistcoat,  I  wouldn't  have  a  man's  waistcoat,  much  less 


MA  R  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT.  223 

a  gentleman's  waistcoat,  on  my  mind,  for  no  consideration  ; 
but  the  silk  handkerchief's  another  thing  ;  and  if  you  was 
satisfied  when  we  got  to  Hounslow,  I  shouldn't  object  to  that 
as  a  gift." 

"Is  it  a  bargain  then  ?  "  said  Martin. 
"  Yes,  it  is,"  returned  the  other. 

"  Then  finish  this  beer,"  said  Martin,  handing  him  the 
mug,  and  pulling  on  his  coat  with  great  alacrity  ;  "  and  let  us 
be  off  as  soon  as  you  like." 

In  two  minutes  more  he  had  paid  his  bill,  which  amounted 
to  a  shilling  ;  was  lying  at  full  length  on  a  truss  of  straw,  high 
and  dry  at  the  top  of  the  van,  with  the  tilt  a  little  open  in  front 
for  the  convenience  of  talking  to  his  new  friend  ;  and  was 
moving  along  ih  the  right  direction  with  a  most  satisfactory 
and  encouraging  briskness. 

The  driver's  name,  as  he  soon  informed  Martin,  was  Wil- 
liam Simmons,  better  known  as  liill  ;  and  his  spruce  appear- 
ance was  sufficiently  explained  by  his  connection  with  a  large 
stage-coaching  establishment  at  Hounslow,  whither  he  was 
conveying  his  load  from  a  farm  belonging  to  the  concern  in 
Wiltshire.  He  was  frequently  up  and  down  the  road  on  such 
errands,  he  said,  and  to  look  after  the  sick  and  rest  horses,  of 
which  animals  he'  had  much  to  relate  that  occupied  a  long 
time  in  the  telling.  He  aspired  to  the  dignity  of  the  regular 
box,  and  expected  an  appointment  on  the  first  vacancy.  He 
was  musical  besides,  and  had  a  little  keybugle  in  his  pocket, 
on  which,  whenever  the  conversation  flagged,  he  played  the 
first  part  of  a  great  many  tunes,  and  regularly  broke  down  in 
the  second. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Bill,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  drew  the  back  of  his 
hand  across  his  lips,  and  put  this  instrument  in  his  pocket, 
after  screwing  off  the  mouth-piece  to  drain  it  ;  "  Lummy  Ned 
of  the  Light  Salisbury,  he  was  the  one  for  musical  talents.  He 
was  a  guard.  What  you  may  call  a  Guard'an  Angel,  was 
Ned." 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Dead  !  "  replied  the  other,  with  a  contemptuous  emphasis. 
"  Not  he.  You  won't  catch  Ned  a  dying  easy.  No,  no.  He 
knows  better  than  that." 

"  You  spoke  of  him  in  the  past  tense,"  observed  Martin, 
"  so  I  supposed  he  was  no  more." 

"  He's  no  more  in  England,"  said  Bill,  "  if  that's  what 
you  mean.     He  went  to  the  U-nited  States." 


224 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Did  he  ?  "  asked  Martin,  with  sudden  interest.  "  When  ?  " 

"  Five  year  ago,  or  thenabout,"  said  Bill.  "  He  had  set 
up  in  the  public  line  here,  and  couldn't  meet  his  engagements, 
so  he  cut  off  to  Liverpool  one  day,  without  saying  anything 
about  it,  and  went  and  shipped  himself  for  the  U-nited  States." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  Well  !  as  he  landed  there  without  a  penny  to  bless  him- 
self with,  of  course  they  wos  very  glad  to  see  him  in  the  U-nited 
States." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Martin,  with  some  scorn. 

"  What  do  I  mean  .?  "  said  Bill.  "  Why,  that.  All  men 
are  alike  in  the  U-nited  States,  an't  they  ?  It  makes  no  odds 
whether  a  man  has  a  thousand  pound,  or  nothing,  there.  Par- 
ticular in  New  York,  I'm  told,  where  Ned  landed." 

"  New  York,  was  it  ?  "  asked  Martin,  thoughtfully, 

"  Yes,"  said  Bill.  "  New  York.  I  know  that,  because  he 
sent  word  home  that  it  brought  Old  York  to  his  mind,  quite 
wivid,  in  consequence  of  being  so  exactly  unlike  it  in  every 
respect.  I  don't  understand  wot  particular  business  Ned 
turned  his  mind  to,  when  he  got  there  ;  but  he  wrote  home 
that  him  and  his  friends  was  alwas  a  singing.  Ale  Columbia, 
and  blowing  up  the  President,  so  I  suppose  it  was  something 
in  the  public  line,  or  free-and-easy  way  again.  Any  how,  he 
made  his  fortune." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  Yes  he  did,"  said  Bill.  "  I  know  that,  because  he  lost 
it  all,  the  day  after,  in  six-and-twenty  banks  as  broke.  He 
settled  a  lot  of  the  notes  on  his  father,  when  it  was  ascertained 
that  they  was  really  stopped,  and  sent  'em  over  with  a  dutiful 
letter.  I  know  that,  because  they  was  shown  down  our  yard 
for  the  old  gentleman's  benefit,  that  he  might  treat  himself 
with  tobacco  in  the  workus." 

"  He  was  a  foolish  fellow  not  to  take  care  of  his  money 
when  he  h"ad  it,"  said  Martin,  indignantly. 

"  There  you're  right,"  said  Bill,  "especially  as  it  was  all 
in  paper,  and  he  might  have  took  care  of  it  so  very  easy,  by 
folding  it  up  in  a  small  parcel." 

Martin  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  soon  afterwards  fell 
asleep,  and  remained  so  for  an  hour  or  more.  When  he  awoke, 
finding  it  had  ceased  to  rain,  he  took  his  seat  beside  the 
driver,  and  asked  him  several  questions  ;  as  how  long  had  the 
fortunate  guard  of  the  Light  Salisbury  been  in  crossing  the 
Atlantic ;  at  what   time  of  the  year  had  he  sailed  ;  what  was 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  225 

the  name  of  the  ship  in  which  he  made  the  voyage  ;  how  much 
had  he  paid  for  passage-money ;  did  he  suffer  greatly  from 
sea-sickness  ?  and  so  forth.  But  on  these  points  of  detail, 
his  friend  was  possessed  of  little  or  no  information  ;  either 
answering  obviously  at  random,  or  acknowledging  that  he  had 
never  heard,  or  had  forgotten  ;  nor,  although  he  returned  to 
the  charge  very  often,  could  he  obtain  any  useful  intelligence 
on  these  essential  particulars. 

They  jogged  on  all  day,  and  stopped  so  often — now  to 
refresh,  now  to  change  their  team  of  horses,  now  to  exchange 
or  bring  away  a  set  of  harness,  now  on  one  point  of  business, 
and  now  upon  another,  connected  with  the  coaching  on  that 
line  of  road — that  it  was  midnight  when  they  reached  Houns- 
low.  A  little  short  of  the  stables  for  which  the  van  was 
bound,  Martin  got  down,  paid  his  crown,  and  forced  his  silk 
handkerchief  upon  his  honest  friend,  notwithstanding  the 
many  protestations  that  he  didn't  wish  to  deprive  him  of  it, 
with  which  he  tried  to  give  the  lie  to  his  longing  looks.  That 
done,  they  parted  company  ;  and  when  the  van  had  driven 
into  its  own  yard  and  the  gates  were  closed,  Martin  stood  in 
the  dark  street,  with  a  pretty  strong  sense  of  being  shut  out, 
alone,  upon  the  dreary  world,  without  the  key  of  it. 

But  in  this  moment  of  despondency,  and  often  afterwards, 
the  recollection  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  operated  as  a  cordial  to  him  ; 
awakening  in  his  breast  an  indignation  that  was  very  whole- 
some in  nerving  him  to  obstinate  endurance.  Under  the 
influence  of  this  fiery  dram  he  started  off  for  London  without 
more  ado.  Arriving  there  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  not 
knowing  where  to  find  a  tavern  open,  he  was  fain  to  stroll 
about  the  streets  and  market-places  until  morning. 

He  found  himself,  about  an  hour  before  clawn,  in  the 
humbler  regions  of  the  Adelphi ;  and  addressing  himself  to  a 
man  in  a  fur-cap  who  was  taking  down  the  shutters  of  an 
obscure  public-house,  informed  him  that  he  was  a  stranger,  and 
inquired  if  he  could  have  a  bed  there.  It  happened  by  good 
luck  that  he  could.  Though  none  of  the  gaudiest,  it  was 
tolerably  clean,  and  Martin  felt  very  glad  and  grateful  when 
he  crept  into  it,  for  wamith,  rest,  and  forgetfulness. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  awoke  ;  and  by 
the  time  he  had  washed  and  dressed,  and  broken  his  fast,  it 
was  growing  dusk  again.  This  was  all  the  better,  for  it  was 
now  a  matter  of  absolute  necessity  that  he  should  part  with  his 
watch  to  some  obliging  pawnbroker.      He  would  have  waited 

15 


2  26  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

until  after  dark  for  this  purpose,  though  it  had  been  the  longest 
day  in  the  year,  and  he  had  begun  it  without  a  breakfast. 

He  passed  more  Golden  Balls  than  all  the  jugglers  in 
Europe  have  juggled  with,  in  the  course  of  their  united  per- 
formances, before  he  could  determine  in  favor  of  any  particu- 
lar shop  where  those  symbols  were  displayed.  In  the  end,  he 
came  back  to  one  of  the  first  he  had  seen,  and  entering  by  a 
side-door  in  a  court,  where  tJie  three  balls,  with  the  legend 
"  Money  Lent,"  were  repeated  in  a  ghastly  transparency, 
passed  into  one  of  a  series  of  little  closets,  or  private  boxes, 
erected  for  the  accommodation  of  the  more  bashful  and  unin- 
itiated customers.  He  bolted  himself  in  ;  pulled  out  his 
watch  ;  and  laid  it  on  the  counter. 

"  Upon  my  life  and  soul  !  "  said  a  low  voice  in  the  next 
box  to  the  -shopman  who  was  in  treaty  with  him,  "  you  must 
make  it  more :  you  must  make  it  a  trifle  more,  you  must 
indeed  !  You  must  dispense  with  one  half-quarter  of  an 
ounce  in  weighing  out  your  pound  of  flesh,  my  best  of  friends, 
and  make  it  two-and-six." 

Martin  drew  back  involuntarily,  for  he  knew  the  voice  at 
once. 

"You're  always  full  of  your  chaff,"  said  the  shopman,  roll- 
ing up  the  article  (which  looked  like  a  shirt)  quite  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  nibbing  his  pen  upon  the  counter. 

"I  shall  never  be  full  of  my  wheat,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "as 
long  as  I  come  here.  Ha,  ha  ;  Not  bad  !  Make  it  two-and- 
six,  my  dear  friend,  positively  for  this  occasion  only.  Half-a- 
crown  is  a  delightful  coin.  Two-and-six !  Going  at  two- 
and-six  !     For  the  last  time  at  two-and-six  !  " 

"  It'll  never  be  the  last  time  till  it's  quite  worn  out," 
rejoined  the  shopman.  "  It's  grown  yellow  in  the  service  as 
it  "is." 

"  Its  master  has  grown  yellow  in  the  service,  if  you  mean 
that,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  ;  "  in  the  patriotic  service  of 
an  ungrateful  country.  You  are  making  it  two-and-six,  I 
think  }  " 

"  I'm  making  it,"  returned  the  shopman,  "what  it  always 
has  been — two  shillings.     Same  name  as  usual,  I  suppose  .''  " 

"  Still  the  same  name,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  ;  "my  claim  to  the 
dormant  peerage  not  being  yet  established  by  the  House  of 
Lords." 

"  The  old  address  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  ;  "  I  have  removed  my  town 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


227 


establishment  from  thirty-eight  Mayfair,  to  number  fifteen- 
hundred-ancl-forty-two,  Park  Lane." 

"  Come,  I'm  not  going  to  put  down  that,  you  know,"  said 
the  shopman  M'ith  a  grin. 

"  You  may  put  down  what  you  please,  my  friend,"  quoth 
Mr.  Tigg.  "  The  fact  is  still  the  same.  The  apartments  for 
the  under-butler  and  the  fifth  footman  being  of  a  most  con- 
founded low  and  vulgar  kind  at  thirty-eight  Mayfair,  I  have 
been  compelled,  in  my  regard  for  the  feelings  which  do  them 
so  much  honor,  to  take  on  lease,  for  seven,  fourteen,  or  twenty- 
one  years,  renewable  at  the  option  of  the  tenant,  the  elegant 
and  commodious  family  mansion,  number  fifteen-hundred-and- 
forty-two.  Park  Lane.  Make  it  two-and-six,  and  come  and 
see  me !  " 

The  shopman  was  so  highly  entertained  by  this  piece  of 
humor,  that  Mr.  Tigg  himself  could  not  repress  some  little 
show  of  exultation.  It  vented  itself,  \\\  part,  in  a  desire  to 
see  how  the  occupant  of  the  next  box  received  his  pleasantry  ; 
to  ascertain  which,  he  glanced  round  the  partition,  and  im- 
mediately, by  the  gaslight,  recognized  Martin. 

"  I  wish  I  may  die,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  stretchuigout  his  body 
so  far  that  his  head  was  as  much  in  Martin's  little  cell  as 
Martin's  own  head  was,  "  but  this  is  one  of  the  most  tremen- 
dous meetings  in  Ancient  or  Modern  History  !  How  are  you  ? 
What  is  the  news  from  the  agricultural  districts .-'  How  are 
our  friends  the  P.'s  ?  Ha,  ha  !  David,  pay  particular  attention 
to  this  gentleman,  immediately,  as  a  friend  of  mine,  I  beg." 

"  Here  !  Please  to  give  me  the  most  you  can  for  this," 
said  Martin,  handing  the  watch  to  the  shopman,  "  I  want 
money  sorely." 

"  He  wants  money  sorely  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tigg  with  exces- 
sive sympathy.  "  David,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  do 
your  very  utmost  for  my  friend,  who  wants  money  sorely. 
You  will  deal  with  my  friend  as  if  he  were  myself.  A  gold  hunt- 
ing-watch, David,  engine-turned,  capped  and  jewelled  in  four 
holes,  escape  movement,  horizontal  lever,  and  warranted  to 
perform  correctly,  upon  my  personal  reputation,  who  have 
observed  it  narrowly  for  many  years,  under  the  most  trying 
circumstances  :  "  here  he  winked  at  Martin,  that  he  might 
understand  this  recommendation  would  have  an  immense 
effect  upon  the  shopman  :  "what  do  you  say,  David,  to  my 
friend  ?  Be  very  particular  to  deserve  my  custom  and  recom- 
mendation, David." 


2  28  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  can  lend  you  three  pound  on  this,  if  you  like,"  said  the 
shopman  to  Martin,  confidentially.  "  It's  very  old-fashioned. 
I  couldn't  say  more." 

"  And  devilish  handsome,  too,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg.  "  Two- 
twelve-six  for  the  watch,  and  seven-and-six  for  personal  regard. 
I  am  gratified  :  it  may  be  weakness,  but  I  am.  Three  pound 
will  do.  We  take  it.  The  name  of  my  friend  is  Smivey : 
Chicken  Smivey,  of  Holborn,  twenty-six-and-a-half  B  :  lodger." 
Here  he  winked  at  Martin  again,  to  apprise  him  that  all  the 
forms  and  ceremonies  prescribed  by  law  were  now  complied 
with,  and  nothing  remained  but  the  receipt  of  the  money. 

In  point  of  fact,  this  proved  to  be  the  case,  for  Martin, 
who  had  no  resource  but  to  take  what  was  offered  him,  signi- 
fied his  acquiescence  by  a  nod  of  his  head,  and  presently 
came  out  with  the  cash  in  his  pocket.  He  was  joined  in  the 
entry  by  Mr.  Tigg,  who  warmly  congratulated  him,  as  he  took 
his  arm  and  accompanied  him  into  the  street,  on  the  success- 
ful issue  of  the  negotiation. 

"  As  for  my  part  in  the  same,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  don't  men- 
tion it.     Don't  compliment  me,  for  I  can't  bear  it !  " 

"  I  have  no  such  intention,  I  assure  you,"  retorted  Martin, 
releasing  his  arm  and  stopping. 

•'You  oblige  me  very  much,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.  "Thank 
you." 

"  Now,  sir,"  observed  Martin,  biting  his  lip,  "  this  is  a 
large  town,  and  we  can  easily  find  different  ways  in  it.  If  you 
will  show  me  which  is  your  way,  I  will  take  another." 
Mr.  Tigg  was  about  to  speak,  but  Martin  interposed  : 
"  I  need  scarcely  tell  you,  after  what  you  have  just  seen, 
that  I  have  nothing  to  bestow  upon  your  friend,  Mr.  Slyme. 
And  it  is  quite  as  unnecessary  for  me  to  tell  you  that  I  don't 
desire  the  honor  of  your  company." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  Hold  ! 
There  is  a  most  remarkably  long-headed,  flowing-bearded,  and 
patriarchal  proverb,  which  observes  that  it  is  the  duty  of  a 
man  to  be  just  before  he  is  generous.  Be  just  now,  and  you 
can  be  generous  presently.  Do  not  confuse  me  with  the  man 
Slyme.  Do  not  distinguish  the  man  Slyme  as  a  friend  of  mine, 
for  he  is  no  such  thing.  I  have  been  compelled,  sir,  to  aban- 
don the  party  whom  you  call  Slyme.  I  have  no  knowledge 
of  the  party  whom  you  call  Slyme.  I  am,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg, 
striking  himself  upon  the  breast,  "  a  premium  tulip,  of  a  very 
different  growth  and  cultivation  from  the  cabbage  Slyme,  sir." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  229 

"It  matters  very  little  to  me,"  said  Martin  coolly, 
"  whether  you  have  set  up  as  a  vagabond  on  your  own  account, 
or  are  still  trading  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Slyme.  I  wish  to  hold 
no  correspondence  with  you.  In  the  devil's  name,  man,"  said 
Martin,  scarcely  able  despite  his  vexation  to  repress  a  smile, 
as  Mr.  Tigg  stood  leaning  his  back  against  the  shutters  of  a 
shop  window,  adjusting  his  hair  with  great  composure,  "  will 
you  go  one  way  or  other  ?  " 

"You  will  allow  me  to  remind  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg, 
with  sudden  dignity,  "  that  you— not  I — that  you — I  say 
emphatically,  you — have  reduced  the  proceedings  of  this  even- 
ing to  a  cold  and  distant  matter  of  business,  when  I  was 
disposed  to  place  them  on  a  friendly  footing.  It  being  made 
a  matter  of  business,  sir,  I  beg  to  say  that  I  expect  a  trifle 
(which  I  shall  bestow  in  charity)  as  commission  upon  the 
pecuniary  advance,  in  which  I  have  rendered  you  my  humble 
services.  After  the  terms  in  which  you  have  addressed  me, 
sir,"  concluded  Mr.  Tigg,  "  you  will  not  insult  me,  if  you 
please,  by  offering  more  than  half-a-crown." 

Martin  drew  that  piece  of  money  from  his  pocket,  and 
tossed  it  towards  him.  Mr.  Tigg  caught  it,  looked  at  it  to 
assure  himself  of  its  goodness,  spun  it  in  the  air  after  the 
manner  of  a  pieman,  and  buttoned  it  up.  Finally,  he  raised 
his  hat  an  inch  or  two  from  his  head,  with  a  military  air,  and, 
after  pausing  a  moment  with  deep  gravity,  as  to  decide  in 
which  direction  he  should  go,  and  to  what  Earl  or  Marquis 
among  his  friends  he  should  give  the  preference  in  his  next 
call,  stuck  his  hands  in  his  skirt-pockets  and  swaggered  round 
the  corner.  Martin  took  the  directly  opposite  course  ;  and 
so,  to  his  great  content,  they  parted  company. 

It  was  with  a  bitter  sense  of  humiliation  that  he  cursed, 
again  and  again,  the  mischance  of  ha\ing  encountered  this 
man  in  the  pawnbroker's  shop.  The  only  comfort  he  had  in 
the  recollection  was,  Mr.  Tigg's  voluntary  avowal  of  a  separa- 
tion between  himself  and  Slyme,  that  would  at  least  prevent 
his  circumstances  (so  Martin  argued)  from  being  known  to 
any  member  of  his  family,  the  bare  possibility  of  which  filled 
him  with  shame  and  wounded  pride.  Abstractedly,  there  was 
greater  reason,  perhaps,  for  supposing  any  declaration  of  Mr. 
Tigg's  to  be  false,  than  for  attaching  the  least  credence  to  it  ; 
but  remembering  the  terms  on  which  the  intimacy  between 
that  gentleman  and  his  bosom  friend  had  subsisted,  and  the 
strong  probability  of  Mr,  Tigg's  having  established  an  inde- 


230 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


pendent  business  of  his  own  on  Mr.  Slyme's  connection,  it  had 
a  reasonable  appearance  of  probabiUty  ;  at  all  events,  Martin 
hoped  so  ;  and  that  went  a  long  way. 

His  first  step,  now  that  he  had  a  supply  of  ready  money 
for  his  present  necessities,  was,  to  retain  his  bed  at  the  public- 
house  until  further  notice,  and  to  write  a  formal  note  to  Tom 
Pinch  (for  he  knew  Pecksniff  would  see  it)  requesting  to  have 
his  clothes  forwarded  to  London  by  coach,  with  a  direction 
to  be  left  at  the  office  until  called  for.  These  measures 
taken,  he  passed  the  interval  before  the  box  arrived — three 
days — in  making  inquiries  relative  to  American  vessels,  at  the 
offices  of  various  shipping-agents  in  the  city  ;  and  in  lingering 
about  the  docks  and  wharv^es,  with  the  faint  hope  of  stumbling 
upon  some  engagement  for  the  voyage,  as  clerk  or  supercargo, 
or  custodian  of  something  or  somebody,  which  would  enable 
him  to  procure  a  free  passage.  But,  finding,  soon,  that  no 
such  means  of  employment  were  likely  to  present  themselves, 
and  dreading  the  consequences  of  delay,  he  drew  up  a  short 
advertisement,  stating  what  he  wanted,  and  inserted  it  in  the 
leading  newspapers.  Pending  the  receipt  of  the  twenty  or 
thirty  answers  which  he  vaguely  expected,  he  reduced  his 
wardrobe  to  the  narrowest  limits  consistent  with  decent  re- 
spectability, and  carried  the  overplus  at  different  times  to  the 
pawnbroker's  shop,  for  conversion  into  money. 

And  it  was  strange,  very  strange,  even  to  himself,  to  find, 
how  by  quick  though  almost  imperceptible  degrees  he  lost  his 
delicacy  and  self-respect,  and  gradually  came  to  do  that  as  a 
matter  of  course,  without  the  least  compunction,  which  but  a 
few  short  days  before  had  galled  him  to  the  quick.  The  first 
time  he  visited  the  pawnbroker's,  he  felt  on  his  way  there  as 
if  every  person  whom  he  passed  suspected  whither  he  was 
going ;  and  on  his  way  back  agam  as  if  the  whole  human  tide 
he  stemmed,  knew  well  where  he  had  come  from.  When  did 
he  care  to  think  of  their  discernment  now  !  In  his  first  wan- 
derings up  and  down  the  wear}'  streets,  he  counterfeited  the 
walk  of  one  who  had  an  object  in  his  view  ;  but,  soon  there 
came  upon  him  the  sauntering,  slipshod  gait  of  listless  idle- 
ness, and  the  lounging  at  street-corners,  and  plucking  and 
biting  of  stray  bits  of  straw,  and  strolling  up  and  down  the 
same  place,  and  looking  into  the  same  shop-windows,  with  a 
miserable  indifference,  fifty  times  a  day.  At  first,  he  came 
out  from  his  lodging  with  an  uneasv  sense  of  being  obser\-ed 
— even  by  those  chance  passers-by,  on  whom  he  had  never 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  231 

looked  before,  and  hundreds  to  one  would  never  see  again — 
issuing  in  the  morning  from  a  public-house ;  but  now,  in  his 
comings-out  and  goings-in  he  did  not  mind  to  lounge  about 
the  door,  or  to  stand  sunning  himself  in  careless  thought 
beside  the  wooden  stem,  studded  from  head  to  heel  with  pegs, 
on  which  the  beer-pots  dangled  like  so  many  boughs  upon  a 
pewter-tree.  And  yet  it  took  but  five  weeks  to  reach  the  low- 
est round  of  this  tall  ladder  ! 

Oh,  moralists,  who  treat  of  happiness  and  self-respect, 
innate  in  every  sphere  of  life,  and  shedding  light  on  ever}' 
grain  of  dust  in  God's  highway,  so  smooth  below  your  car- 
riage-wheels, so  rough  beneath  the  tread  of  naked  feet, 
bethink  yourselves  in  looking  on  the  swift  descent  of  men  who 
have  lived  in  their  own  esteem,  that  there  are  scores  of  thou- 
sands breathing  "^now,  and  breathing  thick  with  painful  toil, 
who  in  that  high  respect  have  never  lived  at  all,  nor  had  a 
chance  of  life  !  Go  ye,  who  rest  so  placidly  upon  the  sacred 
Bard  who  had  been  young,  and  when  he  strung  his  harp  was 
old,  and  had  never  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  or  his  seed 
begging  their  bread  ;  go,  Teachers  of  content  and  honest 
pride,  into  the  mine,  the  mill,  the  forge,  the  squalid  depths  of 
deepest  ignorance,  and  uttermost  abyss  of  man's  neglect,  and 
say  can  any  hopeful  plant  spring  up  in  air  so  foul  that  it 
extinguishes  the  soul's  bright  torch  as  fast  as  it  is  kindled  1 
And,  oh  !  ye  Pharisees  of  the  nineteen  hundredth  year  of 
Christian  Knowledge,  who  soundingly  appeal  to  human 
nature,  see  first  that  it  be  human.  Take  heed  it  has  not 
been  transformed,  during  your  slumber  and  the  sleep  of  gener- 
ations, into  the  nature  of  the  Beasts. 

Five  weeks  !  Of  all  the  twenty  or  thirty  answers,  not  one 
had  come.  His  money,  even  the  additional  stock  he  had 
raised  from  the  disposal  of  his  spare  clothes  (and  that  was 
not  much,  for  clothes,  though  dear  to  buy,  are  cheap  to  pawn), 
was  fast  diminishing.  Yet  what  could  he  do  .-'  At  times  an 
agony  came  over  him  in  which  he  darted  forth  again,  though 
he  was  but  newly  home,  and,  returning  to  some  place  where 
he  had  been  already  twenty  times,  made  some  new  attempt  to 
gain  his  end,  but  always  unsuccessfully.  He  was  years  and 
years  too  old  for  a  cabin  boy,  and  years  upon  years  too  inex- 
perienced to  be  accepted  as  a  common  seaman.  His  dress 
and  manner,  too,  militated  fatally  against  any  such  proposal 
as  the  latter  ;  and  yet  he  was  reduced  to  making  it  ;  for,  even 
if  he  could  have  contemplated  the  being  set  down  in  America, 


232 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


totally  without  money,  he  had  not  enough  left  now  for  a  steer- 
age-passage and  the  poorest  provisions  upon  the  voyage. 

It  is  an  illustration  of  a  very  common  tendency  in  the 
mind  of  man,  that  all  this  time  he  never  once  doubted,  one 
may  almost  say  the  certainty  of  doing  great  things  in  the  New 
World,  if  he  could  only  get  there.  In  proportion  as  he  be- 
came more  and  more  dejected  by  his  present  circumstances, 
and  the  means  of  gaining  America  receded  from  his  grasp,  the 
more  he  fretted  himself  with  the  conviction  that  that  was  the 
only  place  in  which  he  could  hope  to  achieve  any  high  end, 
and  worried  his  brain  with  the  thought  that  men  going  there 
in  the  meanwhile  might  anticipate  him  in  the  attainment  of 
those  objects  whicli  were  dearest  to  his  heart.  He  often 
thought  of  John  Westlock,  and  besides  looking  out  for  him  on 
all  occasions,  actually  walked  about  London  for  three  days 
together,  for  the  express  purpose  of  meeting  with  him.  But, 
although  he  failed  in  this  ;  and  although  he  would  not  have 
scrupled  to  borrow  money  of  him ;  and  although  he  believed 
that  John  would  have  lent  it ;  yet  still  he  could  not  bring  his 
mind  to  write  to  Pinch  and  inquire  where  he  was  to  be  found. 
For  although,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was  fond  of  Tom  after  his 
own  fashion,  he  could  not  endure  the  thought  (feeling  so  superior 
to  Tom)  of  making  him  the  stepping-stone  to  his  fortune,  or 
being  anything  to  him  but  a  patron  ;  and  his  pride  so  revolted 
from  the  idea,  that  it  restrained  him  even  now. 

It  might  have  yielded,  however  ;  and  no  doubt  must  have 
yielded  soon,  but  for  a  very  strange  and  unlooked-for  occurrence. 
•  The  five  weeks  had  quite  run  out,  and  he  was  in  a  truly 
desperate  plight,  when  one  evening,  having  just  returned  to 
his  lodging,  and  being  in  the  act  of  lighting  his  candle  at  the 
gas  jet  in  the  bar  before  stalking  moodily  up  stairs  to  his  own 
room,  his  landlord  called  him  by  his  name.  Now,  as  he  had 
never  told  it  to  the  man,  but  had  scrupulously  kept  it  to  him- 
self, he  was  not  a  little  startled  by  this  ;  and  so  plainly  showed 
his  agitation,  that  the  landlord,  to  re-assure  him,  said  "  it 
was  only  a  letter." 

"  A  letter  !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  For  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  said  the  landlord,  reading 
the  superscription  of  one  he  held  in  his  hand.  "  Noon.  Chief 
office.     Paid." 

Martin  took  it  from  him,  thanked  him  and  walked  up  stairs. 
It  was  not  sealed,  but  pasted  close  ;  the  handwriting  was  quite 
unknown  to  him.     He  opened  it,  and  found  enclosed,  without 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


^2>l 


any  name,  address,  or  other  inscription  or  explanation  of  any 
kind  whatever,  a  Bank  of  England  note  for  Twenty  Pounds. 

To  say  that  he  was  perfectly  stunned  with  astonishment 
and  delight  ;  that  he  looked  again  and  again  at  the  note  and 
the  wrapper  ;  diat  he  hurried  below  stairs  to  make  quite  cer- 
tain that  the  note  was  a  good  note  ;  and  then  hurried  up  again 
to  satisfy  himself  for  the  fiftieth  time  that  he  had  not  over- 
looked some  scrap  of  writing  on  the  wrapper ;  that  he  ex- 
hausted and  bewildered  hunself  with  conjectures  ;  and  could 
make  nothing  of  it  but  that  there  the  note  was,  and  he  was 
suddenly  enriched  ;  would  be  only  to  relate  so  many  matters 
of  course,  to  no  purpose.  The  final  upshot  of  the  business  at 
that  time  was,  that  he  resolved  to  treat  himself  to  a  comforta- 
ble but  frugal  meal  in  his  own  chamber ;  and  having  ordered 
a  fire  to  be  kindled,  went  out  to  purchase  it  forthwith. 

He  bought  some  cold  beef,  and  ham,  and  French  bread, 
and  butter,  and  came  back  with  his  pockets  pretty  heavily 
laden.  It  was  somewhat  of  a  damping  circumstance  to  find 
the  room  full  of  smoke,  which  was  attributable  to  two  causes : 
firstly,  to  the  flue  being  naturally  vicious  and  a  smoker  ;  and 
secondly  to  their  having  forgotten,  in  lighting  the  fire,  an  odd 
sack  or  two  and  some  trifles,  which  had  been  put  up  the  chim- 
ney to  keep  the  rain  out.  They  had  already  remedied  this  over- 
sight, ho\Vever ;  and  propped  up  the  window-sash  with  a  bun- 
dle of  firewood  to  keep  it  open  ;  so  that  except  in  being 
rather  inflammatory  to  the  eyes  and  choking  to  the  lungs, 
the  apartment  was  quite  comfortable. 

Martin  was  in  no  vein  to  quarrel  with  it,  if  it  had  been  in 
less  tolerable  order,  especially  when  a  gleaming  pint  of  porter 
was  set  upon  the  table,  and  the  servant  girl  withdrew,  bearing 
with  her  particular  instructions  relative  to  the  production  of 
something  hot,  when  he  should  ring  the  bell.  The  cold  meat 
being  wrapped  in  a  play-bill,  Martin  laid  the  cloth  by  spread- 
ing that  document  on  the  little  round  table  with  the  print 
downwards  ;  and  arranging  the  collation  upon  it.  The  foot 
of  the  bed,  which  was  very  close  to  the  fire,  answered  for  a 
sideboard  ;  and  when  he  had  completed  these  preparations, 
he  squeezed  an  old  arm-chair  into  the  warmest  corner,  and 
sat  down  to  enjoy  himself. 

He  had  begun  to  eat  with  great  appetite,  glancing  round 
the  room  meanwhile  with  a  triumphant  anticipation  of  quitting 
it  for  ever  on  the  morrow,  wlien  his  attention  was  arrested  by 
a  stealthy  footstep  on  the  stairs,  and  presently  by  a  knock  at 


234  ^^  ^  TYiV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

his  chamber  door,  which,  although  it  was  a  gentle  knock 
enough,  communicated  such  a  start  to  the  bundle  of  firewood, 
that  it  instantly  leaped  out  of  window,  and  plunged  into  the 
street. 

"  More  coals,  I,  suppose,"  said  Martin.     "I^ome  in  !  " 

"  It  an't  a  liberty,  sir,  though  it  seems  so,"  rejoined  a 
man's  voice.  "  Your  servant,  sir.  Hope  you're  pretty  well, 
sir." 

Martin  stared  at  the  face  that  was  bowing  in  the  door- 
way ;  perfectly  remembering  the  features  and  expression,  but 
quite  forgetting  to  whom  they  belonged. 

"  Tapley,  sir,"  said  his  visitor.  "  Him  as  formerly  lived 
at  the  Dragon,  sir,  and  was  forced  to  leave  in  consequence  of 
a  want  of  jollity,  sir." 

"  To  be  sure  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  Why,  how  did  you  come 
here  ?  " 

"  Right  through  the  passage,  and  up  the  stairs,  sir,"  said 
Mark. 

"  How  did  you  find  me  out,  I  mean  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"Why,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "I've  passed  you  once  or  twice 
in  the  street  if  I'm  not  mistaken  ;  and  when  I  was  a  looking 
in  at  the  beef-and-ham  shop  just  now,  along  with  a  hungry 
sweep,  as  was  very  much  calculated  to  make  a  man  jolly,  sir, 
I  see  you  a  buying  that." 

Martin  reddened  as  he  pointed  to  the  table,  and  said, 
somewhat  hastily  : 

"  Well  !     What  then  ?  " 

"  Why  then,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I  made  bold  to  foller ;  and 
as  I  told  'em  down  stairs  that  you  expected  me,  I  was  let  up." 

"  Are  you  charged  with  any  message,  that  you  told  them 
you  were  expected  ?  "  inquired  Martin. 

"  No,  sir,  I  an't,"  said  Mark.  "  That  was  what  you  may 
call  a  pious  fraud,  sir,  that  was." 

Martin  cast  an  angry  look  at  him ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  fellow's  merry  face,  and  in  his  manner,  which 
with  all  its  cheerfulness  was  far  from  being  obtrusive  or 
familiar,  that  quite  disarmed  him.  He  had  lived  a  solitary 
life  too,  for  many  weeks,  and  the  voice  was  pleasant  in  his  ear. 

"  Tapley,"  he  said,  "  I'll  deal  openly  with  you.  From  all  I 
can  judge,  and  from  all  I  have  heard  of  you  through  Pinch, 
you  are  not  a  likely  kind  of  fellow  to  have  been  brought  here 
by  impertinent  curiosity  or  any  other  offensive  motive.  Sit 
down.     I'm  glad  to  see  you." 


MA  R  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT.  235 

"  Thankee,  sir,"  said  Mark.     "  I'd  as  lieve  stand." 

"  If  you  don't  sit  down,"  retorted  Martin,  "  I'll  not  talk  to 
you." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  observed  Mark.  "  Your  will's  a  law, 
sir.  Down  it  is ; "  and  he  sat  down  accordingly,  upon  the 
bedstead. 

"  Help  yourself,"  said  Martin,  handing  him  the  only  knife. 

"  Thankee,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.     "  After  you've  done." 

"  If  you  don't  take  it  now,  you'll  not  have  any,"  said 
Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.  "That  being  your  de- 
sire— now  it  is."  With  which  reply  he  gravely  helped  him- 
self, and  went  on  eating.  Martin  having  done  the  like  for  a 
short  time  in  sUence,  said  abruptly : 

"What  are  you  doing  in  London  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark. 

"  How's  that  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  I  want  a  place,"  said  Mark. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,"  said  Martin. 

"  — To  attend  upon  a  single  gentleman,"  resumed  Mark. 
"  If  from  the  countiy  the  more  desirable.  Makeshifts  would 
be  preferred.     Wages  no  object." 

He  said  this  so  pointedly,  that  Martin  stopped  in  his  eat- 
ing, and  said  : 

"If  you  mean  me — " 

"  Yes,  I  do,  sir,"  interposed  Mark. 

"  Then  you  may  judge  from  my  style  of  living  here,  of  my 
means  of  keeping  a  man-servant.  Besides,  I  am  going  to 
America  immediately." 

"  Well,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  quite  unmoved  by  this  intel- 
ligence, "  from  all  that  ever  I  heard  about  it,  I  should  say 
America  is  a  veiy  likely  sort  of  place  for  me  to  be  jolly  in  !  " 

Again  Martin  looked  at  him  angrily ;  and  again  his  anger 
melted  away  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Lord  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "what  is  the  use  of  us 
a  going  round  and  round,  and  hiding  behind  the  corner,  and 
dodging  up  and  down,  when  we  can  come  straight  to  the 
point  in  six  words  t  I've  had  my  e}-e  upon  you  any  time  this 
fortnight.  I  see  well  enough  there's  a  screw  loose  in  your 
affairs.  I  know'd  well  enough  the  first  time  I  see  you  clow^n 
at  the  Dragon  that  it  must  be  so,  sooner  or  later.  Now,  sir, 
here  am  I,  without  a  sitiwation  ;  without  any  want  of  wages 
for  a  year  to  come  ;  for   I    saved  up  (I  didn't  mean  to  do  it, 


236  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

but  I  couldn't  help  it)  at  the  Dragon — here  am  I  with  a  liking 
for  what's  wentersome,  and  a  liking  for  you,  and  a  wish  to 
come  out  strong  under  circumstances  as  would  keep  other 
men  down  :  and  will  you  take  me,  or  will  you  leave  me  ? " 

"  How  can  I  take  you  ?"  cried  Martin. 

"  When  I  say  take,"  rejoined  Mark,  "  I  mean  will  you  let 
me  go  ?  and  when  I  say  will  you  let  me  go,  I  mean  will 
you  let  me  go  along  with  you  ?  for  go  I  will,  somehow  or 
another.  Now  that  you've  said  America,  I  see  clear  at 
once,  that  that's  the  place  for  me  to  be  jolly  in.  Therefore, 
if  I  don't  pay  my  own  passage  in  the  ship  you  go  in,  sir, 
I'll  pay  my  own  passage  in  another.  And  mark  my 
words,  if  I  go  alone  it  shall  be,  to  carry  out  the  principle,  in 
the  rottonest,  craziest,  leakingest  tub  of  a  wessel  that  a  place 
can  be  got  in  for  love  or  money.  So  if  I'm  lost  upon  the 
way,  sir,  there'll  be  a  drowned  man  at  your  door — and  always 
a  knocking  double  knocks  at  it,  too,  or  never  trust  me  !  " 

"  This  is  mere  folly,"  said  Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  it, 
because  if  you  don't  mean  to  let  me  go,  you'll  be  more  com- 
fortable, perhaps,  on  account  of  thinking  so.  Therefore  I  con- 
tradict no  gentleman.  But  all  I  say  is,  that  if  I  don't  emigrate 
to  America  in  that  case,  in  the  beastliest  old  cockleshell  as 
goes  out  of  port,  I'm " 

"  You  don't  mean  what  you  say,  I'm  sure,"  said  Martin. 

"Yes  I  do,"  cried  Mark. 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  better,"  rejoined  Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mark,  with  the  same  air  of  perfect 
satisfaction.  "  Let  it  stand  that  way  at  present,  sir,  and  wait 
and  see  how  it  turns  out.  Why,  love  my  heart  alive  !  the  only 
doubt  I  have  is,  whether  there's  any  credit  in  going  with  a 
gentleman  like  you,  that's  as  certain  to  make  his  way  there  as 
a  gimlet  is  to  go  through  soft  deal." 

This  was  touching  Martin  on  his  weak  point,  and  having  him 
at  a  great  advantage.  He  could  not  help  thinking,  either,  what 
a  brisk  fellow  this  Mark  was,  and  how  great  a  change  he  had 
wrought  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  dismal  little  room  already. 

"  Why,  certainly,  Mark,"  he  said,  "  I  have  hopes  of  doing 
well  there,  or  I  shouldn't  go.  I  may  have  the  qualifications 
for  doing  well,  perhaps." 

"  Of  course  you  have,  sir,"  returned  Mark  Tapley. 
"  E'/erybody  knows  that." 

"  You  see,"  said   Martin,  leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


237 


and  looking  at  the  fire,  "  ornamental  architecture  applied  to 
domestic  purposes,  can  hardly  fail  to  be  \\\  great  request  in 
that  country  ;  for  men  are  constantly  changing  their  resi- 
dences there,  and  moving  further  off  ;  and  it's  clear  they  must 
have  houses  to  live  in." 

"  I  should  say.  sir,"  observed  Mark,  "  that  that's  a  state  of 
things  as  opens  one  of  the  jolliest  look-outs  for  domestic  ar- 
chitecture that  ever  I  heerd  tell  on." 

"  Martin  glanced  at  him  hastily,  not  feeling  quite  free  from 
a  suspicion  that  this  remark  implied  a  doubt  of  the  success- 
ful issue  of  his  plans.  But  Mr.  Tapley  was  eating  the  boiled 
beef  and  bread  with  such  entire  good  faith  and  singleness  of 
purpose  expressed  in  his  visage,  that  he  could  not  but  be  satis- 
fied. Another  doubt  arose  in  his  mind,  however,  as  this  one 
disappeared.  He  produced  the  blank  cover  in  which  the  note 
had  been  enclosed,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  Mark  as  he  put  it 
in  his  hands,  said, 

"  Now  tell  me  the  truth.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
that?'' 

Mark  turned  it  over  and  over  ;  held  it  near  his  eyes  ; 
held  it  away  from  him  at  arm's  length ,  held  it  with  the  su- 
perscription upwards,  and  with  the  superscription  downwards  ; 
and  shook  his  head  with  such  a  genuine  expression  of  aston- 
ishment at  being  asked  the  question,  that  Martin  said,  as  he 
took  it  from  him  again  : 

"  No,  I  see  you  don't.  How  should  you  ?  Though,  in- 
deed, your  knowing  about  it  would  not  be  more  extraordinary 
than  it's  being  here.  Come,  Tapley,"  he  added,  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought,  "I'll  trust  you  with  my  history,  such  as  it  is, 
and  then  you'll  see,  more  clearly,  what  sort  of  fortunes  you 
would  link  yourself  to,  if  you  followed  me." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mark  ;  "  but  afore  you  en- 
ter upon  it,  will  you  take  me  if  I  choose  to  go  .''  Will  you  turn 
off  me,  Mark  Tapley,  formerly  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  as  can  be 
well  recommended  by  Mr.  Pinch,  and  as  wants  a  gentleman 
of  your  strength  of  mind  to  look  up  to  ;  or  will  you,  in  climb- 
ing the  ladder  as  you're  certain  to  get  to  the  top  of,  take  me 
along  with  you  at  a  respectful  distance  .-'  Now,  sir,"  said 
Mark,  "  it's  of  very  little  importance  to  you  I  know ;  there's 
the  difficulty  ;  but  it's  of  very  great  importance  to  me,  and 
will  you  be  so  good  as  to  consider  of  it .''  " 

If  this  were  meant  as  a  second  appeal  10  Martin's  weak 
side,  founded  on  his  observation  of  the  effect  of  the  first,  Mr. 


238  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Tapley  was  a  skilful  and  shrewd  observer.  Whether  an 
intentional  or  an  accidental  shot,  it  hit  the  mark  full ,  for 
Martin,  relenting  more  and  more,  said,  with  a  condescension 
which  was  inexpressibly  delicious  to  him,  after  his  recent  hu- 
miliation : 

"  We'll  see  about  it,  Tapley.  You  shall  tell  me  in  what  dis- 
position you  find  yourself  to-morrow." 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  Mark,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  the  job's  done. 
Go  on,  sir,  if  you  please.     I'm  all  attention." 

Throwing  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and  looking  at  the 
fire,  with  now  and  then  a  glance  at  Mark,  who  at  such  times 
nodded  his  head  sagely,  to  express  his  profound  interest  and 
attention ;  Martin  ran  over  the  chief  points  in  his  history,  to 
the  same  effect  as  he  had  related  them,  weeks  before,  to  Mr. 
Pinch.  But  he  adapted  them,  according  to  the  best  of  his 
judgment,  to  Mr.  Tapley's  comprehension  ;  and  with  that  view 
made  as  light  of  his  love  affair  as  he  could,  and  referred  to  it 
in  very  few  words.  But  here  he  reckoned  without  his  host ; 
for  Mark's  interest  was  keenest  in  this  part  of  the  business, 
and  prompted  him  to  ask  sundry  questions  in  relation  to  it  ; 
for  which  he  apologized  as  one  in  some  measure  privileged  to 
do  so,  from  having  seen  (as  Martin  explained  to  him)  the  young 
lady  at  the  Blue  Dragon. 

"  And  a  young  lady  as  any  gentleman  ought  to  feel  more 
proud  of  being  in  love  with,"  said  Mark,  energetically,  "  don't 
draw  breath." 

"  Ay  !  You  saw  her  when  she  was  not  happy,"  said  Mar- 
tin, gazing  at  the  fire  again.  "  If  you  had  seen  her  in  the  old 
times,  indeed — " 

"  Why,  she  certainly  was  a  little  down-hearted,  sir,  and 
something  paler  in  her  color  than  I  could  have  wished,"  said 
Mark,  "  but  none  the  worse  in  her  looks  for  that.  I  think 
she  seemed  better,  sir,  after  she  come  to  London." 

Martin  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  fire  ;  stared  at  Mark  as 
if  he  thought  he  had  suddenly  gone  mad  ;  and  asked  him  what 
he  meant. 

"  No  offence  intended,  sir,"  urged  Mark.  "  I  don't  mean 
to  say  she  was  any  the  haj^pier  without  you  ;  but  I  thought 
she  was  a  looking  better,  sir." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she  has  been  in  London  .''  "  asked 
Martin,  rising  hurriedly,  and  pushing  back  his  chair. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Mark,  rising  too,  in  great  amaze- 
ment from  the  bedstead. 


II 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  239 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she  is  in  London  now  ? " 

"  Most  likely,  sir.     I  mean  to  say  she  was,  a  week  ago." 

"  And  you  know  where  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  Mark.     "  What !     Don't  you  ?  " 

"  My  good  fellow  !  "  exclaimed  Martin,  clutching  him  by 
both  arms,  "  I  have  never  seen  her  since  1  left  my  grandfather's 
house." 

"  Why  then  !  "  cried  Mark,  giving  the  little  table  such  a 
blow  with  his  clenched  fist  that  the  slices  of  beef  and  ham 
danced  upon  it,  while  all  his  features  seemed,  with  deligdit,  to 
be  going  up  into  his  forehead,  and  never  coming  back  again  any 
more,  "  if  I  an't  your  nat'ral  born  servant,  hired  by  Fate,  there 
an't  such  a  thing  in  natur'  as  a  Blue  Dragon.  What !  when  I  was 
a  rambling  up  and  down  a  old  churchyard  in  the  City,  getting 
myself  into  a  joMy  state,  didn't  I  see  your  grandfather  a  tod- 
dling to  and  fro  for  pretty  nigh  a  mortal  hour  !  Didn't  I  watch 
him  into  Codgers's  commercial  boarding-house,  and  watch  him 
out  and  watch  him  home  to  his  hotel,  and  go  and  tell  him  as 
his  was  the  ser\'ice  for  my  money,  and  I  had  said  so,  afore  I 
left  the  Dragon  !  Wasn't  the  young  lady  a  sitting  with  him  then, 
and  didn't  she  fall  a  laughing  in  a  manner  as  was  beautiful  to 
see  !  Didn't  your  grandfather  say,  '  Come  back  again  next 
week,  and  didn't  I  go  next  week  ;'  and  didn't  he  say  that  he 
couldn't  make  up  his  mind  to  trust  nobody  no  more  ;  and  there- 
fore wouldn't  engage  me  ;  but  at  the  same  time  stood  some- 
thing to  drink  as  was  handsome  !  Why,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley, 
with  a  comical  mixture  of  delight  and  chagrin,  "  where's  the 
credit  of  a  man'c  being  jolly  under  such  circumstances  !  Who 
could  help  it,  when  things  come  about  like  this  !  " 

For  some  moments,  \lartin  stood  gazing  at  him,  as  if  he 
really  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  senses,  and  could  not  be- 
lieve that  Mark  stood  there,  in  the  body,  before  him.  At 
length  he  asked  him  whether,  if  the  young  lady  were  still  in 
London,  he  thought  he  could  contrive  to  deliver  a  letter  to 
her  secretly. 

"  Do  I  think  I  can  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  lliinJz  I  can  !  Here, 
sit  down,  sir.     Write  it  out,  sir!  " 

With  that  he  cleared  the  table  by  the  summary  process  of 
tilting  everj'thing  upon  it  into  the  fire-place  ;  snatched  some 
writing  materials  from  the  mantle-shelf  ;  set  Martin's  chair 
before  them  ;  forced  him  down  into  it ;  dipped  a  pen  into  the 
ink  ;  and  put  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Cut  away,  sir  ! "  cried  Mark.  "  Make  it  strong,  sir.     Let 


240  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

it  be  wery  pinted,  sir.  Do  I  think  so  ?  /  should  think  so. 
Go  to  work,  sir !  " 

Martin  required  no  further  adjuration,  but  went  to  work  at 
a  great  rate  ;  while  Mr.  Tapley,  installing  himself  without  any 
more  formalities  into  the  functions  of  his  valet  and  general 
attendant,  divested  himself  of  his  coat,  and  went  on  to  clear 
the  fire-place  and  arrange  the  room  ;  talking  to  himself  in  a 
low  voice  the  whole  time. 

"  Jolly  sort  of  lodgings,"  said  Mark,  rubbing  his  nose  with 
the  nob  at  the  end  of  the  fire-shovel,  and  looking  round  the 
poor  chamber  :  "  that's  a  comfort.  The  rain's  come  through 
the  roof  too.  That  an't  bad.  A  lively  old  bedstead,  I'll  be 
bound  ;  popilated  by  lots  of  wampires,  no  doubt.  Come  !  my 
spirits  is  a  getting  up  again.  An  uncommon  ragged  nightcap 
this.  A  very  good  sign.  We  shall  do  yet !  Here  Jane,  my 
dear,"  calling  down  the  stairs,"bringupthat  there  hot  tumbler 
for  my  master  as  was  a  mixing  when  I  come  in.  That's  right, 
sir,"  to  Martin.  "  Go  at  it  as  if  you  meant  it,  sir.  Be  very 
tender,  sir,  if  you  please.     You  can't  make  it  too  strong,  sir  i" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  WHICH  MARTIN  BIDS  ADIEU  TO  THE  LADY  OF  HIS  LOVE  \ 
AND  HONORS  AN  OBSCURE  INDIVIDUAL  WHOSE  FORTUNE 
HE  INTENDS  TO  MAKE,  BY  COMMENDING  HER  TO  HIS  PRO- 
TECTION. 

The  letter  being  duly  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  was 
handed  to  Mark  Tapley,  for  immediate  conveyance  if  pos- 
sible. And  he  succeeded  so  well  in  his  embassy  as  to  be  ena- 
bled to  return  that  same  night,  just  as  the  house  was  closing, 
with  the  welcome  intelligence  that  he  had  sent  it  up  stairs  to 
the  young  lady,  enclosed  in  a  small  manuscript  of  his  own,  pur- 
porting to  contain  his  further  petition  to  be  engaged  in  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit's  ser\-ice  ;  and  that  she  had  herself  come  down  and 
told  him,  in  great  haste  and  agitation  that  slie  would  meet  the 
gentleman  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  in  St.  James's 
Park.  It  was  then  agreed  between  the  new  master  and  the 
new  man,  that  Mark  should  be  in  waiting  near  the  hotel  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  241 

good  time,  to  escort  the  young  lady  to  the  place  of  appoint- 
ment ;  and  when  they  had  parted  for  the  night  with  this  under- 
standing, Martin  took  up  his  pen  again  ;  and  before  he  went 
to  bed  wrote  another  letter,  whereof  more  will  be  seen  pres- 
ently. 

He  was  up  before  day-break,  and  came  upon  the  Park 
with  the  morning,  which  was  clad  in  the  least  engagmg  of  the 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  dresses  in  the  wardrobe  of  the 
year.  It  was  raw,  damp,  dark,  and  dismal ;  the  clouds  were 
as  muddy  as  the  ground  ;  and  the  short  perspective  of  every 
street  and  avenue,  was  closed  up  by  the  mist  as  by  a  filthy 
curtain. 

"  P^ine  weather  indeed,"  Martin  bitterly  soliloquized,  "  to 
be  wandering  up_^  and  down  here  in,  like  a  thief  !  Fine 
weather  indeed,  for  a  meeting  of  lovers  in  the  open  air,  and 
in  a  public  walk  !  I  need  be  departing,  with  all  speed,  for 
another  country ;  for  I  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  in  this !  " 

He  might  perhaps  have  gone  on  to  reflect  that  of  all 
mornings  in  the  year,  it  was  not  the  best  calculated  for  a 
young  lady's  coming  forth  on  such  an  errand,  either.  But  he 
was  stopped  on  the  road  to  this  reflection,  if  his  thoughts 
tended  that  way,  by  her  appearance  at  a  short  distance,  on 
which  he  hurried  forward  to  meet  her.  Her  squire,  Mr. 
Tapley,  at  the  same  time,  fell  discreetly  back,  and  surveyed 
the  fog  above  him  with  an  appearance  of  attentive  interest. 

"  My  dear  Martin,"  said  Mary. 

"  My  dear  Mary,"  said  Martin  ;  and  lovers  are  such  a 
singular  kind  of  people  that  this  is  all  they  did  say  just  then, 
though  Martin  took  her  arm,  and  her  hand  too,  and  they 
paced  up  and  down  a  short  walk  that  was  least  exposed  to 
observation,  half-a-dozen  times. 

"  If  you  have  changed  at  all,  my  love,  since  we  parted," 
said  Martin  at  length,  as  he  looked  upon  her  with  a  proud 
delight,  "  it  is  only  to  be  more  beautiful  than  ever  ! " 

Had  she  been  of  the  common  metal  of  love-worn  j'oung 
ladies,  she  would  have  denied  this  in  her  most  interesting 
manner,  and  would  have  told  him  (hat  she  knew  she  had  be- 
come a  perfect  fright  ;  or  that  she  had  wasted  away  with 
weeping  and  anxiety ;  or  that  she  was  dwindling  gently  into 
an  early  grave  ;  or  that  her  mental  sufferings  we-e  unspeak- 
able ;  or  would,  either  by  tears  or  words,  or  a  mixture  of  both, 
have  furnished  him  with  some  other  information  to  that  effect, 
and  made  him  as  miserable   as  possible.     But  she  had  been 

16 


242 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


reared  up  in  a  sterner  school  than  the  minds  of  most  young 
girls  are  formed  in  ;  she  had  had  her  nature  strengthened  by 
the  hands  of  hard  endurance  and  necessity ;  had  come  out 
from  her  young  trials  constant,  self-denying,  earnest,  and  de- 
voted ;  had  acquired  in  her  maidenhood — whether  happily 
in  the  end,  for  herself  or  him,  is  foreign  to  our  present  pur- 
pose to  inquire — something  of  that  nobler  quality  of  gentle 
hearts  which  is  developed  often  by  the  sorrows  and  struggles 
of  matronly  years,  but  often  by  their  lessons  only.  Unspoiled, 
unpampered  in  her  joys  or  griefs  ;  with  frank  and  full,  and 
deep  affection  for  the  object  of  her  early  love,  she  saw  in  liirn 
one  who  for  her  sake  was  an  outcast  from  his  home  and  for 
tune,  and  she  had  no  more  idea  of  bestowing  that  love  upon 
him  in  other  than  cheerful  and  sustaining  words,  full  of  high 
hope  and  grateful  trustfulness,  than  she  had  of  being  un 
worthy  of  it,  in  her  lightest  thought  or  deed,  for  any  base 
temptation  that  the  world  could  offer. 

"  What  change  is  there  in  you^  Martin,"  she  replied ; 
"  for  that  concerns  me  nearest  .''  You  look  more  anxious  and 
more  thoughtful  than  you  used." 

"  Why  as  to  that,  my  love,"  said  Martin,  as  he  drew  her 
waist  within  his  arm,  first  looking  round  to  see  that  there  were 
no  observers  near,  and  beholding  Mr.  Tapley  more  intent 
than  ever  on  the  fog  ;  "  it  would  be  strange  if  I  did  not  ;  for 
my  life,  especially  of  late,  has  been  a  hard  one." 

"  I  know  it  must  have  been,"  she  answered.  "  When 
have  I  forgotten  to  think  of  it  and  you  ?  " 

"Not  often,  I  hope,"  said  Martin.  "Not  often,  I  am 
sure.  Not  often,  I  have  some  right  to  expect,  Mary  ;  for  I 
have  undergone  a  great  deal  of  vexation  and  privation,  and  I 
naturally  look  for  that  return,  you  know." 

"  A  very,  very  poor  return,"  she  answered  with  a  fainter 
smile.  "  But  you  have  it,  and  will  have  it  always.  You  have 
paid  a  dear  price  for  a  poor  heart,  Martin ;  but  it  is  at  least 
your  own,  and  a  true  one." 

"  Of  course  I  feel  quite  certain  of  that,"  said  Martin,  "  or 
I  shouldn't  have  put  myself  in  my  present  position.  And 
don't  say  a  poor  heart,  Mary,  for  I  say  a  rich  one.  Now,  I 
am  about  to  break  a  design  to  you  dearest,  which  will  startle 
you  at  first,  but  which  is  undertaken  for  your  sake.  I  am 
going,"  he  added  slowly,  looking  far  into  the  deep  wonder  of 
her  bright  dark  eyes,  "  abroad." 

"  Abroad,  Martin  !  " 


fl« 


MAIi  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  2  43 

"  Only  to  America.     See  now.     How  you  droop  directly  !  " 

"  If  1  do,  or,  I  hope  I  may  say,  if  I  did,"  she  answered, 
raising  her  head  after  a  short  silence,  and  looking  once  more 
into  his  face,  "  it  was  for  grief  to  think  of  what  you  are  re- 
solved to  undergo  for  me.  I  would  not  venture  to  dissuade 
you,  Martin  \  but  it  is  a  long,  long  distance  ;  there  is  a  wide 
ocean  to  be  crossed  ;  illness  and  want  are  sad  calamities  in 
any  place,  but  in  a  foreign  country  dreadful  to  endure.  Have 
you  thought  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  Thought  of  it  !  "  cried  Martin,  abating  in  his  fondness — 
and  he  was  ver}*  fond  of  her — hardly  an  iota  of  his  usual  im- 
petuosity. "What  am  I  to  do  ?  It's  very  well  to  say,  Have 
I  thought  of  it  ?  my  love  ;  but  you  should  ask  me  in  the  same 
breath,  have  I  thpught  of  starving  at  home  ;  have  I  thought 
of  doing  porter's  work  for  a  living ;  have  I  thought  of  hold- 
ing horses  in  the  streets  to  earn  my  roll  of  bread  from  day  to 
day  ?  Come,  come,"  he  added,  in  a  gentler  tone,  "  do  not 
hang  down  your  head,  my  dear,  for  I  need  the  encourage- 
ment that  your  sweet  face  alone  can  give  me.  Why,  that's 
well  !     Now  vou  are  brave  again." 

"  I  am  endeavoring  to  be,"  she  answered,  smiling  through 
her  tears. 

"  Endeavoring  to  be  anything  that's  good,  and  being  it,  is, 
with  you,  all  one.  Don't  I  know  that  of  old.''  "  cried  Martin, 
gayly.  "So!  That's  famous  !  Now  I  can  tell  you  all  my 
plans  as  cheerfully  as  if  you  were  my  little  wife  already, 
Mary." 

She  hung  more  closely  on  his  arm,  and  looking  upwards 
in  his  face,  bade  him  speak  on. 

"You  see,"  said  Martin,  playing  with  the  little  hand  upon 
his  wrist,  "  that  my  attempts  to  advance  myself  at  home  have 
been  bafifled  and  rendered  abortive.  I  will  not  say  by  whom, 
Mary,  for  that  would  give  pain  to  us  both.  ]]ut  so  it  is.  Ha\e 
you  heard  him  speak  of  late  of  any  relative  of  mine  or  his, 
called  Pecksniff }     Only  tell  me  what  I  ask  you,  no  more." 

"  I  have  heard,  to  my  surprise,  that  he  is  a  better  man 
than  was  supposed." 

"I  thought  so,"  interrupted  Martin. 

"And  that  it  is  likely  we  may  come  to  know  him,  if  not 
to  visit  and  reside  with  him  and — 1  think — his  daughters. 
He  has  daughters,  has  he,  love  ?  " 

"  A  pair  of  them,"  Martin  answered.  "  A  precious  pair  '. 
Gems  of  the  first  water !  " 


244  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Ah  !     You  are  jesting  !  " 

"  There  is  a  sort  of  jesting  which  is  very  much  in  earnest, 
and  includes  some  pretty  serious  disgust,"  said  Martin.  "  I 
jest  in  reference  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  (at  whose  house  I  have 
been  Uving  as  his  assistant,  and  at  whose  hands  I  have  re- 
ceived insult  and  injury),  in  that  vein.  Whatever  betides,  or 
however  closely  you  may  be  brought  into  communication  with 
his  family,  never  forget  that,  Mary ;  and  never  for  an  instant, 
whatever  appearances  may  seem  to  contradict  me,  lose  sight 
of  this  assvirance  :  Pecksniff  is  a  scoundrel." 
"  Indeed  !  " 

"  In  thought,  and  in  deed,  and  in  everything  else.  A 
scoundrel  from  the  topmost  hair  of  his  head,  to  the  nether- 
most atom  of  his  heel.  Of  his  daughters  I  will  only  say  that 
to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  they  are  dutiful  young 
ladies,  and  take  after  their  father  closely.  This  is  a  digres- 
sion from  the  main  point,  and  yet  it  brings  me  to  what  I  was 
going  to  say." 

He  stopped  to  look  into  her  eyes  again,  and  seeing,  in  a 
hasty  glance  over  his  shoulder,  that  there  was  no  one  near, 
and  that  Mark  was  still  intent  upon  the  fog,  not  only  looked 
at  her  lips  too,  but  kissed  them  into  the  bargain. 

"  Now,  I  am  going  to  America,  with  great  prospects  of 
doing  well,  and  of  returning  home  myself  very  soon  ;  it  may 
be  to  take  you  there  for  a  few  years,  but,  at  all  events,  to 
claim  you  for  my  wife  ;  which,  after  such  trials,  I  should  do 
with  no  fear  of  your  still  thinking  it  a  duty  to  cleave  to  him 
who  will  not  suffer  me  to  live  (for  this  is  true),  if  he  can  help 
it,  in  my  own  land.  How  long  I  may  be  absent  is,  of  course, 
uncertain  ;  but  it  shall  not  be  very  long.  Trust  me  for 
that." 

"  In  the  meantime,  dear  Martin — " 

"  That's   the   very  thing  I  am   coming  to.     In  the   mean- 
time you  shall  hear,  constantly,  of  all  my  goings-on.     Thus." 
He  paused  to  take  from  his  pocket  the  letter  he  had  writ- 
ten over-night,  and  then  resumed  : 

"  In  this  fellow's  employment,  and  living  in  this  fellow's 
house  (by  fellow,  I  mean  Mr.  Pecksniff,  of  course),  there  is 
a  certain  person  of  the  name  of  Pinch.  Don't  forget  ;  a  poor, 
strange,  simple  oddity,  Maiy  ;  but  thoroughly  honest  and  sin- 
cere, full  of  zeal,  and  with  a  cordial  regard  for  me.  Which 
I  mean  to  return  one  of  these  days,  by  setting  him  up  in  life 
in  some  way  or  other." 


MA  R  TIN  CHL  'ZZLE  WIT. 


245 


"  Your  old  kind  nature,  Martin  !  " 

"Oh  !  "  said  Martin,  "that's  not  worth  speaking  of,  my 
love.  He's  very  grateful  and  desirous  to  serve  me  ;  and  I 
am  more  than  repaid.  Now  one  night  I  told  this  Pinch  my 
history,  and  all  about  myself  and  you  ;  in  which  he  was  not 
a  little  mterested,  I  can  tell  you,  for  he  knows  you  !  Ay,  you 
may  looked  surprised,  and  the  longer  the  better,  for  it  becomes 
you,  but  you  have  heard  him  play  the  organ  in  the  church  of 
that  village  before  now  ;  and  he  has  seen  you  listening  to  his 
music  ;  and  has  caught  his  inspiration  from  you,  too  !  " 

"  Was  he  the  organist .?  "  cried  Mary.  "  I  thank  him  from 
my  heart !  " 

"Yes,  he  was,"  said  Martin,  "and  is,  and  gets  nothing 
for  it  either.  There  never  was  such  a  simple  fellow  !  Quite 
an  infant !     But  a  very  good  sort  of  creature,  I  assure  you." 

"I  am  sure  of  that,"  she  said,  with  great  earnestness. 
"He  must  be!  " 

"Oh,  yes,  no  doubt  at  all  about  it,"  rejoined  Martin,  in 
his  usual  careless  way.  "  He  is.  Well !  It  has  occurred  to 
me — but  stay.  If  I  read  you  what  I  have  written  and  intend 
sending  to  him  by  post  to-night,  it  will  explain  itself.  '  My 
dear  Tom  Pinch.'  That's  rather  familiar,  perhaps,"  said 
Martin,  suddenly  remembering  that  he  was  proud  when  they 
had  last  met,  "  but  I  call  him  my  dear  Tom  Pinch,  because 
he  likes  it,  and  it  pleases  him." 

"  Very  right,  and  ver\'  kind,"  said  Mar^^ 

"  Exactly  so  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  It's  as  well  to  be  kind 
whenever  one  can  ;  andj  as  I  said  before,  he  really  is  an  ex- 
cellent fellow.  '  My  dear  Tom  Pinch.  I  address  this  under 
cover  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  at  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  have  begged 
her  in  a  short  note  to  deliver  it  to  you  without  saying  any- 
thing about  it  elsewhere  ;  and  to  do  the  same  with  all  future 
letters  she  may  receive  from  me.  My  reason  for  so  doing 
will  be  at  once  apparent  to  you.'  I  don't  know  that  it  will 
be,  by  the  bye,"  said  Martin,  breaking  off,  "for  he's  slow  of 
comprehension,  poor  fellow  ;  but  he'll  find  it  out  in  time.  My 
reason  simply  is,  that  I  don't  want  my  letters  to  be  read  by 
other  people  ;  and  particularly  by  the  scoundrel  whom  he 
thinks  an  angel." 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff  again  ?  "  asked  Mar}\ 

"  The  same,"  said  Martin  ;  "  ' — will  be  at  once  apparent 
to  you.  I  have  completed  my  arrangements  for  going  to 
America  ;  and  you  will  be   surprised  to  hear  that  I  am  to  be 


246 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


accompanied  by  Mark  Tapley,  upon  whom  I  have  stumbled 
strangely  in  London,  and  who  insists  on  putting  himself  under 
my  protection  ; '  meaning,  my  love,"  said  Martin,  breaking  off 
again,  "  our  friend  in  the  rear,  of  course." 

She  was  delighted  to  hear  this,  and  bestowed  a  kind  glance 
upon  Mark,  v/hich  he  brought  his  eyes  down  from  the  fog  to 
encounter,  and  received  with  immense  satisfaction.  She  said 
in  his  hearing,  too,  that  he  was  a  good  soul  and  a  merry 
creature,  and  would  be  faithful,  she  was  certain  ;  commenda- 
tions which  Mr.  Tapley  inwardly  resolved  to  deser\'e,  from 
such  lips,  if  he  died  for  it. 

"  '  Now,  my  dear  Pinch,'  "  resumed  Martin,  proceeding 
with  his  letter ;  "  '  I  am  going  to  repose  great  trust  in  you, 
knowing  that  I  may  do  so  with  perfect  reliance  on  your  honor 
and  secrecy,  and  having  nobody  else  just  now  to  trust  in.'  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  would  say  that,  Martin." 

"Wouldn't  you  1  Well  !  I'll  take  that  out.  It's  perfectly 
true,  though." 

"  But  it  might  seem  ungracious,  perhaps." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  Pinch,"  said  Martin.  "  There's  no  oc- 
casion to  stand  on  any  ceremony  with  him.  However,  I'll  take 
it  out,  as  you  wish  it,  and  make  the  full  stop  at '  secrecy.'  Very 
well !     '  I  shall  not  only  ' — this  is  the  letter  again,  you  know." 

"  I  understand." 

" '  I  shall  not  only  inclose  my  letters  to  the  young  lady  of 
whom  I  have  told  you,  to  your  charge,  to  be  forwarded  as  she 
may  request ;  but  I  most  earnestly  commit  her,  the  young 
lady  herself,  to  your  care  and  regard,  in  the  event  of  your 
meeting  in  my  absence.  I  have  reason  to  think  that  the  prob- 
abilities of  your  encountering  each  other — perhaps  very  fre- 
quently— are  now  neither  remote  nor  few  ;  and  although  in 
our  position  you  can  do  very  little  to  lessen  the  uneasiness  of 
hers,  I  trust  to  you  implicitly  to  do  that  much,  and  so  deserve 
the  confidence  I  have  reposed  in  you.'  You  see,  my  dear 
Mary,"  said  Martin,  "  it  will  be  a  great  consolation  to  you  to 
have  anybody,  no  matter  how  simple,  with  whom  you  can 
speak  about  me  ;  and  the  very  first  time  you  talk  to  Pinch, 
you'll  feel  at  once,  that  there  is  no  more  occasion  for  any  em- 
barrassment or  hesitation  in  talking  to  him,  than  if  he  were 
an  old  woman." 

"  However  that  may  be,"  she  returned,  smiling,  "  he  is 
your  friend,  and  that  is  enough." 

"Oh,  yes,  he's  my  friend,"  said  Martin,  "certainly.     In 


\ 


A/A  A-  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


247 


fact,  I  have  told  him  in  so  many  words  that  we'll  always  take 
notice  of  him,  and  protect  him  ;  and  it's  a  good  trait  in  his 
character  that  he's  grateful,  very  grateful  indeed.  You'll  like 
him  of  all  things,  my  love,  I  know.  You'll  observe  ver}' much 
that's  comical  and  old-fashioned  about  Pinch,  but  you  needn't 
mind  laughing  at  him  \  for  he'll  not  care  about  it.  He'll 
rather  like  it  indeed  ! " 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  put  that  to  the  test,  Martin." 

"You  wont  if  you  can  help  it,  of  course,"  he  said,  "but  I 
think  you'll  find  him  a  little  too  much  for  your  gravity.  How- 
ever that's  neither  here  nor  there,  and  it  certainly  is  not  the 
letter  ;  which  ends  thus  :  '  Knowing  that  I  need  not  impress 
the  nature  and  extent  of  that  confidence  upon  you  at  any 
greater  length,  as  it  is  already  sufirciently  established  in  your 
mind,  I  will  only  say  in  bidding  you  farewell,  and  looking  for- 
ward to  our  next  meeting,  that  I  shall  charge  myself  from  this 
time,  through  all  changes  for  the  better,  with  your  advance- 
ment and  happiness,  as  if  they  were  my  own.  You  may  rely 
upon  that.  And  always  believe  nie,  my  dear  Tom  Pinch, 
faithfully  your  friend,  Martin  Chuzzlewit.  P.  S.  I  enclose 
the  amount  which  you  so  kindly  ' — Oh,"  said  Martin,  check- 
ing himself,  and  folding  up  the  letter,   "  that's  nothing  !  " 

At  this  crisis  Mark  Tapley  interposed,  with  an  apology  for 
remarking  that  the  clock  at  the  Horse  Guards  was  striking. 

"  Which  I  shouldn't  have  said  nothing  about,  sir,"  added 
]\Iark,  "  if  the  young  lady  hadn't  begged  me  to  be  particular 
in  mentioning  it." 

"  I  did,"  said  Mar}^  "  Thank  you.  You  are  quite  right. 
In  another  minute  I  shall  be  ready  to  return,  ^^'e  have  time 
for  a  very  few  words  more,  dear  Martin,  and  althougli  1  had 
much  to  say,  it  must  remain  unsaid  until  the  happy  time  of 
our  next  meeting.  Heaven  send  it  may  come  speedily  and 
prosperously  !     I]ut  I  have  no  fear  of  that." 

"Fear!"  cried  Martin.  "  Why,  who  has?  What  are  a 
few  months?  What  is  a  whole  year?  When  I  come  gayly 
back,  with  a  road  through  life  hewn  out  before  me,  then  in- 
deed, looking  back  upon  this  parting,  it  may  seem  a  dismal 
one.  But  now  !  I  swear  I  wouldn't  have  it  happen  under 
more  favorable  auspices,  if  I  could  ;  for  then  I  should  be  less 
inclined  to  go,  and  less  impressed  with  the  necessity." 
"  Yes,  yes.  I  feel  that  too.  When  do  you  go  ?  " 
*'  To-night.  We  leave  for  Liverpool  to-night,  A  vessel 
sails  from  that  port,  as  I  hear,  in  three  days.     In  a  month,  or 


248  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

less,  we  shall  be  there.  Why  what's  a  month !  How  many 
months  have  flown  by,  since  our  last  parting !  " 

"  Long  to  look  back  upon,"  said  Mary,  echoing  his  cheer- 
ful tone,  "  but  nothing  in  their  course  !  " 

"  Nothing  at  all !  "  cried  Martin.  "  I  shall  have  change 
of  scene  and  change  of  place  ;  change  of  people,  change  of 
manners,  change  of  cares  and  hopes  !  Time  will  wear  wings 
indeed  !  I  can  bear  anything,  so  that  I  have  swift  action, 
Mary." 

Was  he  thinking  solely  of  her  care  for  him,  when  he  took 
so  little  heed  of  her  share  in  the  separation  ;  of  her  quiet 
monotonous  endurance,  and  her  slow  anxiety  from  day  to  day  ? 
Was  there  nothing  jarring  and  discordant  even  in  his  tone  of 
courage,  with  this  one  note  "  self "  for  ever  audible,  however 
high  the  strain  1  Not  in  her  ears.  It  had  been  better  other- 
wise, perhaps,  but  so  it  was.  She  heard  the  same  bold  spirit 
which  had  flung  away  as  dross  all  gain  and  profit  for  her  sake, 
making  light  of  peril  and  privation  that  she  might  be  calm 
and  happy  ;  and  she  heard  no  more.  That  heart  where  self 
has  found  no  place  and  raised  no  throne,  is  slow  to  recognize 
its  ugly  presence  when  it  looks  upon  it.  As  one  possessed  of 
an  evil  spirit,  was  held  in  old  time  to  be  alone  conscious  of  the 
lurking  demon  in  the  breasts  of  other  men,  so  kindred  vices 
know  each  other  in  their  hiding-places  every  day,  when  Virtue 
is  incredulous  and  blind. 

"  The  quarter  's  gone  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  voice  of 
admonition. 

"  I  shall  be  ready  to  return  immediately,"  she  said.  "  One 
thing,  dear  Martin,  I  am  bound  to  tell  you.  You  entreated 
me  a  few  minutes  since  only  to  answer  what  you  asked  me  in 
reference  to  one  theme,  but  you  should  and  must  know  (other- 
wise I  could  not  be  at  ease),  that  since  that  separation  of 
which  I  was  the  unhappy  occasion,  he  has  never  once  uttered 
your  name  ;  has  never  coupled  it,  or  any  faint  allusion  to  it, 
with  passion  or  reproach  ;  and  has  never  abated  in  his  kind- 
ness to  me." 

"  I  thank  him  for  that  last  act,"  said  Martin,  "  and  for 
nothing  else.  Though  on  consideration  I  may  thank  him  for 
his  other  forbearance  also,  inasmuch  as  I  neither  expect  nor 
desire  that  he  will  mention  mv  name  again.  He  mav  once, 
perhaps — to  couple  it  with  reproach — in  his  will.  Let  him,  if 
he  please  !  By  the  time  it  reaches  me,  he  will  be  in  his  grave  ; 
a  satire  on  his  own  anger,  God  help  him  !  " 


M : 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


249 


"  Martin  !  If  3'ou  would  but  sometimes,  in  some  quiet 
hour  ;  beside  the  winter  fire  ;  in  the  summer  air  ;  when  you 
hear  gentle  music,  or  think  of  Death,  or  Home,  or  Childhood  ; 
if  vou  would  at  such  a  season  resolve  to  think,  but  once  a 
month,  or  even  once  a  year,  of  him,  or  any  one  who  ever 
wronged  you,  you  would  forgive  him  in  your  heart,  I  know !  " 

"  If  I  believed  that  to  be  true,  Mary,"  he  replied,  "  I  would 
resolve  at  no  such  time  to  bear  him  in  mv  mind,  wishing  to 
spare  myself  the  shame  of  such  a  weakness.  I  was  not  born 
to  be  the  toy  and  puppet  of  any  man,  far  less  his  ;  to  whose 
pleasure  and  caprice,  in  return  for  any  good  he  did  me,  my 
whole  youth  was  sacrificed.  It  became  between  us  two  a  fair 
exchange,  a  barter,  and  no  more  ;  and  there  is  no  such  bal- 
ance against  me  that  I  need  throw  in  a  mawkish  forgiveness 
to  poise  the  scale.  He  has  forbidden  all  mention  of  me  to 
you,  I  know,"  he  added  hastily.     "  Come  !     Has  he  not  ?  " 

"  That  was  long  ago,"  she  returned  ;  "  immediately  after 
your  parting  ;  before  you  had  left  the  house.  He  has  never 
done  so  since." 

"  He  has  never  done  so  since,  because  he  has  seen  no 
occasion,"  said  Martin  ;  "  but  that  is  of  little  consequence, 
one  way  or  other.  Let  all  allusion  to  him  between  you  and 
me  be  interdicted  from  this  time  forth.  And  therefore,  love  " — • 
he  drew  her  quickly  to  him,  for  the  time  of  parting  had  now 
come — "  in  the  first  letter  that  you  write  to  me  through  the 
Post-office,  addressed  to  New  York — and  in  all  the  others  that 
you  send  through  Pinch — remember  he  has  no  existence,  but 
has  become  to  us  as  one  who  is  dead.  Now,  God  bless  you  ! 
This  is  a  strange  place  for  such  a  meeting  and  such  a  parting  ; 
but  our  next  meeting  shall  be  in  a  better,  and  our  next  and 
last  parting  in  a  worse." 

"  One  other  question,  Martin,  1  must  ask.  Have  you  pro- 
vided money  for  this  journey  .?  " 

"  Have  I  ?  "  cried  Martin  ;  it  might  have  been  in  his  pride  ; 
it  might  have  been  in  his  desire  to  set  her  mind  at  ease  : 
"  Have  I  provided  money  ?  W'hv,  there's  a  question  for  an 
emigrant's  wife  !  How  could  I  move  on  land  or  sea  without 
it,  love  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  enough." 

"  Enough  !  More  than  enough.  Twenty  times  more  than 
enough.  A  pocketfull.  Mark  and  I,  for  all  essential  ends, 
are  quite  as  rich  as  if  we  had  the  purse  of  Fortunatus  in  our 
baggage." 


250 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  The  half-hour  's  a-going  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley. 
"  Good-by  a  hundred  times  !  "   cried  Mary,  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

But  how  cold  the  comfort  in  Good-bye  !  Mark  Tapley 
knew  it  perfectly.  Perhaps  he  knew  it  from  his  reading,  per- 
haps from  his  experience,  perhaps  from  intuition.  It  is  im- 
possible to  say ;  but  however  he  knew  it,  his  knowledge  in- 
stinctively suggested  to  him  the  wisest  course  of  proceeding 
than  any  man  could  have  adopted  under  the  circumstances. 
He  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit  of  sneezing,  and  was  obliged 
to  turn  his  head  another  way.  In  doing  which,  he,  in  a  man- 
ner, fenced  and  screened  the  lovers  into  a  corner  by  them- 
selves. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  but  Mark  had  an  undefined  sen- 
sation that  it  was  a  satisfactory  one  in  its  way.  Then  Mary, 
with  her  veil  lowered,  passed  him  with  a  quick  step,  and 
beckoned  him  to  follow.  She  stopped  once  more  before  they 
lost  that  corner,  looked  back,  and  waved  her  hand  to  Martin. 
He  made  a  start  towards  them  at  the  moment  as  if  he  had 
some  other  farewell  words  to  say  ;  but  she  only  hurried  off 
the  faster,  and  Mr.  Tapley  followed  as  in  duty  bound. 

When  he  rejoined  Martin  again  in  his  own  chamber,  he 
found  that  gentleman  seated  moodily  before  the  dusty  grate, 
with  his  two  feet  on  the  fender,  his  two  elbows  on  his  knees, 
and  his  chin  supported,  in  a  not  very  ornamental  manner,  on 
the  palms  of  his  hands. 

"  Well,  Mark  ?  " 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Mark,  taking  a  long  breath,  "I  see  the 
young  lady  safe  home,  and  I  feel  pretty  comfortable  after  it. 
She  sent  a  lot  of  kind  words,  sir,  and  this,'"  handing  him  a 
ring,  "for  a  parting  keepsake." 

"  Diamonds  !  "  said  Martin,  kissing  it — let  us  do  him 
justice,  it  was  for  her  sake  ;  not  for  theirs — and  putting  it  on 
his  little  finger.  "  Splendid  diamonds  !  My  grandfather  is 
a  singular  character,  Mark.     He  must  have  given  her  this, 


now." 


Mark  Tapley  knew  as  well  that  she  had  bought  it,  to  the 
end  that  that  unconscious  speaker  might  carry  some  article  of 
sterling  value  with  him  in  his  necessity ;  as  he  knew  that  it 
was  day,  and  not  night.  Though  he  had  no  more  acquaint- 
ance of  his  own  knowledge  with  the  histor}^  of  the  glittering 
trinket  on  Martin's  outspread  finger,  than  Martin  himself 
had,  he  was  as  certain  that  in  its  purchase  she  had  expended 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


251 


her  whole  stock  of  hoarded  money,  as  if  he  had  seen  it  paid 
down  coin  by  coin.  Her  lover's  strange  obtuseness  in  rela- 
tion to  this  little  incident,  promptly  suggested  to  Mark's  mind 
its  real  cause  and  root ;  and  from  that  moment  he  had  a  clear 
and  perfect  insight  into  the  one  absorbing  principle  of  Martin's 
character. 

"  She  is  worthy  of  the  sacrifices  I  have  made,"  said  Martin, 
folding  his  arms,  and  looking  at  the  ashes  in  the  stove,  as  if 
in  resumption  of  some  former  thoughts.  "  Well  worthy  of 
them.  No  riches  " — here  he  stroked  his  chin,  and  mused— 
"could  have  compensated  for  the  loss  of  such  a  nature.  Not 
to  mention  that  in  gaining  her  affection,  I  have  followed  the 
bent  of  my  own  wishes,  and  baulked  the  selfish  schemes  of 
others  who  had^no  right  to  form  them.  She  is  quite  worthy, 
more  than  worthy,  of  the  sacrifices  I  have  made.  Yes,  she 
is.     No  doubt  of  it." 

These  ruminations  might  or  might  not  have  reached  Mark 
Tapley  ;  for  though  they  were  by  no  means  addressed  to  him, 
yet  they  were  softly  uttered.  In  any  case,  he  stood  there, 
watching  Martin,  with  an  indescribable  and  most  involved 
expression  on  his  visage,  until  that  young  man  roused  himself 
and  looked  towards  him ;  when  he  turned  away,  as  being 
suddenly  intent  upon  certain  preparations  for  the  journey, 
and,  without  giving  vent  to  any  articulate  sound,  smiled  with 
surpassing  ghastliness,  and  seemed  by  a  twist  of  his  features 
and  a  motion  of  his  lips,  to  release  himself  of  this  word : 

"Jolly!" 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   BURDEN    WHEREOF    IS,    HAIL,    COLUMBIA  ! 

A  DARK  and  dreary  night ;  people  nestling  in  their  beds 
or  circling  late  about  the  fire  ;  Want,  colder  than  Charity, 
shivering  at  the  street  corners  ;  church-towers  humming  with 
the  faint  vibration  of  their  own  tongues,  but  newly  resting 
from  the  ghostly  preachment  '  One  !  The  earth  covered  with 
a  sable  pall  as  for  the  burial  of  yesterday  ;  the  clumps  of 
dark  trees,  its  giant  plumes  of  funeral  feathers,  waving  sadly 


252  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

to  and  fro  ;  all  hushed,  all  noiseless,  and  in  deep  repose,  sav^e 
the  swift  clouds  that  skim  across  the  moon,  and  the  cautious 
wind,  as,  creeping  after  them  upon  the  ground,  it  stops  to 
listen,  and  goes  rustling  on,  and  stops  again,  and  follows,  like 
a  savage  on  the  trail. 

Whither  go  the  clouds  and  wind,  so  eagerly  ?  If,  like 
guilty  spirits,  they  repair  to  some  dread  conference  with 
powers  like  themselves,  in  what  wild  regions  do  the  elements 
hold  council,  or  where  unbend  in  terrible  disport  ? 

Here  !  Free  from  that  cramped  prison  called  the  earth, 
and  out  upon  the  waste  of  waters.  Here,  roaring,  raging, 
shrieking,  howling,  all  night  long.  Hither  come  the  sounding 
voices  from  the  caverns  on  the  coast  of  that  small  island, 
sleeping,  a  thousand  miles  away,  so  quietly  in  the  midst  of 
angry  waves  ;  and  hither,  to  meet  them,  rush  the  blasts  from 
unknown  desert  places  of  the  world.  Here,  in  the  fury  of 
their  unchecked  liberty,  they  storm  and  buffet  with  each 
other,  until  the  sea,  lashed  into  passion  like  their  own,  leaps 
up,  in  ravings  mightier  than  theirs,  and  the  whole  scene  is 
madness. 

On,  on,  on,  over  the  countless  miles  of  angry  space  roll 
the  long  heaving  billows.  Mountains  and  caves  are  here, 
and. yet  are  not;  for  what  is  now  the  one,  is  now  the  other; 
then  all  is  but  a  boiling  heap  of  rushing  water.  Pursuit,  and 
flight,  and  mad  return  of  wave  on  wave,  and  savage  struggle, 
ending  in  a  spouting-up  of  foam  that  whitens  the  black  night ; 
incessant  change  of  place,  and  form,  and  hue  ;  constancy  in 
nothing,  but  eternal  strife  ;  on,  on,  on,  they  roll,  and  darker 
grows  the  night,  and  louder  howls  the  wind,  and  more  clamor- 
ous and  fierce  become  the  million  voices  in  the  sea,  when  the 
wild  cry  goes  forth  upon  the  storm  "  A  ship  !  " 

Onward  she  comes,  in  gallant  combat  with  the  elements, 
her  tall  masts  trembling,  and  her  timbers  starting  on  the 
strain  ;  onw'ard  she  comes,  now  high  upon  the  curling  billows, 
now  low  down  in  the  hollows  of  the  sea,  as  hiding  for  the 
moment  from  its  furv  ;  and  every  storm-voice  in  the  air  and 
water,  cries  more  loudly  yet,  "  A  ship  !  " 

Still  she  comes  striving  on  :  and  at  her  boldness  and  the^ 
spreading  cry,  the  angry  wa\es  rise  up  above  each  other's 
hoary  heads  to  look ;  and  round  about  the  vessel,  far  as  the 
mariners  on  the  decks  can  pierce  into  the  gloom,  they  press 
upon  her,  forcing  each  other  down,  and  starting  up,  and 
rushing  forward  from  afar,  in  dreadful  curiosity.     High  over 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  253 

her  they  break  ;  and  round  her  surge  and  roar  ;  and  giving 
place  to  others,  moaningly  depart,  and  dash  themselves  to 
fragments  in  their  baffled  anger.  Still  she  comes  onward 
bravely.  And  though  the  eager  multitude  crowd  thick  and 
fast  upon  her  all  the  night,  and  dawn  of  day  discovers  the 
untiring  train  yet  bearing  down  upon  the  ship  in  an  eternity 
of  troubled  water,  onward  she  comes,  with  dim  lights  burning 
in  her  hull,  and  people  there,  asleep :  as  if  no  deadly  element 
were  peering  in  at  every  seam  and  chink,  and  no  drowned 
seaman's  grave,  with  but  a  plank  to  cover  it,  were  yawning  in 
the  unfathomable  depths  below. 

Among  these  sleeping  voyagers  were  Martin  and  ^lark 
Tapley,  who,  rocked  into  a  heavy  drowsiness  by  the  unac- 
customed motio;i,  were  as  insensible  to  the  foul  air  in  which 
they  lay,  as  to  the  uproar  without.  It  was  broad  day,  when 
the  latter   awoke  with  a   dim   idea   that   he  was  dreaming  of 

■I  • 

havmg  gone  to  sleep  in  a  four-post  bedstead  which  had  turned 
bottom  upwards  in  the  course  of  the  night.  There  was  more 
reason  in  this  too,  than  in  the  roasting  of  eggs  ;  for  the  first 
objects  Mr.  Tapley  recognized  when  he  opened  his  eves  were 
his  own  heels — looking  down  to  him,  as  he  afterwards  ob- 
served, from  a  nearly  perpendicular  elevation. 

"  Well  !  "  said  Mark,  getting  himself  into  a  sitting  posture, 
after  various  ineffectual  struggles  with  the  rolling  of  the 
ship.  "  This  is  the  first  time  as  ever  I  stood  on  my  head  all 
night." 

"  You  shouldn't  go  to  sleep  upon  the  ground  with  your 
head  to  leeward  then,"  growled  a  man  in  one  of  the  berths. 

"With  my  head  to  where 'i  "  asked  Mark. 

The  man  repeated  his  previous  sentiment. 

"  No,  I  won't  another  time,"  said  Mark,  "  when  I  know 
whereabouts  on  the  map  that  country  is.  In  the  meanwhile, 
I  can  give  you  a  better  piece  of  advice.  Don't  you  nor  any 
other  friend  of  mine  never  go  to  sleep  with  his  head  in  a  ship, 
any  more." 

The  man  gave  a  grunt  of  discontented  acquiescence, 
turned  over  in  his  berth,  and  drew  his  blanket  o\-er  his  head. 

" — For,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  pursuing  the  theme  by  way  of 
soliloquy,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice  ;  "  the  sea  is  as  nonsensical 
a  thing  as  any  going.  It, never  knows  what  to  do  with  itself. 
It  hasn't  got  no  employment  for  its  mind,  and  is  always  in  a 
state  of  vacancy.  Like  them  Polar  bears  in  the  wild-beast- 
shows  as  is  constantly  a   nodding  their  heads  from  side  to 


254 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


side,  it  never  can  be  quiet.  Which  is  entirely  owing  to  its 
uncommon  stupidity." 

"  Is  that  you,  Mark  ? "  asked  a  faint  voice  from  another 
berth. 

"  It's  as  much  of  me  as  is  left,  sir,  after  a  fortnight  of  this 
work,"  Mr.  Tapley  replied.  "What  with  leading  the  life  of  a 
fly,  ever  since  I've  been  aboard — for  I've  been  perpetually 
holding-on  to  something  or  other,  in  a  upside-down  position 
— what  with  that,  sir,  and  putting  a  very  little  into  myself, 
and  taking  a  good  deal  out  of  yourself,  there  ain't  too  much 
of  me  to  swear  by.  How  do  yoii  find  yourself  this  morning, 
sir  ?  " 

"  Very  miserable,"  said  Martin,  with  a  peevish  groan. 
"  Ugh  !     This  is  wretched,  indeed  !  " 

"  Creditable,"  muttered  Mark,  pressing  one  hand  upon  his 
aching  head  and  looking  round  him  with  a  rueful  grin.  "  That's 
the  great  comfort.  It />  creditable  to  keep  up  one's  spirits 
here.     Virtue's  its  own  reward.     So's  jollity." 

Mark  was  so  far  right,  that  unquestionably  any  man  who 
retained  his  cheerfulness  among  the  steerage  accomodations 
of  that  noble  and  fast-sailing-line-of-packet-ship,  "  The  Screw," 
was  solely  indebted  to  his  own  resources,  and  shipped  his 
good  humor,  like  his  provisions,  without  any  contribution  or 
assistance  from  the  owners.  A  dark,  low,  stifling  cabin,  sur- 
rounded by  berths  all  filled  to  everflowing  with  men,  women, 
and  children,  in  various  stages  of  sickness  and  misery,  is  not 
the  liveliest  place  of  assembly  at  any  time  ;  but  when  it  is  so 
crowded  (as  the  steerage  cabin  of  "  The  Screw  "  was  every 
passage  out),  that  mattresses  and  beds  are  heaped  upon  the 
floor,  to  the  extinction  of  everything  like  comfort,  cleanliness, 
and  decency,  it  is  liable  to  operate  not  only  as  a  pretty  strong 
barrier  against  amiability  of  temper,  but  as  a  positive  en- 
courager  of  selfish  and  rough  humors.  Mark  felt  this,  as  he 
sat  looking  about  him  ;  and  his  spirits  rose  proportionately. 

There  were  English  people,  Irish  people,  Welsh  people, 
and  Scotch  people  there ;  all  with  their  little  store  of  coarse 
food  and  shabby  clothes  ;  and  nearly  all,  with  their  families 
of  children.  There  were  children  of  all  ages  ;  from  the  baby 
at  the  breast,  to  the  slattern-girl  who  was  as  much  a  grown 
woman  as  her  mother.  Every  kind  of  domestic  suffering  that 
is  bred  in  poverty,  illness,  banishment,  sorrow,  and  long  travel 
in  bad  weather,  was  crammed  into  the  little  space  ;  and  yet 
was  there  infinitely  less  of  complaint  and  querulousncss,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


255 


infinitely  more  of  mutual  assistance  and  general  kindness  to 
be  found  in  that  unwholesome  ark,  than  in  many  brilliant  ball- 
rooms. 

Mark  looked  about  him  wistfully,  and  his  face  brightened 
as  he  looked.  Here  an  old  grandmother  was  crooning  over  a 
sick  child,  and  rocking  it  to  and  fro,  in  arms  hardly  more 
wasted  than  its  own  young  limbs  ;  here  a  poor  woman  with 
an  infant  in  her  lap,  mended  another  little  creature's  clothes, 
and  quieted  another  who  was  creeping  up  about  her  froiu  their 
scanty  bed  upon  the  floor.  Here  were  old  men  awkwardly 
engaged  in  little  household  offices,  wherein  they  would  have 
been  ridiculous  but  for  their  good-will  and  kind  purpose ;  and 
here  were  swarthy  fellows — giants  in  their  way — doing  such 
little  acts  of  tenderness  for  those  about  them,  as  mi<jht  have 
belonged  to  gentlest-hearted  dwarfs.  The  very  idiot  in  the 
corner  who  sat  mowing  there,  all  da}-,  had  his  faculty  of  imita- 
tion roused  by  what  he  saw  about  him  ;  and  snapped  his  fin- 
gers, to  amuse  a  cr}'ing  child. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Mark,  nodding  to  a  woman  who  was 
dressing  her  three  children  at  no  great  distance  from  him — 
and  the  grin  upon  his  face  had  by  this  time  spread  from  ear 
to  ear — "  hand  over  one  of  them  young  uns  according  to 
custom." 

"  I  wish  you'd  get  breakfast,  Mark,  instead  of  worrj-ing 
with  people  who  don't  belong  to  you,"  observed  Martin,  pet- 
ulantly. 

"  All  right,"  said  Mark.  "  SJuW  do  that.  It's  a  fair  di- 
vision of  labor,  sir.  I  wash  her  boys,  and  she  makes  our  tea. 
I  never  rt'/^A/ make  tea,  but  anyone  can  wash 'a  boy." 

The  woman,  who  was  delicate  and  ill,  felt  and  understood 
his  kindness,  as  well  she  might,  for  she  had  been  covered 
every  night  with  his  great-coat,  while  he  had  had  for  his  own 
bed  the  bare  boards  and  a  rug.  But,  Martin,  who  seldom  got 
up  or  looked  about  him,  was  quite  incensed  by  the  folly  of 
this  speech,  and  expressed  his  dissatisfaction,  by  an  impatient 
groan. 

"  So  it  is,  certainly,"  said  Mark,  brushing  the  child's  hair 
as  coolly  as  if  he  had  been  born  and  bred  a  barber. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  now  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"What  you  said,"  replied  Mark;  "or  what  you  meant, 
when  you  gave  that  there  dismal  vent  to  your  feelings.  1 
quite  go  along  with  it,  sir.     It  is  very  hard  upon  her." 

"  What  is  ?  " 


256  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  Making  the  voyage  by  herself  along  with  these  young 
impediments  here,  and  going  such  a  way  at  such  a  time  of 
the  year  to  join  her  husband.  If  you  don't  want  to  be  driven 
mad  with  yellow  soap  in  your  eye  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Tapley 
to  the  second  urchin,  who  was  by  this  time  under  his  hands 
at  the  basin,  "you'd  better  shut  it." 

"Where  does  she  join  her  husband  ?  "  asked  Martin, 
yawning. 

"  Why,  I'm  ver}^  much  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  that  she  don't  know.  I  hope  she  mayn't  miss  him. 
But  she  sent  her  last  letter  by  hand,  and  it  don't  seem  to  have 
been  very  clearly  understood  between  'em  without  it,  and  if 
she  don't  see  him  a  waving  his  pocket-handkerchief  on  the 
shore,  like  a  pictur  out  of  a  song-book,  my  opinion  is,  she'll 
break  her  heart." 

''  Why,  how,  in  Folly's  name,  does  the  woman  come  to  be 
on  board  ship  on  such  a  wild-goose  venture  !  "  cried  Martin. 

Mr.  Tapley  glanced  at  him  for  a  moment  as  he  lay  pros- 
trate in  his  berth,  and  then  said,  ver}'^  quietly  : 

"  Ah  !  How,  indeed  !  I  can't  think  !  He's  been  away 
from  her,  for  two  year  :  she's  been  very  poor  and  lonely  in 
her  own  country ;  and  has  always  been  a  looking  forward  to 
meeting  him.  It's  very  strange  she  should  be  here.  Quite 
amazing  !  A  little  mad,  perhaps  !  There  can't  be  no  other 
way  of  accounting  for  it." 

Martin  was  too  far  gone  in  the  lassitude  of  sea-sickness  to 
make  any  reply  to  these  words,  or  even  to  attend  to  them  as 
they  were  spoken.  And  the  subject  of  their  discourse  return- 
ing at  this  crisis  with  some  hot  tea,  effectually  put  a  stop  to 
any  resumption  of  the  theme  by  Mr.  Tapley  ;  who,  when  the 
meal  was  over,  and  he  had  adjusted  Martin's  bed,  went  up 
on  deck  to  wash  the  breakfast  service,  which  consisted  of  two 
half-pint  tin  mugs,  and  a  shaving-pot  of  the  same  metal. 

It  is  due  to  Mark  Tapley  to  state,  that  he  suffered  at  least 
as  much  from  sea-sickness  as  any  man,  woman,  or  child,  on 
board  ;  and  that  he  had  a  peculiar  faculty  of  knocking  himself 
about  on  the  smallest  provocation,  and  losing  his  legs  at  every 
lurch  of  the  ship.  But  resolved,  m  his  usual  phrase,  to  "  come 
out  strong  "  under  disadvantageous  circumstances,  he  was  the 
life  and  soul  of  the  steerage,  and  made  no  more  of  stopping 
in  the  middle  of  a  facetious  conversation  to  go  away  and  be 
excessively  ill  by  himself,  and  afterwards  come  back  in  the 
very  best  and  gayest  of  tempers  to  resume  it,  than  if  such  a 
course  of  proceeding  had  been  the  commonest  in  the  world. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


257 


It  cannot  be  said  that  as  his  ilhiess  wore  off,  his  cheerful- 
ness and  good-nature  increased,  because  they  would  hardly 
admit  of  augmentation ;  but  his  usefulness  among  the  weaker 
members  of  the  party  was  much  enlarged  ;  and  at  all  times 
and  seasons  there  he  was  exerting  it.  If  a  gleam  of  sun 
shone  out  of  the  dark  sky  down  Mark  tumbled  into  the  cabin, 
and  presently  up  he  came  again  with  a  woman  in  his  arms, 
or  half-a-dozen  children,  or  a  man,  or  a  bed,  or  a  saucepan, 
or  a  basket,  or  something  animate  or  inanimate,  that  he 
thought  would  be  the  better  for  the  air.  If  an  hour  or  two 
of  fine  weather  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  tempted  those  who 
seldom  or  never  came  on  deck  at  other  times,  to  crawl  into  the 
long-boat,  or  lie  down  upon  the  spare  spars,  and  try  to  eat, 
there,  in  the  centre  of  the  group,  was  Mr.  Tapley,  handing 
about  salt  beef  and  biscuit,  or  dispensing  tastes  of  grog,  or 
cutting  up  the  children's  provisions  with  his  pocket-knife,  for 
their  greater  ease  and  comfort,  or  reading  aloud  from  a  vener- 
able newspaper,  or  singing  some  roaring  old  song  to  a  select 
party,  or  writing  the  beginnings  of  letters  to  their  friends  at 
home  for  people  who  couldn't  write,  or  cracking  jokes  with 
the  crew,  or  nearly  getting  blown  over  the  side,  or  emerging, 
half-drowned,  from  a  shower  of  spray,  or  lending  a  hand  some- 
where or  other :  but  always  doing  something  for  the  general 
entertainment.  At  night,  when  the  cooking-fire  was  lighted 
on  the  deck,  and  the  driving  sparks  that  fiew  among  the  rig- 
ging, and  the  cloud  of  sails,  seemed  to  menace  the  ship  with 
certain  annihilation  by  fire,  in  case  the  elements  of  air  and 
water  failed  to  compass  her  destruction  ;  there,  again,  was 
Mr.  Tapley,  with  his  coat  off  and  his  shirt-sleeves  turned  \x\) 
to  his  elbows,  doing  all  kinds  of  culinary  offices  ;  compound- 
ing the  strangest  dishes  ;  recognized  by  every  one  as  an  estab- 
lished authority  ;  and  helping  all  parties  to  achieve  something, 
which,  left  to  themselves,  they  never  could  have  done,  and 
never  would  have  dreamed  of.  In  short,  there  never  was  a 
more  popular  character  than  Mark  Tapley  became,  on  board 
that  noble  and  fast-sailing-linc-of-packet  ship,  the  Screw  ; 
and  he  attained  at  last  to  such  a  pitch  of  universal  admira- 
tion, that  he  began  to  have  grave  doubts  within  himself 
whether  a  man  might  reasonably  claim  any  credit  for  being 
jolly  under  such  ex<;iting  circumstances. 

"  If  this  was  going  to  last,"  said  Mr.  Tapley  "  there'd  be 
no  great  difference  as  I  can  perceive,  between  the  Screw  and 
the  Dragon.     I  never  am  to  get  credit,  I  think.     I   begin  to 

17 


258 


MARTIN  CHCZZLEWIT. 


be  afraid  that  the  Fates  is  determined  to  make  the  world  easy 
to  me." 

"Well,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  near  whose  berth  he  had 
ruminated  to  this  effect.     "  When  will  this  be  over  ?  " 

"  Another  week,  they  say,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  will  most 
likely  bring  us  into  port.  The  ship's  a  going  along  at  present, 
as  sensible  as  a  ship  can,  sir  ;  though  I  don't  mean  to  say  as 
that's  any  very  high  praise." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is,  indeed,"  groaned  Martin. 

"  You'd  feel  all  the  better  for  it,  sir,  if  you  was  to  turn 
out,"  observed  Mark. 

"  And  be  seen  by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  the  after- 
deck,"  returned  Martin,  with  a  scornful  emphasis  upon  the 
words,  "  mingling  with  the  beggarly  crowd  that  are  stowed 
away  in  this  vile  hole.  I  should  be  greatly  the  bet'er  for  that, 
no  doubt ! " 

"I'm  thankful  that  I  can't  say  from  my  own  experience 
what  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman  may  be,"  said  Mark,  "  but  I 
should  have  thought,  sir,  as  a  gentleman  would  feel  a  deal 
more  uncomfortable  down  here,  than  up  in  the  fresh  air, 
especially  when  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  after-cabin 
know  just  as  much  about  him,  as  he  does  about  them,  and  are 
likely  to  trouble  their  heads  about  him  in  the  same  proportion. 
I  should  have  thought  that,  certainl}^" 

"  I  tell  you,  then,"  rejoined  Martin,  "you  would  have 
thought  wrong,  and  do  think  wrong." 

"  Very  likely,  sir,"  said  Mark,  with  imperturbable  good 
temper.     "  I  often  do." 

"  As  to  Ivincr  here,"  cried  Martin,  raisins:  himself  on  his 
elbow,  and  looking  angrily  at  his  follower.  "  Do  you  suppose 
it's  a  pleasure  to  lie  here  ?  " 

"All  the  madhouses  in  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Tapley, 
"couldn't  produce  such  a  maniac  as  the  man  must  be  who 
could  think  that." 

"  llien  why  are  you  for  ever  goading  and  urging  me  to  get 
up  ?  "  asked  Martin.  "  I  lie  here  because  I  don't  wish  to  be 
recognized,  in  the  better  days  to  which  I  aspire,  by  any  purse- 
proud  citizen,  as  the  man  who  came  over  with  him  among  the 
steerage  passengers.  I  lie  here,  because  I  wish  to  conceal 
my  circumstances  and  myself,  and  not  to  arrive  in  a  new 
world  badged  and  ticketed  as  an  utterly  poverty-stricken  man. 
If  I  could  have  afforded  a  passage  in  the  after-cabin,  I  should 
have  held  up  my  head  with  the  rest.  As  I  couldn't,  I  hide  it. 
Do  you  understand  that?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  259 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  didn't  know  you 
took  it  so  mucli  to  lieart  as  this  comes  to." 

''  Of  course  you  didn't  know,"  returned  liis  master.  "  How 
should  you  know,  unless  I  told  you .'  It's  no  trial  to  you^ 
Mark,  to  make  yourself  comfortable  and  to  bustle  about.  It's 
as  natural  for  you  to  do  so  under  the  circumstances  as  it  is 
for  me  not  to  do  so.  Why,  you  don't  suppose  there  is  a 
living  creature  in  this  ship  who  can  by  possibility  have  half 
so  much  to  undergo  on  board  of  her  as  /  ha\e  ?  Do  you  ?  " 
he  asked,  sitting  upright  in  his  berth  and  looking  at  Mark, 
with  an  expression  of  great  earnestness  not  unmixed  with 
wonder. 

Mark  twisted  his  face  into  a  tight  knot,  and  with  his  head 
very  much  on  one  side  pondered  upon  this  question  as  if  he 
felt  it  an  extremely  difficult  one  to  answer.  He  was  relieved 
from  his  embarrassment  by  Martin  himself,  who  said,  as  he 
stretched  himself  upon  his  back  again  and  resumed  the  book 
he  had  been  reading  : 

"  But  what  is  the  use*  of  my  putting  such  a  case  to  you, 
when  the  ver)'  essence  of  what  I  have  been  saying,  is,  that 
you  cannot  by  possibility  understand  it  !  Make  me  a  little 
brandy-and-water,  cold  and  very  weak,  and  give  me  a  biscuit, 
and  tell  your  friend,  who  is  a  nearer  neighbor  of  ours  than 
I  could  wish,  to  tr}'  and  keep  her  children  a  little  quieter 
to-night  than  she  did  last  night  ;  that's  a  good  fellow." 

Mr.  Tapley  set  hunself  to  obey  these  orders  with  great 
alacrity,  and  pending  their  execution,  it  may  be  presumed  his 
flagging  spirits  revived,  inasmuch  as  he  several  times  observed, 
below  his  breath,  that  in  respect  of  its  power  of  imparting  a 
credit  to  jollity,  the  Screw  unquestionably  liad  some  decided 
advantages  over  the  Dragon.  He  also  remarked,  that  it  was 
a  high  gratification  to  him  to  reflect  that  he  would  carry  its 
main  excellence  ashore  with  him,  and  have  it  constantly  beside 
him,  wherever  he  went  ;  but  what  he  meant  by  these  consola- 
tory thoughts  he  did  not  explain. 

And  now  a  general  excitement  began  to  prevail  on  board  ; 
and  various  predictions  relative  to  the  precise  day,  and  even 
the  precise  hour  at  which  they  would  reach  New  York,  were 
freely  broached.  There  was  infinitely  more  crowding  on  deck 
and  looking  over  the  ship's  side  than  there  had  been  before; 
and  an  epidemic  broke  out  for  packing  up  things  every  morn- 
ing, which  required  unpacking  again  every  night.  Those  who 
had  any  letters  to  deliver,  or  any  friends  to   meet,   or  any 


26o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

settled  plans  of  going  anywhere  or  doing  anything,  discussed 
their  prospects  a  hundred  times  a  day  ;  and  as  this  class  of 
passengers  was  very  small,  and  the  number  of  those  who  had 
no  prospects  whatever  was  very  large,  there  were  plenty  of 
listeners  and  few  talkers.  Those  who  had  been  ill  all  alone, 
got  well  now,  and  those  who  had  been  well,  got  better.  An 
American  gentleman  in  the  after-cabin,  who  had  been  wrapped 
up  in  fur  and  oilskin  the  whole  passage,  unexpectedly  ap- 
peared in  a  very  shiny,  tall,  black  hat,  and  constantly  over- 
hauled a  very  little  valise  of  pale  leather,  which  contained  his 
clothes,  linen,  brushes,  shaving  apparatus,  books,  trinkets, 
and  other  baggage.  He  likewise  stuck  his  hands  deep  into 
his  pockets,  and  walked  the  deck  with  his  nostrils  dilated,  as 
already  inhaling  the  air  of  Freedom  which  carries  death  to  all 
tyrants,  and  can  never  (under  any  circumstances  worth  men- 
tioning) be  breathed  by  slaves.  An  English  gentleman  who 
was  strongly  suspected  of  having  run  away  from  a  bank,  with 
something  in  his  possession  belonging  to  its  strong-box  besides 
the  key,  grew  eloquent  upon  the  subject  of  the  rights  of  man, 
and  hummed  the  Marseillaise  Hymn  constantly.  In  a  word, 
one  great  sensation  pervaded  the  whole  ship,  and  the  soil  of 
America  lay  close  before  them,  so  close  at  last,  that,  upon 
a  certain  starlight  night,  they  took  a  pilot  on  board,  and 
within  a  few  hours  afterwards  lay  to  until  the  morning,  await- 
ing the  arrival  of  a  steam-boat  in  which  the  passengers  were 
to  be  conveyed  ashore. 

Off  she  came,  soon  after  it  was  light  next  morning,  and 
lying  alongside  an  hour  or  more — during  which  period  her 
very  firemen  were  objects  of  hardly  less  interest  and  curiosity, 
than  if  they  had  been  so  many  angels,  good  or  bad — took  all 
her  living  freight  aboard.  Among  them,  Mark,  who  still  had 
his  friend  and  her  three  children  under  his  close  protection  : 
and  Martin,  who  had  once  more  dressed  himself  in  his  usual 
attire,  but  wore  a  soiled,  old  cloak  above  his  ordinary  clothes, 
until  such  time  as  he  should  separate  for  ever  from  his  late 
companions. 

'rhe  steamer — which,  with  its  machinery  on  deck,  looked, 
as  it  worked  its  long  slim  legs,  like  some  enormously  magnitied 
insect  or  antediluvian  monster — dashed  at  great  speed  up  a 
beautiful  bay  ;  and  presently  they  saw  some  heights,  and 
Islands,  and  a  long,  flat,  straggling  city. 

"And  this,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  looking  far  ahead,  "is  the 
Land  of  Liberty,  is  it  ?  Very  well.  I'm  agreeable.  Any  land 
will  do  for  me,  after  so  much  water  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  261 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MARTIN  DISEMBARKS  FROM  THAT  NOBLE  AND  FAST-SAILING- 
LINE-OF-PACKET  SHIP,  THE  SCREW,  AT  THE  PORT  OF  NEW 
YORK,  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA.  HE  MAKES 
SOME  ACQUAINTANCES,  AND  DINES  AT  A  BOARDING-HOUSE. 
THE    PARTICULARS    OF    THOSE    TRANSACTIONS. 

Some  trifling  excitement  prevailed  upon  the  very  l)rink  and 
margin  of  the  land  of  liberty ;  for  an  alderman  had  been 
elected  the  day  before,  and  Party  Feeling  naturally  running 
rather  high  on  such  an  exciting  occasion,  the  friends  of  the 
disappointed  candidate  had  found  it  necessary  to  assert  the 
great  Principles  of  Purity  of  F^lection  and  Freedom  of  ( )pinion 
by  breaking  a  few  legs  and  arms,  and  furthermore  pursuing 
one  obnoxious  gentleman  through  the  streets  with  the  design 
of  slitting  his  nose.  These  good-humored  little  outbursts  of 
the  popular  fancy  were  not  in  themselves  sufficiently  remark- 
able to  create  any  great  stir,  after  the  lapse  of  a  whole  night  ; 
but  they  found  fresh  life  and  notoriety  in  the  breath  of  the 
newsboys,  who  not  only  proclaimed  them  with  shrill  yells  in 
all  the  highways  and  bye-ways  of  the  town,  upon  the  wharves 
and  among  the  shipping,  but  on  the  deck  and  down  in  the 
cabins  of  the  steam-boat  ;  which,  before  she  touched  the  shore, 
was  boarded  and  overrun  by  a  legion  of  those  young  citizens. 

"  Here's  this  morning's  New  York  Sewer !  "  cried  one. 
*'  Here's  this  morning's  New  York  Stabber  !  Here's  the  New 
York  Family  Spy  !  Here's  the  New  York  Private  Listener! 
Here's  the  New  York  Peeper !  Here's  the  New  York 
Plunderer  !  Here's  the  New  York  Keyhole  Reporter  !  Here's 
the  New  York  Rowdv  Tournal  !  Here's  all  the  New  York 
papers !  Here's  full  particulars  of  the  patriotic  loco-foco 
movement  yesterday,  in  which  the  whigs  was  so  chawed  up  ; 
and  the  last  Alabama  gouging  case  ;  and  the  interesting 
Arkansas  dooel  with  Bowie  knives ;  and  all  the  Political, 
Commercial,  and  Fashionable  News.  Here  they  are  !  Here 
they  are  !     Here's  the  papers,  here's  the  papers  !  " 

"  Here's  the  Sewer  !  "  cried  another.  "  Here's  the  New 
York  Sewer  !  Here's  some  of  the  twelfth  thousand  of  to-dav's 
Sewer,   with  the   best  accounts   of   the  markets,  and   all   the 


262  MARTIN-  CHUZZLEWIT. 

shipping  news,  and  four  whole  cohmins  of  country  corre- 
spondence, and  a  full  account  of  the  Uall  at  Mrs.  White's  last 
night,  where  all  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  New  York  was 
assembled  ;  with  the  Sewer's  own  particulars  of  the  private 
lives  of  all  the  ladies  that  was  there  !  Here's  the  Sewer  ! 
Here's  some  of  the  twelfth  thousand  of  the  New  York  Sewer ! 
Here's  the  Sewer's  exposure  of  the  Wall  Street  Gang,  and  the 
Sewer's  exposure  of  the  Washington  Gang,  and  the  Sewer's 
exclusive  account  of  a  flagrant  act  of  dishonesty  committed 
by  the  Secretary  of  State  when  he  was  eight  years  old  ;  now 
communicated,  at  a  great  expense,  by  his  own  nurse.  Here's 
the  Sewer !  Here's  the  New  York  Sewer,  in  its  twelfth 
thousand,  with  a  whole  column  of  New  Yorkers  to  be  shown 
up,  and  all  their  names  printed  !  Here's  the  Sewer's  article 
upon  the  Judge  that  tried  him,  day  afore  yesterday,  for  libel, 
and  the  Sewer's  tribute  to  the  independent  Jury  that  didn't 
convict  him,  and  the  Sewer's  account  of  what  they  might  have 
expected  if  they  had  !  Here's  the  Sewer,  here's  the  Sewer ! 
Here's  the  wide-awake  Sewer ;  always  on  the  look-out  ;  the 
leading  Journal  of  the  United  States,  now  in  its  twelfth 
thousand,  and  still  a  printing  off.  Here's  the  New  York 
Sewer  !  " 

"  It  is  in  such  enlightened  means,"  said  a  voice  almost  in 
Martin's  ear,  "  that  the  bubbling  passions  of  my  country  find 
a  vent." 

Martin  turned  involuntarily,  and  saw,  standing  close  at 
his  side,  a  sallow  gentleman,  with  sunken  cheeks,  black  hair, 
small  twinkling  eyes,  and  a  singular  expression  hovering  about 
that  region  of  his  face,  which  was  not  a  frown,  nor  a  leer,  and 
yet  might  have  been  mistaken  at  the  first  glance  for  either. 
Indeed  it  would  have  been  difficult,  on  a  much  closer 
acquaintance,  to  describe  it  in  any  more  satisfactory  terms 
than  as  a  mixed  expression  of  vulgar  cunning  and  conceit. 
This  gentleman  wore  a  rather  broad-brimmed  hat  for  the 
greater  wisdom  of  his  appearance  ;  and  had  his  arms  folded 
for  the  greater  impressiveness  of  his  attitude.  He  was  some- 
what shabbily  dressed  in  a  blue  surtout  reaching  nearly  to  his 
ankles-,  short  loose  trousers  of  the  same  color,  and  a  faded 
buff  waistcoat,  through  which  a  discolored  shirt-frill  struggled 
to  force  itself  into  notice,  as  asserting  an  equality  of  civil 
rights  with  the  other  portions  of  his  dress,  and  maintaining  a 
declaration  of  Independence  on  its  own  account.  His  feet, 
which  were  of   unusually   large   proportions,  were   leisurely 


»-  ^ 


MA  R  TIN  CHI  'ZZL  E  WIT.  263 

crossed  before  him  as  he  half  leaned  against,  half  sat  upon, 
the  steamboat's  bulwark ;  and  his  thick  cane,  shod  with  a 
mighty  ferule  at  one  end  and  armed  with  a  great  metal  knob 
at  the  other,  depended  from  a  line-and-tassel  on  his  wrist. 
Thus  attired,  and  thus  composed  into  an  aspect  of  great  pro- 
fundity, the  gentleman  twitched  up  the  right-hand  corner  of 
his  mouth  and  his  right  eye,  simultaneously,  and  said,  once 
more  . 

"  It  is  in  such  enlightened  means,  that  the  bubbling  pas- 
sions of  my  country  find  a  vent." 

As  he  looked  at  Martin,  and  nobody  else  was  by,  Martin 
inclined  his  head,  and  said  : 

"  You  allude  to—  .'  " 

"  To  the  Palladium  of  rational  Liberty  at  home  sir,  and 
the  dread  of  FoTeign  oppression  abroad,"  returned  the  gentle- 
man, as  he  pointed  with  his  cane  to  an  uncommonly  dirty 
newsboy  with  one  eye  "  To  the  Envy  of  the  world,  sir,  and 
the  leaders  of  Human  Civilization.  Let  me  ask  you,  sir,"  he 
added,  bringing  the  ferule  of  his  stick  heavily  upon  the  deck 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  must  not  be  equivocated  with, 
"  how  do  you  like  my  Coun-try  ?  " 

"I  am  hardly  prepared  to  answer  that  question,"  said 
Martin,  •'  seeing  that  I  have  not  been  ashore." 

"Well,  I  should  expect  you  were  not  prepared,  sir,"  said 
the  gentleman,  "  to  behold  such  signs  of  National  Prosperity 
as  those  ?" 

He  pointed  to  the  vessels  lying  at  the  wharves  ;  and  then 
gave  a  vague  flourish  with  his  stick,  as  if  he  would  include  the 
air  and  water,  generally,  in  this  remark. 

"  Really,"  said  Martin,  "I  don't  know.  Yes.   I  think  I  was." 

The  gentleman  glanced  at  him  with  a  knowing  look,  and 
said  he  liked  his  policy.  It  was  natural,  he  said,  and  it 
pleased  him  as  a  philosopher  to  observe  the  prejudices  of  hu- 
man nature. 

"  You  have  brought,  I  see,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  round 
towards  Martin,  and  resting  his  chin  on  the  top  of  his  stick, 
"  the  usual  amount  of  misery  and  poverty  and  ignorance  and 
crime,  to  be  located  in  the  bosom  of  the  great  Republic. 
Well,  sir !  let  'em  come  on  in  ship-loads  from  the  old  countr}'. 
When  vessels  are  about  to  founder,  the  rats  are  said  to  leave 
'em.     There  is  considerable  of  truth,  I  find,  in  that  remark." 

"The  old  ship  will  keep  afloat  a  year  or  two  longer  yet, 
perhaps,"  said  Martin  with  a  smile,  partly  occasioned  by  what 


264  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

tlie  gentleman  said,  and  partly  by  his  manner  of  saying  it, 
which  was  odd  enough,  for  he  emphasized  all  the  small  woids 
and  syllables  in  his  discourse,  and  left  the  others  to  take  care 
of  themselves,  as  if  he  thought  the  larger  parts  of  speech 
could  be  trusted  alone,  but  the  little  ones  required  to  be  con- 
stantly looked  after. 

"  Hope  is  said  by  the  poet,"  observed  the  gentleman,  "  to 
be  the  nurse  of  Young  Desire." 

Martin  signified  that  he  had  heard  of  the  cardinal  virtue 
in  question  serving  occasionally  in  that  domestic  capacity. 

"  She  will  not  rear  her  infant  in  the  present  instance,  sir, 
you'll  find,"  observed  the  gentleman. 

"  Time  will  show,"  said  Martin. 

The  gentleman  nodded  his  head,  gravely,  and  said ; 
"What  is  your  name,  sir.''" 

Martin  told  him 

"  How  old  are  you,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  told  him. 

"  What  is  your  profession,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  told  him  that,  also. 

"What  is  your  destination,  sir,?"   inquired  the  gentleman. 

'*  Really,"  said  Martin,  laughing,  "  1  can't  satisfy  you  in 
that  particular,  for  I  don't  know  it  myself." 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  the  gentleman. 

"  No,"  said  Martin. 

The  gentleman  adjusted  his  cane  under  his  left  arm,  and 
took  a  more  deliberate  and  complete  survey  of  Martin  than 
he  had  yet  had  leisure  to  make.  When  he  had  completed  his 
inspection,  he  put  out  his  right  hand,  shook  Martin's  hand, 
and  said  ; 

"  My  name  is  Colonel  Diver,  sir.  I  am  the  Editor  of  the 
New  York  Rowdy  Journal." 

Martin  received  the  communication  with  that  degree  of 
respect  which  an  announcement  so  distinguished  appeared  to 
demand. 

"  The  New  York  Rowdy  Journal,  sir,"  resumed  the  colo- 
nel, "  is,  as  I  expect  you  know,  the  organ  of  our  aristocracy 
in  this  city" 

"  Oh  !  there  is  an  aristocracy  here,  then  ?  "  said  Martin, 
"  Of  what  is  it  composed  .''  " 

"  Of  intelligence,  sir,"  replied  the  colonel ;  "  of  intelligence 
and  virtue.  And  of  their  necessary  consequence  in  this  re- 
public.    Dollars,  sir." 


MARTIX  CHUZZLEU'IT.  265 

Martin  was  ver}'  glad  to  hear  this,  feeUng  well  assured  that 
if  intelligence  and  virtue  led,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the  ac- 
quisition of  dollars,  he  would  speedily  become  a  great  capital- 
ist. He  was  about  to  express  the  gratification  such  news 
afforded  him,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  captain  of  the 
ship,  who  came  up  at  the  moment  to  shake  hands  with  the 
colonel  ;  and  who,  seeing  a  well-dressed  stranger  on  the  deck 
(for  Martin  had  thrown  aside  his  cloak),  shook  hands  with 
him  also.  This  was  an  unspeakable  relief  to  Martin,  who,  in 
spite  of  the  acknowledged  supremacy  of  Intelligence  and  vir- 
tue in  that  happy  countr}',  would  have  been  deeply  mortified 
to  appear  before  Colonel  Diver  in  the  poor  character  of  a 
steerage  passenger. 

"  Well,  cap'en  !  "  said  the  colonel. 

"  Well,  colonel ! "  cried  the  captain.  "  You're  looking 
most  uncommon  bright,  sir.  I  can  hardly  realize  its  being 
you,  and  that's  a  fact." 

"  A  good  iDassage,  cap'en  ?  "  inquired  the  colonel  taking 
him  aside. 

"Well  now!  It  was  a  pretty  spanking  run,  sir,"  said,  or 
rather  sung,  the  captain,  who  was  a  genuine  New  Englander, 
"  con-siderin  the  weather." 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  the  colonel. 

"Well!  It  was  sir,"  said  the  captain.  "I've  just  now 
sent  a  boy  up  to  your  office  with  the  passenger-list,  colonel." 

"  You  haven't  got  another  boy  to  spare,  p'raps,  cap'en  ?  " 
said  the  colonel,  in  a  tone  almost  amounting  to  severity. 

"  I  guess  there  air  a  dozen  if  you  want  'em,  colonel,"  said 
the  captain. 

"  One  moderate  big  'un  could  convey  a  dozen  of  cham- 
pagne, perhaps,"  obsened  the  colonel  musing,  "  to  my  office. 
You  said  a  spanking  nni,  1  think  .'' " 

"  Well,  so  I  did,"  was  the  reply. 

"  It's  very  nigh  you  know,"  observed  the  colonel.  "  I'm 
glad  it  was  a  spanking  run,  cap'en.  Don't  mind  about  quarts 
if  you're  short  of  'em.  The  boy  can  as  well  bring  four-and- 
twenty  pints,  and  travel  twice  as  once. — A  first-rate  spanker, 
cap'en,  was  it  ?     Yes  t  " 

"A  most  e — tarnal  spanker,"  said  the  skipper. 

"  I  admire  at  your  good  fortun,  cap'en.  You  might  loan 
me  a  corkscrew  at  the  same  time,  and  half-a-dozen  glasses  if 
you  liked.  However  bad  the  elements  combine  against  my 
country's  noble  packet-ship,  the  Screw,  sir,"  said  the  colonel, 


2 66  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

turning  to  Martin,  and  drawing  a  flourish  on  the  surface  of 
the  deck  with  his  cane,  "  her  passage  either  way,  is  ahnost 
certain  to  eventuate  a  spanker !  " 

The  captain,  who  had  the  Sewer  below  at  that  moment, 
lunching  expensively  in  one  cabin,  while  the  amiable  Stabber 
was  drinking  himself  into  a  state  of  blind  madness  in  another, 
took  a  cordial  leave  of  his  friend  the  colonel,  and  hurried 
away  to  despatch  the  champagne,  well-knowing  (as  it  after- 
wards appeared)  that  if  he  failed  to  conciliate  the  editor  of 
the  Rowdy  Journal,  that  potentate  would  denounce  him  and 
his  ship  in  large  capitals  before  he  was  a  day  older ;  and 
would  probably  assault  the  memory  of  his  mother  also,  who 
had  not  been  dead  more  than  twenty  years.  The  colonel 
being  again  left  alone  with  Martin,  checked  him  as  he  was 
moving  away,  and  offered,  in  consideration  of  his  being  an 
Englishman,  to  show  him  the  town  and  to  introduce  him,  if 
such  were  his  desire,  to  a  genteel  boarding-house.  But  before 
they  entered  on  these  proceedings  (he  said ),  he  would  beseech 
the  honor  of  his  company  at  the  oihce  of  the  Rowdy  Journal, 
to  partake  of  a  bottle  of  champagne  of  his  own  importation. 

All  this  was  so  extremely  kind  and  hospitable,  that  Martin, 
though  it  was  quite  early  in  the  morning,  readily  acquiesced. 
So,  instructing  Mark,  who  was  deeply  engaged  with  his  friend 
and  her  three  children,  that  when  he  had  done  assisting  them, 
and  had  cleared  the  ba2rs:a2fe,  he  was  to  wait  for  further  orders 
at  the  Rowdy  Journal  Office,  Martin  accompanied  his  new 
friend  on  shore. 

They  made  their  way  as  they  best  could  through  the  mel- 
ancholy crowd  of  emigrants  upon  the  wharf,  who,  grouped 
about  their  beds  and  boxes,  with  the  bare  ground  below  them 
and  the  bare  sky  above,  might  have  fallen  from  another  planet, 
for  anything  they  knew  of  the  country  ;  and  walked  for  some 
sl'kort  distance  along  a  busy  street,  bounded  on  one  side  by 
the  quays  and  shipping  ;  and  on  the  other  by  a  long  row  of 
staring  red-brick  storehouses  and  offices,  ornamented  with 
more  black  boards  and  white  letters,  and  more  white  boards 
and  black  letters,  than  Martin  had  ever  seen  before,  in  fifty 
times  the  space.  Presently  they  turned  up  a  narrow  street, 
and  presentlv  into  other  narrow  streets,  until  at  last  they 
stopped  before  a  house  whereon  was  painted  in  great  charac- 
ters, "  Rowdy  Journal." 

The  colonel,  who  had  walked  the  whole  way  with  one  hand 
in  his  breast,  his  head  occasionally  wagging  from  side  to  side, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  267 

and  liis  hat  thrown  back  upon  his  ears,  Hke  a  man  who  was 
oppressed  to  inconvenience  by  a  sense  of  his  own  greatness, 
lead  the  way  up  a  dark  and  dirty  flight  of  stairs  into  a  room 
of  similar  character,  all  littered  and  bestrewn  with  odds  and 
ends  of  newspapers  and  other  crumpled  fragments,  both  in 
proof  and  manuscript. .  Behind  a  mangy  old  writing-table  in 
this  apartment,  sat  a  figure  with  a  stump  of  a  pen  in  its  mouth 
and  a  great  pair  of  scissors  in  its  right  hand,  clipping  and 
slicing  at  a  file  of  Rowdy  Journals  ;  and  it  was  such  a  laugh- 
able figure  that  Martin  Jiad  some  difficulty  in  preserving  his 
gravity,  though  conscious  of  the  close  obsen-ation  of  Colonel 
Diver. 

The  individual  who  sat  clipping  and  slicing  as  aforesaid  at 
the  Rowdy  Jouraals,  was  a  small  young  gentleman  of  very 
juvenile  appearance,  and  unwholesomely  pale  in  the  face'; 
partly,  perhaps,  from  intense  thought,  but  partly,  there  is  no 
doubt,  from  the  excessive  use  of  tobacco,  which  he  was  at 
that  moment  chewing  vigorously.  He  wore  his  shirt-collar 
turned  down  over  a  black  ribbon  ;  and  his  lank  hair,  a  fragile 
crop,  was  not  only  smoothed  and  parted  back  from  his  brow, 
that  none  of  the  Poetry  of  his  aspect  might  be  lost,  but  had, 
here  and  there,  been  grubbed  up  by  the  roots,  which  account- 
ed for  his  loftiest  developments  being  somewhat  pimply.  He 
had  that  order  of  nose  on  which  the  envy  of  mankind  has  be- 
stowed the  appellation  "  snub,"  and  it  was  ver\'  much  turned 
up  at  the  end,  as  with  a  lofty  scorn.  Upon  the  upper  lip  of  tiiis 
young  gentleman,  were  tokens  of  a  sandy  down,  so  \er\',  very 
smooth  and  scant,  that,  though  encouraged  to  the  utmost,  it 
looked  more  like  a  recent  trace  of  gingerbread,  than  the  fair 
promise  of  a  mustache  ;  and  this  conjecture,  his  apparently 
tender  age  went  far  to  strengthen.  He  was  intent  upon  his 
work.  Ever)'  time  he  snapped  the  great  pair  of  scissors,  he 
made  a  corresponding  motion  with  his  jaws,  which  gave  him  a 
very  terrible  appearance. 

Martin  was  not  long  in  determining  within  himself  that 
this  must  be  Colonel  Diver's  son  ;  the  hope  of  the  family,  and 
future  mainspring  of  the  Rowdy  Journal  Indeed  he  had 
begun  to  say  that  he  presumed  this  was  the  Colonel's  little 
boy,  and  that  it  was  ver}- pleasant  to  see  him  plaving  at  Editor 
in  all  the  guilelessness  of  childhood,  when  the  colonel  proudly 
interposed  and  said  : 

"  My  War  Correspondent,  sir.     Mr.  Jefferson  "Trick  !  " 

Martin  could  not  help  starting  at  this  unexpected  announce- 


268  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ment,  and  the  consciousness  of  the  irretrievable  mistake  he 
had  nearly  made. 

Mr.  Brick  seemed  pleased  with  the  sensation  he  produced 
upon  the  stranger,  and  shook  hands  with  him,  with  an  air  of 
patronage  designed  to  reassure  him,  and  to  let  him  know  that 
there  was  no  occasion  to  be  frightened,  for  he  (Brick)  wouldn't 
hurt  him. 

"You  have  heard  of  Jefferson  Brick  I  see,  sir,"  quoth  the 
colonel,  with  a  smile.  "  England  has  heard  of  JefTerson  Brick, 
Europe  has  heard  of  Jefferson  Brick.  Let  me  see.  When 
did  30U  leave  England,  sir  ?  " 

"Five  weeks  ago,"  repeated  the  colonel,  thoughtfully;  as 
he  took  his  seat  upon  the  table  and  swung  his  legs.  "  Now 
let  me  ask  you,  sir,  which  of  Mr.  Brick's  articles  had  become 
at  that  time  the  most  obnoxious  to  the  British  Parliament  and 
the  Court  of  Saint  James's  ?  " 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Martin,  "  I — " 

"  I  have  reason  to  know  sir,"  interrupted  the  colonel, 
"  that  the  aristocratic  circles  of  your  country  quail  before 
the  name  of  Jefferson  Brick.  I  should  like  to  be  informed, 
sir,  from  your  lips,  which  of  his  sentiments  has  struck  the 
deadliest  blow — " 

"  At  the  hundred  heads  of  the  Hydra  of  Corruption  now 
grovelling  in  the  dust  beneath  the  lance  of  Reason,  and 
spouting  up  to  the  vmiversal  arch  above  us,  its  sanguinaiy  gore," 
said  Mr.  Brick,  putting  on  a  little  blue  cloth  cap  with  a  glazed 
front,  and  quoting  his  last  article. 

"  The  libation  of  freedom.  Brick,"  hinted  the  colonel. 

"  Must  sometimes  be  quaffed  in  blood,  colonel,"  cried  Brick, 
And  when  he  said  "blood,"  he  gave  the  great  pair  of  scissors 
a  sharp  snap,  as  if  ihcy  said  blood  too,  and  were  quite  of  his 
opinion. 

This  done,  they  both  looked  at  Martin,  pausing  for  a 
reply. 

"Upon  my  life,"  said  Martin,  who  had  by  this  time  quite 
recovered  his  usual  coolness,  "  I  can't  give  you  any  satisfac- 
tory information  about  it  ;  for  the  truth  is  that  I — " 

"Stop  !  "  cried  the  colonel,  glancing  sternly  at  his  war  cor- 
respondent, and  giving  his  head  one  shake  after  every  sentence. 
"  That  you  never  heard  of  Jefferson  Brick,  sir.  That  you 
never  read  Jefferson  Brick,  sir.  That  you  never  saw  the 
Rowdy  Journal,  sir.  That  you  never  knew,  sir  of  its  mighty 
influence  upon  the  cabinets  of  Eu — rope.     Yes  ?  " 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 


269 


"  That's  what  I  was  about  to  observe,  certainly,"  said 
Martin. 

"  Keep  cool,  Jefferson,"  said  the  colonel  gravely.  "  Don't 
bust  !  oh  you  Europeans  !  Arter  that,  let's  have  a  glass  of 
wine  !  "  So  saying,  he  got  down  from  the  table,  and  produced, 
from  a  basket  outside  the  door,  a  bottle  of  champagne,  and 
three  glasses. 

"  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  filling  Martin's 
glass  and  his  own,  and  pushing  the  bottle  to  that  gentleman, 
"will  give  us  a  sentiment." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  cried  the  war  correspondent,  "  since  you  have 
concluded  to  call  upon  me,  I  will  respond.  I  will  give  you, 
sir,  The  Rowdy  Journal  and  its  brethren  ;  the  well  of  Truth, 
whose  waters  are  black  from  being  composed  of  printers'  ink, 
but  are  quite  clear  enough  for  my  country  to  behold  the 
shadow  of  her  Destiny  reflected  in." 

"  Hear,  hear  !"  cried  the  colonel,  with  great  complacency. 
"  There  are  flowery  components,  sir,  in  the  language  of  my 
friend  ?  " 

"  Very  much  so,  indeed,'"  said  Martin. 

"There  is  to-day's  Rowdy,  sir,"  observed  the  colonel, 
handing  him  a  paper.  "  You'll  find  Jefferson  Brick  at  his 
usual  post  in  the  van  of  human  civilization  and  moral  purity." 

The  colonel  was  by  this  time  seated  on  the  table  again. 
Mr.  Brick  also  took  up  a  position  on  that  same  piece  of  furni- 
ture ;  and  they  fell  to  drinking  pretty  hard.  They  often 
looked  at  Martin  as  he  read  the  paper,  and  then  at  each  other. 
When  he  laid  it  down,  which  was  not  until  they  had  finished 
a  second  bottle,  the  colonel  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  it. 

"  Why,  it's  horribly  personal,"  said  Martin. 

The  colonel  seemed  much  flattered  by  this  remark  ;  and 
said  he  hoped  it  was. 

"  We  are  independent  here,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 
"We  do  as  we  like." 

"  If  I  may  judge  from  this  specimen,"  returned  Martin, 
"  there  must  be  a  few  thousands  here,  rather  the  reverse  of 
independent,  who  do  as  they  don't  like." 

"  Well  !  They  yield  to  the  miglity  mind  of  the  Popular 
Instructor,  sir,"  said  the  colonel.  "  They  rile  up,  sometimes  ; 
but  in  general  we  have  a  hold  upon  our  citizens,  both  in  public 
and  in  private  life,  which  is  as  much  one  of  the  ennobling 
institutions  of  our  happy  country  as —  " 

"As  nigger  slavery  itself,"  suggested  Mr.  Brick. 


270 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


« 


En — tirely  so,"  remarked  the  colonel. 

"  Pray,"  said  Martin,  after  some  hesitation,  "  may  I  venture 
to  ask,  with  reference  to  a  case  I  observe  in  this  paper  of 
yours,  whether  the  Popular  Instructor  often  deals  in — 1  am 
at  a  loss  to  express  it  without  giving  you  offence — in  forgery  ? 
In  forged  letters,  for  instance,"  he  pursued,  for  the  colonel 
was  perfectly  calm  and  quite  at  his  ease,  "  solemnly  purporting 
to  have  been  written  at  recent  periods  by  living  men  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  replied  the  colonel.  "  It  does,  now  and 
then." 

"  And  the  popular  instructed  ;  what  do  they  do .''  "  asked 
Martin. 

"  Buy  'em,"  said  the  colonel. 

Mr  Jefferson  Brick  expectorated  and  laughed  ;  the  former 
copiously,  the  latter  approvingly. 

"Buy  'em  by  hundreds  of  thousands,"  resumed  the  colonel. 
"  We  are  a  smart  people  here,  and  can  appreciate  smartness." 

"  Is  smartness  American  for  forgery?  ''  asked  Martin. 

"  Well !  "  said  the  colonel,  "  I  expect  it's  American  for  a 
good  many  things  that  you  call  by  other  names.  But  you 
can't  help  yourselves  in  Europe.     We  can." 

"  And  do,  sometimes,"  thought  Martin.  "  You  help  your- 
selves with  very  little  ceremony,  too  !  " 

"  At  all  events,  whatever  name  we  choose  to  employ,"  said 
the  colonel,  stooping  down  to  roll  the  third  empty  bottle  into 
a  corner  after  the  other  two,  "  I  suppose  the  art  of  forgery 
was  not  invented  here,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Martin. 

"  Nor  any  other  kind  of  smartness,  I  reckon  ? ' 

"  Invented  !     No,  I  presume  not." 

"  Well !  "  said  the  colonel  ;  "  then  we  got  it  all  from  the 
old  country,  and  the  old  countr^^'s  to  blame  for  it,  and  not  the 
new  'un.  There's  an  end  of  that.  Now,  if  Mr.  Jefferson 
Brick  and  you  will  be  so  good  as  clear,  I'll  come  out  last,  and 
lock  the  door  " 

Rightly  interpreting  this  as  the  signal  for  their  departure. 
Martin  walked  down  stairs  after  the  war  correspondent,  who 
preceded  him  with  great  majesty.  The  colonel  following,  tliey 
left  the  Rowdy  Journal  Office  and  walked  forth  into  the 
streets,  Martin  feeling  doubtful  whether  he  ought  to  kick  the 
colonel  for  having  presumed  to  speak  to  him,  or  whether  it 
came  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  he  and  his  estab- 
lishment could  be  among  the  boasted  usages  of  that  regene- 
rated land. 


MAR  TIN  CIIUZZLE  WIT.  2  7 1 

It  was  clear  that  Colonel  Diver,  in  the  security  of  his 
strong  position,  and  in  his  perfect  understanding  of  the  public 
sentiment,  cared  very  little  what  Martin  or  anybody  else 
thought  about  him.  His  high-spiced  wares  were  made  to  sell, 
and  they  sold  ;  and  his  thousands  of  readers  could  as  rationally 
charge  their  delight  in  filth  upon  him,  as  a  glutton  can  shift 
upon  his  cook  the  responsibility  of  his  beasdy  excess. 
Nothing  would  have  delighted  the  colonel  more  than  to  be 
told  that  no  such  man  as  he,  could  walk  in  high  success  the 
streets  of  any  other  country  in  the  world  ;  for  that  would  only 
have  been  a  logical  assurance  to  him  of  the  correct  adaptation 
of  his  labors  to  the  prevailing  taste,  and  of  his  being  strictly 
and  peculiarly  a  national  feature  of  America. 

They  walked  a  mile  or  more  along  a  handsome  street 
which  the  colonel  said  was  called  Broadway,  and  which  Mr. 
Jefferson  Brick  said  "  whipped  the  ui.-iiverse."  Turning,  at 
length,  into  one  of  the  numerous  streets  which  branched  from 
this  main  thoroughfare,  they  stopped  before  a  rather  mean- 
looking  house  with  jalousie  blinds  to  every  window  ;  a  flight 
of  steps  before  the  green  street-door  ;  a  shining  white  orna- 
ment on  the  rails  on  either  side  like  a  petritiecl  pine-apple, 
polished  ;  a  little  oblong  plate  of  the  same  material  over  the 
knocker,  whereon  the  name  of  "  Pawkins  "  was  engraved  ; 
and  four  accidental  pigs  looking  down  the  area. 

The  colonel  knocked  at  this  house  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  lived  there  ;  and  an  Irish  girl  popped  her  head  out  of 
one  of  the  top  windows  to  see  who  it  was.  Pending  her 
journey  down  stairs,  the  pigs  were  joined  by  two  or  "three 
friends  from  the  next  street,  in  company  with  whom  they  lay 
down  sociably  in  the  gutter. 

"  Is  the  major  in-doors  ?  "  inquired  llie  colonel,  as  he  en- 
tered. 

"  Is  it  the  master,  sir.?  "  returned  the  girl,  with  a  hesitation 
which  seemed  to  imply  that  they  were  rather  Rush  of  majors 
in  that  establishment. 

"  The  master  !  "  said  Colonel  Diver,  stopping  short  and 
looking  round  at  his  war  correspondent. 

"  Oh  !  The  depressing  institutions  of  that  British  empire, 
colonel  "  said  Jefferson  Brick.     ''  Master  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  word  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  I  should  hope  it  was  never  heard  in  our  country,  sir  : 
that's  all,"'  said  Jefferson  Brick  :  "except  when  it  is  used  by 
some  degraded  Help,  as  new  to  the  blessings  of  our  form  of 
government,  as  this  Help  is.     There  are  no  masters  here." 


272 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


"  All  '  owners,'  are  they  ?  "  said  Martin. 

Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  followed  in  the  Rowdy  Journal's  foot- 
steps without  returning  any  answer.  Martin  took  the  same 
course,  thinl^ing  as  he  went,  that  perhaps  the  free  and  inde- 
pendent citizens,  who  in  their  moral  elevation,  owned  the 
colonel  for  their  master,  might  render  better  homage  to  the 
goddess,  Liberty,  in  nightly  dreams  upon  the  oven  of  a  Russian 
Serf. 

The  colonel  led  the  way  into  a  room  at  the  back  of  the 
house  upon  the  ground-floor,  light,  and  of  fair  dimensions,  but 
exquisitely  uncomfortable,  having  nothing  in  it  but  the  four 
cold  white  walls  and  ceiling,  a  mean  carpet,  a  dreary  waste  of 
dining-table  reaching  from  end  to  end,  and  a  bewildering 
collection  of  cane-bottomed  chairs.  In  a  further  region  of 
this  banqueting-hall  was  a  stove,  garnished  on  either  side  with 
a  great  brass  spittoon,  and  shaped  in  itself  like  three  little 
iron  barrels  set  up  on  end  in  a  fender,  and  joined  together  on 
the  principle  of  the  Siamese  Twins.  Before  it,  swinging  him- 
self in  a  rocking-chair,  lounged  a  large  gentleman  with  his  hat 
on,  who  amused  himself  by  spitting  alternately  into  the  spit- 
toon on  the  right  hand  of  the  stove,  and  the  spittoon  on  the 
left,  and  then  working  his  way  back  again  in  the  same  order. 
A  negro  lad.  in  a  soiled  white  jacket  was  busily  engaged  in 
placing  on  the  table  two  long  rows  of  knives  and  forks,  relieved 
at  intervals  by  jugs  of  water ;  and  as  he  travelled  down  one 
side  of  this  festive  board,  he  straightened  with  his  dirty  hands 
the  dirtier  cloth,  which  was  all  askew,  and  had  not  been 
removed  since  breakfast.  The  atmosphere  of  this  room  was 
rendered  intensely  hot  and  stifling  by  the  stove  ;  but  being 
further  flavored  by  a  sickly  gush  of  soup  from  the  kitchen, 
and  by  such  remote  suggestions  of  tobacco  as  lingered  within 
the  brazen  receptacles  already  mentioned,  it  became,  to  a 
stranger's  senses,  almost  insupportable. 

The  gentleman  in  the  rocking-chair  having  his  back  to- 
wards them,  and  being  much  engaged  in  his  intellectual  pas- 
time, was  not  aware  of  their  approach  until  the  colonel  walk- 
ing up  to  the  stove,  contributed  his  mite  towards  the  support 
of  the  left-hand  spittoon,  just  as  the  major — for  it  was  the 
major — bore  down  upon  it.  Major  Pawkins  then  reserved 
his  fire,  and  looking  upward,  said,  with  a  peculiar  air  of  quiet 
weariness,  like  a  man  who  had  been  up  all  night — an  air  which 
Martin  had  already  observed  both  in  the  colonel  and  Mr. 
Jefferson  Brick — 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  273 

''  "  Well,  colonel !  " 

"  Here  is  a  gentleman  from  England,  major,"  the  colonel 
replied,  "who  has  concluded  to  locate  himself  here  if  the 
amount  of  compensation  suits  him." 

"  1  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  obser\'ed  the  major,  shaking 
hands  with  Martin,   and  not  moving   a  muscle  of  his   face. 
"  You  are  pretty  bright,  I  hope  .''  " 
'  "  Never  better,"  said  Martin. 

"  You  are  never  likely  to  be,"  returned  the  major.  "You 
will  see  the  sun  shine  here  J'' 

"  I  think  I  remember  to  have  seen  it  shine  at  home  some- 
times," said  Martin,  smiling. 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  the  major.  He  said  so  with  a 
stoical  indifference  certainly,  but  still  in  a  tone  of  firmness 
which  admitted  of  no  further  dispute  on  that  point.  When  he 
had  thus  settled  the  question,  he  put  his  hat  a  little  on  one 
side  for  the  greater  convenience  of  scratching  his  head,  and 
saluted  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  with  a  lazy  nod. 

Major  Pawkins  (a  gentleman  of  Pennsylvanian  origin)  was 
distinguished  by  a  very  large  skull,  and  a  great  mass  of  yellow 
forehead  ;  in  deference  to  which  commodities,  it  was  currently 
held  in  bar-rooms  and  other  such  places  of  resort,  that  the 
major  was  a  man  of  huge  sagacity.  He  was  further  to  be 
known  by  a  heavy  eye  and  a  dull  slow  manner ;  and  for  being 
a  man  of  that  kind  who,  mentally  speaking,  requires  a  deal  of 
room  to  turn  himself  in.  15ut,  in  trading  on  his  stock  of  wis- 
dom, he  invariably  proceeded  on  the  jirinciple  of  putting  all 
the  goods  he  had  (and  more)  into  his  window ;  and  that  went 
a  great  way  with  his  constituency  of  admirers.  It  went  a 
great  way,  perhaps,  with  Mr.  Jefferson  Prick,  who  took  occa- 
sion to  whisper  in  Martin's  ear  : 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  our  countr)-,  sir !  " 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  perpetual  ex- 
hibition in  the  market-place  of  all  his  stock-in-trade  for  sale 
or  hire,  was  the  major's  sole  claim  to  a  very  large  share  of 
sympathy  and  support.  He  was  a  great  politician  ;  and  the 
one  article  of  his  creed,  in  reference  to  all  public  obligations 
involving  the  good  faith  and  integrity  of  his  country,  was, 
"  run  a  moist  pen  slick  through  everything,  and  start  fresh." 
This  made  him  a  patriot.  In  commercial  affairs  he  was  3 
bold  speculator.  In  plainer  words,  he  had  a  most  distinguished 
genius  for  swindling,  and  could  start  a  bank,  or  negociate  a 
loan,  or  form   a  land-jobbing  company  (entailing  ruin,  pesti- 

18 


274 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


lence,  and  death,  on  hundreds  of  families),  with  any  gifted 
creature  in  the  Union.  This  made  him  an  admirable  man  of 
business.  He  could  hang  about  a  bar-room,  discussing  the 
affairs  of  the  nation,  for  twelve  hours  together ;  and  in  that 
time  could  hold  forth  with  more  intolerable  dulness,  chew 
more  tobacco,  smoke  more  tobacco,  drink  more  rum-toddy, 
mint-julep,  gin-sling,  and  cock-tail,  than  any  private  gentleman 
of  his  acquaintance.  This  made  him  an  orator  and  a  man  of 
the  people.  In  a  word,  the  major  was  a  rising  character,  and 
a  i^opular  character,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  sent  by  the 
popular  party  to  the  State  House  of  New  York,  if  not  in  the 
end  to  Washington  itself.  But  as  a  man's  private  prosperity 
does  not  always  keep  pace  with  his  patriotic  devotion  to  pub- 
lic affairs ;  and  as  fraudulent  transactions  have  their  downs 
as  well  as  ups  ;  the  major  was  occasionally  under  a  cloud. 
Hence,  just  now,  Mrs.  Pawkins  kept  a  boarding-house,  and 
Major  Pawkins  rather  "  loafed  "  his  time  away,  than  other- 
wise. 

"  You  have  come  to  visit  our  countr}',  sir,  at  a  season  of 
great  commercial  depression,"  said  the  major. 

"  At  an  alarming  crisis,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  At  a  period  of  unprecedented  stagnation,"  said  Mr. 
Jefferson  Brick. 

"  I  am  soriy  to  hear  that,"  returned  Martin.  "  It's  not 
likely  to  last,  I  hope  ?  " 

Martin  knew  nothing  about  America,  or  he  would  have 
known  perfectly  well  that  if  its  individual  citizens,  to  a  man, 
are  to  be  believed,  it  always  is  depressed,  and  always  is  stag- 
nated, and  always  is  at  an  alarmmg  crisis,  and  never  was 
otherwise  ■  though  as  a  body  they  are  ready  to  make  oath 
upon  the  Evangelists  at  any  hour  of  the  clay  or  night,  that  it 
is  the  most  thriving  and  prosperous  of  all  countries  on  the 
habitable  globe. 

"'  It's  not  likely  to  last,  I  hope? "  said  Martin. 

"Well!"  returned  the  major,  "I  expect  we  shall  get 
along  somehow,  and  come  right  in  the  end." 

''  We  are  an  elastic  countr)',"  said  the  Rowdy  Journal. 

"We  are  a  young  lion,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 

"  We  have  revivifying  and  vigorous  principles  within  our- 
selves," observed  the  major.  "  Shall  we  drink  a  bitter  afore 
dinner,  colonel  1  " 

The  colonel  assenting  to  this  proposal  with  great  alacrity. 
Major  Pawkins  proposed  an  adjournment  to  a  neighboring 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


275 


bar-room,  which,  as  he  observed,  was  "  only  in  the  next 
block."  He  then  referred  Martin  to  Mrs.  Pawkins  for  all 
particulars  connected  with  the  rate  of  board  and  lodging,  and 
informed  him  that  he  would  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that 
lady  at  dinner,  which  would  soon  be  ready,  as  the  dinner  hour 
was  two  o'clock,  and  it  only  wanted  a  quarter  now.  This  re- 
minded him  that  if  the  bitter  were  to  be  taken  at  all,  there 
was  no  time  to  lose  ;  so  he  walked  off  without  more  ado,  and 
left  them  to  follow  if  they  thought  proper. 

When  the  major  rose  from  his  rocking-chair  before  the 
stove  and  so  disturbed  the  hot  air  and  balmy  whiff  of  soup 
which  fanned  their  brows,  the  odor  of  stale  tobacco  became 
so  decidedly  prevalent  as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  its  proceeding 
mainly  from  tliat  gentleman's  attire.  Indeed,  as  Martin 
walked  behind  him  to  the  bar-room,  he  could  not  help  think- 
ing that  the  great  square  major,  in  his  listlessness  and  languor, 
looked  very  much  like  a  stale  weed  himself :  such  as  might 
be  hoed  out  of  the  public  garden,  with  great  advantage  to  the 
decent  growth  of  that  preserve,  and  tossed  on  some  congenial 
dung-hill. 

They  encountered  more  weeds  in  the  bar-room,  soine  of 
whom  (being  thirsty  souls  as  w'ell  as  dirty)  were  pretty  stale 
in  one  sense,  and  pretty  fresh  in  another.  Among  them  was 
a  gentleman  who,  as  Martin  gathered  from  the  conversation 
that  took  place  over  the  bitter,  started  that  afternoon  for  the 
Far  West  on  a  six  months'  business  tour  ;  and  who,  as  his 
outfit  and  equipment  for  this  journev,  had  just  such  another 
shiny  hat  and  just  such  another  little  pale  valise,  as  had  com- 
posed the  luggage  of  the  gentleman  who  came  from  England 
in  the  Screw. 

They  were  walking  back  veiy  leisurely,  Martin  arm-in-arm 
with  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  and  the  major  and  the  colonel  side, 
by  side  before  them,  when,  as  they  came  within  a  house  or 
two  of  the  major's  residence,  they  heard  a  bell  ringing  vio- 
lently. The  instant  this  sound  struck  upon  their  ears,  the 
colonel  and  the  major  darted  off,  dashed  up  the  steps  and  in 
at  the  street-door  (which  stood  ajar)  like  lunatics  ;  while  Mr. 
Jefferson  Brick,  detaching  his  arm  from  Martin's,  made  a  pre- 
cipitate dive  in  the  same  direction,  and  vanished  also. 

"Good  Heaven!"  thought  Martin.  "The  premises  are 
on  fire  !     It  was  an  alarm-bell !  " 

But  there  was  no  smoke  to  be  seen,  nor  any  i1amc.  nor 
was  there  any  smell  of  fire.     As  Martin  faltered  on  the  pave- 


276  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

ment,  three  more  gentlemen,  with  horror  and  agitation  de^ 
picted  in  their  faces,  came  plunging  wildly  round  the  street 
corner ;  jostled  each  other  on  the  steps  ;  struggled  for  an 
instant  ;  and  rushed  into  the  house,  in  a  confused  heap  of 
arms  and  legs.  Unable  to  bear  it  an)^  longer,  Martin  fol- 
lowed. Even  in  his  rapid  progress,  he  was  run  down,  thrust 
aside,  and  passed,  by  two  more  gentlemen,  stark  mad,  as  it 
appeared,  with  fierce  excitement. 

"  Where  is  it .-'  "  cried  Martin,  breathlessly,  to  a  negro 
whom  he  encountered  in  the  passage. 

"  In  a  eatin  room,  sa.  'Kernell,  sa,  him  kep  a  seat  'side 
himself,  sa." 

"  A  seat !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  For  a  dinnar,  sa.'' 

Martin  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  burst  into  a 
hearty  laugh  ;  to  which  the  negro,  out  of  his  natural  good 
humor,  and  desire  to  please,  so  heartily  responded,  that  his 
teeth  shone  like  a  gleam  of  light.  "  You're  the  pleasantest 
fellow  I  have  seen  yet,"  said  Martin,  clapping  him  on  the 
back,  "and  give  me  a  better  appetite  than  bitters." 

With  this  sentiment  he  walked  into  the  dining-room  and 
slipped  into  a  chair  next  the  colonel,  which  that  gentleman 
(by  this  time  nearly  through  his  dinner)  had  turned  down  in 
reserve  for  him,  with  its  back  against  the  table. 

It  was  a  numerous  company,  eighteen  or  twenty  perhaps. 
Of  these  some  fi\e  or  six  were  ladies,  who  sat  wedged  to- 
gether in  a  little  phalanx  by  themselves.  All  the  knives  and 
forks  were  working  away  at  a  rate  that  was  quite  alarming ; 
very  few  words  were  spoken  ;  and  everybody  seemed  to  eat 
his  utmost  in  self-defence,  as  if  a  famine  were  expected  to  set 
in  before  breakfast  time  to-morrow  morning,  and  it  had 
become  high  time  to  assert  the  first  law  of  nature.  The 
poultry,  which  may  perhaps  be  considered  to  have  formed  the 
staple  of  the  entertainment — for  there  was  a  turkey  at  the 
top,  a  pair  of  ducks  at  the  bottom,  and  two  fowls  in  the 
middle — disappeared  as  rapidly  as  if  every  bird  had  had  the 
use  of  its  wings,  and  had  flown  in  desperation  down  a  human 
throat;  The  oysters,  stewed  and  pickled,  leaped  from  their 
capacious  reservoirs,  and  slid  by  scores  into  the  mouths  of 
the  assembl}'.  The  sharpest  pickles  vanished,  whole  cucum- 
bers a  once,  like  sugar-plums,  and  no  man  winked  his  eye. 
Great  heaps  of  indigestible  matter  melted  away  as  ice  before 
the  sun.     It  was  a   solemn  and  an  awful  thins:  to  see.     Dvs- 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  277 

peptic  individuals  bolted  their  food  in  wedges  ;  feeding  not 
themselves,  but  broods  of  nightmares,  who  were  continually 
standing  at  livery  within  them.  Spare  men,  with  lank  and 
rigid  cheeks,  came  out  unsatisfied  from  the  destruction  of 
heavy  dishes,  and  glared  with  watchful  eyes  upon  the  pastry. 
What  Mrs.  Pawkins  felt  each  day  at  dinner-time  is  hidden 
from  all  human  knowledge.  But  she  had  one  comfort.  It 
was  very  soon  o\er. 

When  the  colonel  had  finished  his  dinner,  which  event 
took  place  while  Martin,  who  had  sent  his  plate  for  some 
turkey,  was  waiting  to  begin,  he  asked  him  what  he  thought 
of  the  boarders,  who  were  from  all  parts  of  the  Union,  and 
whether  he  would  like  to  know  any  particulars  concerning 
them.  .r- 

"  Pray,"  said  Martin,  '"who  was  that  sickly  little  girl  op- 
posite, with  the  tight  round  eyes  ?     I  don't  see  anybody  here, 
who  looks  like  her  mother,  or  who  seems  to  have  charge  of' 
her." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  matron  in  blue,  sir  ?  "  asked  the 
colonel,  with  emphasis.  "That  is  Mrs.  Jefferson  Prick, 
sir." 

"No,  no,"  said  Martin,  "  I  mean  the  little  girl,  like  a  doll ; 
directly  opposite." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  cried  the  colonel.  "  TJiat  is  Mrs.  Jefferson 
Brick." 

Martin  glanced  at  the  colonel's  face,  but  he  was  quite 
serious. 

"  Bless  my  soul  .'  I  suppose  there  will  be  a  young  J]rick 
then,  one  of  these  days  "i "  said  Martin. 

"  There  are  two  young  Bricks  already,  sir,"  returned  the 
colonel. 

The  matron  looked  so  uncommonly  like  a  child  herself, 
that  Martin  could  not  help  saying  as  much.  "Yes,  sir,"  re- 
turned the  colonel,  "but  some  institutions  develop  Jiuman 
natur  :  others  re — tard  it." 

"Jefferson  Brick,"  he  observed  after  a  short  silence,  in 
commendation  of  his  correspondent,  "  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  in  our  country,  sir  !  " 

This  had  passed  almost  in  a  whisper,  for  the  distinguished 
gentleman  alluded  to,  sat  on  Martin's  other  hand. 

■  "Pray^  \ix.  Brick,"  said  Martin  turning  to  him,  and  ask- 
ing a  question  more  for  conversation's  sake  than  from  any 
feeling   of   interest   in   its  subject,  "who   is   that" — he  was 


278         '  MARTIN  CHUZZLF.WIT. 

going  to  say  "  young  "  but  thought  it  prudent  to  eschew  the 
word  —  "that  very  short  gentleman  yonder,  with  the  red 
nose  ?  " 

"That  is  Pro — fessor  MulUt,  sir,"  replied  Jefferson. 

"  May  I  ask  what  he  is  Professor  of  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Of  education,  sir,"  said  Jefferson  Brick. 

"  A  sort  of  schoolmaster,  possibly  'i "  Martin  ventured  to 
observe. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  fine  moral  elements,  sir,  and  not  com- 
monly endowed,"  said  the  war  correspondent.  "  He  felt  it 
necessary,  at  the  last  election  for  President,  to  repudiate  and 
denounce  his  father,  who  voted  on  the  wrong  interest.  He 
has  since  written  some  powerful  pamphlets,  under  the  signa- 
ture of  '  Suturb,'  or  Brutus  reversed.  He  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  men  in  our  countiy,  sir." 

"There  seem  to  be  plenty  of  'em,"  thought  Martin,  "at 
'any  rate." 

Pursuing  his  inquiries,  Martin  found  that  there  were  no 
fewer  than  four  majors  present,  two  colonels,  one  general, 
and  a  captain,  so  that  he  could  not  help  thinking  how  strongly 
officered  the  American  militia  must  be  ;  and  wondering  very 
much  whether  the  officers  commanded  each  other  ;  or  if 
they  did  not,  where  on  earth  the  pri\'ates  came  from.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  man  there  without  a  title  ;  for  those  who 
liad  not  attained  to  military  honors  were  either  doctors,  pro- 
fessors, or  reverends.  Three  very  hard  and  disagreeable 
gentlemen  were  on  missions  from  neighboring  States  ;  one  on 
monetary  affairs,  one  on  political,  one  on  sectarian.  Among 
the  ladies,  there  were  Mrs.  Pawkins,  who  was  very  straight, 
bony,  and  silent ;  and  a  wiry-faced  old  ^amsel,  who  held 
strong  sentiments  touching  the  rights  of  women,  and  had 
diffused  the  same  in  lectures  ;  but  the  rest  were  strangely 
devoid  of  individual  traits  of  character,  insomuch  that  any 
one  of  them  night  have  changed  minds  with  the  other,  and 
nobody  would  have  found  it  out.  These,  by  the  way,  were 
the  only  members  of  the  party  who  did  not  appear  to  be 
among  the  most  remarkable  people  in  the  countr)^ 

Several  of  the  gentlemen  got  up,  one  by  one,  and  walked 
off  as  they  swallowed  their  last  morsel ;  pausing  generally  by 
the  stove  for  a  minute  or  so  to  refresh  themselves  at  the  brass 
spittoons.  A  few  sedentary  characters,  however,  remamed  at 
table  full  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  did  not  rise  until  the 
ladies  rose,  when  all  stood  up. 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  279 

"  Where  are  they  going  ?  "  asked  Martin,  in  the  ear  of 
Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 

"  To  their  bed-rooms,  sir." 

"  Is  there  no  dessert,  or  other  interval  of  conversation  ?  " 
asked  Martin,  who  was  disposed  to  enjoy  himself  after  his 
long  voyage. 

"  We  are  a  busy  people  here,  sir,  and  have  no  time  for 
that,"  was  the  reply. 

So  the  ladies  passed  out  in  single  file  ;  Mr.  JeiTerson  Brick 
and  such  other  married  gentlemen  as  were  left,  acknowledging 
the  departure  of  their  other  halves  by  a  nod  ;  and  there  was 
an  end  of  thejii.  Martin  thought  this  an  uncomfortable  cus- 
tom, but  he  kept  his  opinion  to  liimself  for  the  present,  being 
anxious  to  hear;  and  inform  himself,  by  the  conversation  of 
the  busy  gentlemen,  who  now  lounged  about  the  stove  as  if  a 
great  weight  had  been  taken  off  their  minds  by  the  withdrawal 
of  the  other  sex  ;  and  who  made  a  plentiful  use  of  the  spit- 
toons and  their  toothpicks.  v. 

It  was  rather  barren  of  interest,  to  say  the  truth  ;  and  theS 
greater  part  of  it  may  be  summed  up  in  one  word.  Dollars. 
All  their  cares,  hopes,  joys,  affections,  virtues,  and  associa- 
tions, seemed  to  be  melted  down  into  dollars.  Whatever  the 
chance  contributions  that  fell  into  the  slow  cauldron  of  their 
talk,  they  made  the  gruel  thick  and  slab  with  dollars.  Men 
were  weighed  by  their  dollars,  measures  gauged  by  their  dol- 
lars ;  life  was  auctioneered,  appraised,  put  up,  and  knocked 
down  for  its  dollars.  The  next  respectable  thing  to  dollars 
was  any  venture  having  their  attainment  for  its  end.  The 
more  of  that  worthless  ballast,  honor  and  fair  dealing,  which 
any  man  cast  overboard  from  the  ship  of  his  Good  Name  and 
Good  Intent,  the  more  ample  stowage-room  he  had  for  dollars. 
Make  commerce  one  huge  lie  and  mighty  theft.  Deface  the 
banner  of  the  nation  for  an  idle  rag  ;  pollute  it  star  by  star  ; 
and  cut  out  stripe  by  stripe  as  from  the  arm  of  a  degraded 
soldier.     Do  anything  for  dollars  1     What  is  a  flag  to  ih  m  !  ^ 

One  who  rides  at  all  hazards  of  limb  and  life  in  tiie  chase 
of  a  fox,  will  prefer  to  ride  recklessly  at  most  times.  So  it  was 
with  these  gentlemen.  He  was  the  greatest  patriot,  in  their 
eyes,  who  brawled  the  loudest,  and  who  cared  the  least  for 
decency.  He  was  their  champion,  who  in  the  brutal  fury  of 
his  own  pursuit,  could  cast  no  stigma  upon  them,  for  the  hot 
knavery  of  theirs.  Thus,  Martin  learned  m  the  five  minutes' 
straggling  talk  about  the  stove,  that  to  carry  pistols  into  legis' 


2So  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

lative  assemblies,  and  swords  in  sticks,  and  other  such  peace- 
ful toys  ;  to  seize  opponents  by  the  throat,  as  dogs  or  rats 
might  do  ;  to  bluster,  bully,  and  overbear  by  personal  assail- 
ment  ;  were  glowing  deeds.  Not  thrusts  and  stabs  at  Freedom, 
striking  far  deeper  into  her  House  of  Life  than  any  sultan's 
scimetar  could  reach  ;  but  rare  incense  on  her  altars,  having  a 
grateful  scent  in  patriotic  nostrils,  and  curling  upward  to  the 
seventh  heaven  of  Fame. 

Once  or  twice,  when  there  was  a  pause,  Martin  asked  such 
questions  as  naturally  occurred  to  him,  being  a  stranger,  aboui 
the  national  poets,  the  theatre,  literature,  and  the  arts.  But 
the  information  which  these  gentlemen  were  in  a  condition  to 
give  him  on  such  topics,  did  not  extend  beyond  the  effusions 
of  such  master-spirits  of  the  time,  as  Colonel  Diver,  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson Brick,  and  others,  renowned,  as  it  appeared,  for  excel- 
lence in  the  achievment  of  a  peculiar  style  of  broadside-essay 
called  "  a  screamer." 

"  We  are  a  busy  people,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  captains,  who 
was  from  the  West,  "  and  have  no  time  for  reading  mere  no- 
tions. We  don't  mind  'em  if  they  come  to  us  in  newspapers 
along  with  almighty  strong  stuff  of  another  sort,  but  darn  your 
books." 

Here  the  general,  who  appeared  to  grow  quite  faint  at  the 
bare  thought  of  reading  anything  which  was  neither  mercantile 
nor  political,  and  was  not  in  a  newspaper,  inquired  "  if  any 
gentleman  would  drink  some  ?  "  Most  of  the  company,  con- 
sidering this  a  very  choice  and  seasonable  idea,  lounged  out, 
one  by  one,  to  the  bar-room  m  the  next  block.  Thence  they 
probably  went  to  their  stores  and  counting-houses  ;  thence  to 
the  bar-room  again,  to  talk  once  more  of  dollars,  and  enlarge 
their  minds  with  the  perusal  and  discussion  of  screamers  ;  and 
thence  each  man  to  snore  in  the  bosom  of  his  own  family. 

"  Which  Avould  seem,"  said  Itlartin,  pursuing  the  current 
of  his  own  thoughts,  "  to  be  the  principal  recreation  they  en 
joy  in  common."  With  that,  he  fell  a-musing  again  on  dollars, 
demagogues,  and  bar-rooms;  debating  within  himself  whether 
busy  people  of  this  class  were  really  as  busv  as  they  claimed  to 
be,  or  only  had  an  inaptitude  for  social  and  domestic  pleasure. 

It  was  a  difficult  question  to  solve  ;  and  the  mere  fact  of 
its  being  strongly  presented  to  his  mind  by  all  that  he  had 
seen  and  heard,  was  not  encouraging.  He  sat  down  at  the 
deserted  board,  and  becoming  more  and  more  despondent,  as 
he  thought  of  all  the  uncertainties  and  difficulties  of  his  pre- 
carious situation,  sighed  heavily. 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  281 

Now,  there  had  been  at  tlie  dinner-table  a  middle-aged 
man  with  a  dark  eye  and  a  sunburnt  face,  who  had  attracted 
Martin's  attention  by  having  something  very  engaging  and 
honest  in  the  expression  of  his  features  ;  but  of  whom  he  could 
learn  nothing  from  either  of  his  neighbors,  who  seemed  to 
consider  him  quite  beneath  their  notice.  He  had  taken  no 
part  in  the  conversation  round  the  sto\'e,  nor  had  he  gone 
forth  with  the  rest  ;  and  now,  when  he  heard  Martin  sigh  for 
the  third  or  fourth  time,  he  interposed  with  some  casual  re- 
mark, as  if  he  desired,  without  obtruding  himself  upon  a 
stranger's  notice,  to  engage  him  in  cheerful  conversation  if  he 
could.  His  motive  was  so  obvious,  and  yet  so  delicately  ex- 
pressed, that  Martin  felt  really  grateful  to  him,  and  showed 
him  so,  in  the  manner  of  his  reply. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you,"  said  this  gentleman  with  a  smile,  as 
he  rose  and  moved  towards  him,  "how  you  like  my  country, 
for  I  can  quite  anticipate  your  feeling  on  that  point.  But,  as 
I  am  an  American,  and  consequently  bound  to  begin  with  a 
question,  I'll  ask  you  how  you  like  the  colonel  ?  " 

"  You  are  so  very  frank,'"  returned  Martin,  "  that  I  have 
no  hesitation  \\\  saying  I  don't  like  him  at  all.  Though  I  must 
add  that  1  am  beholden  to  him  for  his  civility  in  bringing  me 
here— and  arranging  for  my  stay,  on  pretty  reasonable  terms, 
by  the  way,"  he  added — remembering  that  the  colonel  had 
whispered  him  to  that  effect,  before  going  out. 

"  Not  much  beholden,"  said  the  stranger  dryly.  "  The 
colonel  occasionally  boards  packet-ships,  I  have  heard,  to  glean 
the  latest  information  for  his  journal  ;  and  he  occasionally 
brings  strangers  to  board  here,  I  believe,  with  a  view  to  the 
little  percentage  which  attaches  to  those  good  offices  ;  and 
which  the  hostess  deducts  from  his  weekly  bill.  I  don't  offend 
you,  I  hope?  "  he  added,  seeing  that  Martin  reddened. 

"  My  dear  sir,''  returned  Martin,  as  they  shook  hands, 
"how  is  that  possible  !  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I — am — " 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  the  gentleman,  sitting  down  beside  him. 

"  I  am  rather  at  a  loss,  since  I  must  speak  plainly,"  said 
Martin,  getting  the  better  of  his  hesitation,  "  to  know  how  this 
colonel  escapes  being  beaten." 

"  Well  !  He  has  been  beaten  once  or  twice,"  remarked 
the  gentleman  quietly.  "  He  is  one  of  a  class  of  men,  in 
whom  our  own  Franklin  so  long  ago  as  ten  vears  before  the 
close  of  the  last  century,  foresaw  our  danger  and  disgrace. 
Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  Franklin,  in  very  severe  terms, 


282  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

published  his  opinion  that  those  who  were  slandered  by  such 
fellows  as  this  colonel,  having  no  sufficient  remedy  in  the 
administration  of  this  country's  laws  or  in  the  decent  and  right- 
minded  feeling  of  its  people,  were  justified  in  retorting  on  such 
public  nuisances  by  means  of  a  stout  cudgel  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  that,  said  Martin,"  "but  I  am  very 
glad  to  know  it,  and  I  think  it  worthy  of  his  memory ;  espe- 
cially " — here  he  hesitated  again. 

"  Go. on,"  said  the  other,  smiling  as  if  he  knew  what  stuck 
in  Martin's  throat. 

"  Especially,"  pursued  Martin,  "as  I  can  already  under- 
stand that  it  may  have  required  great  courage,  even  in  his 
time,  to  write  freely  on  any  question  which  was  not  a  party 
one  in  this  very  free  country." 

"  Some  courage,  no  doubt,"  returned  his  new  friend.  "  Do 
you  think  it  would  require  any  to  do  so,  now  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  think  it  would  ;  and  not  a  little,"  said  Martin. 

"  You  are  right.  So  veiy  right,  that  I  believe  no  satirist 
could  breathe  this  air.  If  another  Juvenal  or  Swift  could  rise 
up  among  us  to-morrow,  he  would  be  hunted  down.  If  you 
have  any  knowledge  of  our  literature,  and  can  give  me  the 
name  of  any  man,  American  born  and  bred,  who  has  anato- 
mized our  follies  as  a  people,  and  not  as  this  or  that  party  ; 
and  who  has  escaped  the  foulest  and  most  brutal  slander,  the 
most  inveterate  hatred  and  intolerant  pursuit ;  it  will  be  a 
strange  name  in  my  ears,  believe  me.  In  some  cases  I  could 
name  to  vou,  where  a  native  writer  has  ventured  on  the  most 
harmless  and  good-humored  illustrations  of  our  vices  or  defects, 
it  has  been  found  necessary  to  announce,  that  in  a  second 
edition  the  passage  has  been  expunged,  or  altered,  or  explained 
away,  or  patched  into  praise." 

"  And  how  has  this  been  brought  about .-'  "  asked  Martin 
in  dismay. 

"  Think  of  what  you  have  seen  and  heard  to-day,  beginning 
with  the  colonel,"  said  his  friend,  "and  ask  yourself.  How 
they  came  about,  is  another  question.  Heaven  forbid  that 
they  should  be  samples  of  the  intelligence  and  virtue  of 
America,  but  they  come  uppermost,  and  in  great  numbers,  and 
too  often  represent  it.     Will  you  walk  .-' " 

There  was  a  cordial  candor  in  his  manner,  and  an  engaging 
confidence  that  it  would  not  be  abused  ;  a  manly  bearing  on 
his  own  part,  and  a  simple  reliance  on  the  manly  faith  of  a 
stranger,  which  Martin  had  never   seen  before.     He  linked 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  283 

his  arm  readily  in  that  of  the   American  gentleman,  and  they 
walked  out  together. 

It  was  perhaps  to  men  like  this,  his  new  companion,  that  a 
traveller  of  honored  name,  who  trod  those  shores  now  nearly 
forty  years  ago,  and  woke  upon  that  soil,  as  many  have  done 
since,  to  blots  and  stains  upon  its  high  pretensions,  which  in 
the  brightness  of  his  distant  dreams  were  lost  to  view,  appealed 
in  these  words  : 

"  oil  but  for  such,  Columbia's  days  were  done  ; 
Rank  without  ripeness,  quickened  without  sun, 
Crude  at  the  surface,  rotten  at  the  core. 
Her  fruits  would  fall  before  her  spring  were  o'er !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MARTIN  ENLARGES  HIS  CIRCLE  OF  ACQUAINTANCE  ;  INCREASES 
HIS  STOCK  OF  WISDOM  ;  AND  HAS  AN  EXCELLENT  OPPOR- 
TUNITY OF  COMPARING  HIS  OWN  EXPERIENCES  WITH  THOSE 
OF  LUMMY  NED  OF  THE  LIGHT  SALISBURY,  AS  RELATED  BY 
HIS  FRIEND  MR.   WILLIAM  SIMMONS. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Martin,  that  all  this  while  he  had 
either  forgotten  Mark  Tapley  as  completely  as  if  there  had 
been  no  such  person  in  existence,  or,  if  for  a  moment  the 
figure  of  that  gentleman  rose  before  his  mental  vision,  had 
dismissed  it  as  something  by  no  means  of  a  pressing  nature, 
which  might  be  attended  to  by  and  by,  and  could  wait  his  per- 
fect leisure.  But,  being  now  in  the  streets  again,  it  occurred 
to  him  as  just  coming  within  the  bare  limits  of  possibility  that 
Mr.  Tapley  might,  in  course  of  time,  grow  tired  of  waiting  on 
the  threshold  of  the  Rowdy  Journal  Office,  so  he  intimated  to 
his  new  friend,  that  if  they  could  conveniently  walk  in  that 
direction,  he  would  be  glad  to  get  this  piece  of  business  off 
his  mind. 

"  And  speaking  of  business,"  said  Martin,  "  may  I  ask,  in 
order  that  1  may  not  be  behind-hand  with  questions  either, 
whether  your  occupation  holds  you  to  this  city,  or  like  myself, 
you  are  a  visitor  here  ?  " 

"A  visitor,"  replied  his  friend.  "I  w-as  'raised'  in  the 
State  of  Massachusetts,  and  reside  there  still.     My  home  is 


284 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


in  a  quiet  country  town.  I  am  not  often  in  these  busy  places  ; 
and  my  inclination  to  visit  them  does  not  increase  with  oul 
better  acquaintance,  1  assure  you." 

"  You  have  been  abroad }  "   asked  Martin. 

"  Oh  yes." 

"And,  like  most  people  who  travel,  have  become  more 
than  ever  attached  to  your  home  and  native  country,"  said 
Martin,  eyeing  him  curiously. 

''To  my  home,  yes,"  rejoined  his  friend.  "To  my  native 
country  as  my  home — 3es,  also." 

"  You  imply  some  reservation,"  said  Martin. 

"  Well,"  returned  his  new  friend,  "  if  you  ask  me  whether 
I  came  back  here  with  a  greater  relish  for  my  country's  faults  ; 
with  a  greater  fondness  for  those  who  claim  (at  the  rate  of  so 
many  dollars  a  day)  to  be  her  friends  ;  with  a  cooler  indiffer- 
ence to  the  growth  of  principles  among  us  in  respect  of  public 
matters  and  of  private  dealings  between  man  and  man,  the 
advocacy  of  which,  beyond  the  foul  atmosphere  of  a  criminal 
trial,  would  disgrace  your  own  Old  Bailey  lawyers  ;  why,  then 
I  answer  plainly.  No." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Martin  ;  in  so  exactly  the  same  key  as  his 
friend's  No,  that  it  sounded  like  an  echo. 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  his  companion  pursued,  "  whether  I 
came  back  here  better  satisfied  with  a  state  of  things  which 
broadly  divides  society  into  two  classes — whereof  one,  the 
great  mass,  asserts  a  spurious  independence,  most  miserably 
dependent  for  its  mean  existence  on  the  disregard  of  human- 
izing conventionalities  of  manner  and  social  custom,  so  that 
the  coarser  a  man  is,  the  more  distinctly  it  shall  appeal  to  his 
taste  ;  while  the  other,  disgusted  with  the  low  standard  thus 
set  up  and  made  adaptable  to  eveiything,  takes  refuge  among 
the  graces  and  refinements  it  can  bring  to  bear  on  private  life, 
and  leaves  the  public  weal  to  such  fortune  as  may  betide  it  in 
the  press  and  uproar  of  a  general  scramble — then  again  I 
answer.  No." 

And  again  Martin  said  "  Oh  ! "  in  the  same  odcJ  way  as 
before,  being  anxious  and  disconcerted  ;  not  so  much,  to  say 
the  truth,  on  public  grounds,  as  with  reference  to  the  fading 
prospects  of  domestic  architecture. 

"  In  a  word,"  resumed  the  other,  "  I  do  not  find  and  cannot 
believe,  and  therefore  will  not  allow,  that  we  are  a  model  of 
wisdom,  and  an  example  to  the  world,  and  the  perfection  of 
human  reason,  and  a  great  deal  more  to  the  same  purpose, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


2S5 


which  you  may  hear  any  hour  in  the  day  ;  simply  because  we 
began  our  pohtical  Ufe  with  two  inestimable  advantages." 

"  What  were  they  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  One,  that  our  history  commenced  at  so  late  a  period  as 
to  escape  the  ages  of  bloodshed  and  cruelty  through  which 
other  nations  have  passed  ;  and  so  had  all  the  light  of  their 
probation,  and  none  of  its  darkness.  The  other,  that  we  have 
a  vast  territory,  and  not — as  yet — too  many  people  on  it. 
These  facts  considered,  we  have  done  little  enough,  i  think." 

"  Education  }  "  suggested  Martin,  faintly 

"  Pretty  well  on  that  head,"  said  the  other,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  "  still  no  mighty  matter  to  boast  of ;  for  old  coun- 
tries, and  despotic  countries  too,  have  done  as  much,  if  not 
more,  and  made  -less  noise  about  it.  We  shine  out  brightly  in 
comparison  with  England,  certainly  ;  but  hers  is  a  very  extreme 
case.  You  complimented  me  on  my  frankness,  you  know,"  he 
added,  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  not  at  all  astonished  at  your  speaking  thus 
openly  when  my  country  is  in  question,"  returned  Martin.  "  It 
is  your  plain-speakmg  in  reference  to  your  own  that  surprises 


me." 


"  You  will  not  find  it  a  scarce  quality  here,  I  assure  you, 
saving  among  the  Colonel  Divers,  anrl  Jefferson  J  hicks,  and 
Major  Pawkinses  ;  though  the  best  of  us  are  something  like 
the  man  in  Goldsmith's  comedy,  who  wouldn't  suffer  anybody 
but  himself  to  abuse  his  master.  Come  !  "  he  added.  "  Let 
us  talk  of  something  else.  You  have  come  here  on  some  de- 
sign of  improving  your  fortune,  I  dare  say ,  and  I  should 
grieve  to  put  you  out  of  heart.  I  am  some  years  older  than 
you,  besides  ;  and  may,  on  a  few  trivial  points,  advise  you, 
perhaps." 

There  was  not  the  least  curiosity  or  impertinence  in  the 
manner  of  this  offer,  which  was  open-hearted,  unaffected,  and 
good-natured.  As  it  was  next  to  impossible  that  he  should 
not  have  his  confidence  awakened  by  a  deportment  so  pre- 
possessing and  kind,  Martin  plainly  stated  what  had  brought 
him  into  those  parts,  and  even  made  the  very  difficult  avowal 
that  he  was  poor.  He  did  not  say  how  poor,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, rather  throwing  oft"  the  declaration  with  an  air  which 
might  have  implied  that  he  had  money  enough  for  six  months, 
instead  of  as  many  weeks  ;  but  poor  he  said  he  was,  and 
grateful  he  said  he  would  be,  for  any  counsel  that  his  friend 
would  give  him. 


286  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

It  would  not  have  been  ver}'  difficult  for  any  one  to  see, 
but  it  was  particularly  easy  for  Martin,  whose  perceptions 
were  sharpened  by  his  circumstances,  to  discern,  that  the 
stranger's  face  grew  infinitely  longer  as  the  domestic-archi- 
tecture project  was  developed.  Nor,  although  he  made  a  great 
effort  to  be  as  encouraging  as  possible,  could  he  prevent  his 
head  from  shaking  once  involuntarily,  as  if  it  said  in  the  vulgar 
tongue,  upon  its  own  account,  "  No  go  !  "  But  he  spoke  in  a 
cheerful  tone,  and  said,  that  although  there  was  no  such  open- 
ing as  Martin  wished,  in  that  city,  he  would  make  it  matter  of 
immediate  consideration  and  inquiry  where  one  was  most 
likely  to  exist ;  and  then  he  made  Martin  acquainted  with  his 
name,  which  was  Bevan  ;  and  with  his  profession,  which  was 
physic,  though  he  seldom  or  never  practised,  and  with  other 
circumstances  connected  with  himself  and  family,  which  fully 
occupied  the  time,  until  they  reached  the  Rowdy  Journal 
Office. 

Mr.  Tapley  appeared  to  be  taking  his  ease  on  the  landing 
of  the  first  floor  ;  for  sounds  as  of  some  gentleman  established 
in  that  region,  whistling  "  Rule  Britannia  "  with  all  his  might 
and  main,  greeted  their  ears  before  they  reached  the  house. 
On  ascending  to  the  spot  from  whence  this  music  proceeded, 
they  found  him  recumbent  in  the  midst  of  a  fortification  of 
luggage,  apparently  performing  his  national  anthem  for  the 
gratification  of  a  gray-haired  black  man,  who  sat  on  one  of  the 
outworks  (a  portmanteau),  staring  intently  at  Mark,  while 
Mark,  with  his  head  reclining  on  his  hand,  returned  the  com- 
pliment in  a  thoughtful  manner,  and  whistled  all  the  time. 
He  seemed  to  have  recently  dined,  for  his  knife,  a  case-bottle, 
and  certain  broken  meats  in  a  handkerchief,  lay  near  at  hand. 
He  had  employed  a  portion  of  his  leisure  in  the  decoration  of 
the  Rowdy  Journal  door,  whereon  his  own  initials  now  ap- 
peared in  letters  nearly  half  afoot  long,  together  with  the  day 
of  the  month  in  smaller  type,  the  whole  surrounded  by  an 
ornamental  border,  and  looking  very  fresh  and  bold. 

"  I  was  a'most  afraid  you  was  lost,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark,  rising, 
and  stopping  the  tune  at  that  point  where  Britons  generally 
are  supposed  to  declare  (when  it  is  whistled)  that  they  never, 
never,  never. 

"  Nothing  gone  wrong,  I  hope,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  Mark.     Where's  your  friend  ?  " 

"  The  mad  woman,  sir  'i  "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Oh  !  she's 
all  right,  sir," 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE IVIT.  287 

"  Did  she  find  her  husband  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Least  ways  she's  found  his  remains,"  said 
Mark,  correcting  himself. 

"  The  man's  not  dead,  I  hope  ? "' 

"Not  altogether  dead,  sir,"  returned  Mark  ;  "but  he's  had 
more  fevers  and  agues  than  is  quite  reconcilable  with  being 
alive.  When  she  didn't  see  him  a  waiting  for  her,  I  thought 
she'd  have  died  herself,  I  did  !  " 

"  Was  he  not  here,  then  .''  " 

"  He  wasn't  here.  There  was  a  feeble  old  shadow  come 
a-creeping  down  at  last,  as  much  like  his  substance  when  she 
know'd  him,  as  your  shadow  when  it's  drawn  out  to  its  very 
finest  and  longest  by  the  sun,  is  like  you.  But  it  was  his  re- 
mains, there's  no  doul)t  about  that.  She  took  on  with  joy, 
poor  thing,  as  much  as  if  it  had  been  all  of  him  ! " 

"  Had  he  bought  land  .^  "  asked  Mr.  Bevan. 

"Ah  !  He'd  bought  land,"  said  Mark,  shaking  his  head, 
"  and  paid  for  it  too.  Every  sort  of  nateral  advantage  was 
connected  with  it,  the  agents  said  ;  and  there  certainly  was 
one,  quite  unlimited.     No  end  to  the  water  !  " 

"  It's  a  thing  he  couldn't  have  done  without,  I  suppose," 
observed  Martin,  peevishly. 

"  Certainly  not,  sir.  There  it  was,  any  way  ;  always  turned 
on,  and  no  water-rate.  Independent  of  three  or  four  slimy  old 
rivers  close  by,  it  varied  on  the  farm  from  four  to  six  foot 
deep  in  the  dry  season.  He  couldn't  say  how  deep  it  was  in 
the  rainy  time,  for  he  ne\-er  had  anything  long  enough  to 
sound  it  with." 

"  Is  this  true?  "  asked  Martin  of  his  companion. 

"  E.xtremely  probable,"  he  answered.  "  Some  Mississippi 
or  Missouri  lot,  I  dare  say." 

"  However,"  pursued  Mark,  "  he  came  from  I-don't-know- 
where-and-all,  down  to  New  York  here,  to  meet  his  wife  and 
children ;  and  they  started  off  again  in  a  steam-boat  this 
blessed  afternoon,  as  happy  to  be  along  with  each  other,  as  if 
they  were  going  to  Heaven.  I  should  think  they  was,  pretty 
straight,  if  I  may  judge  from  the  poor  man's  looks." 

"  And  may  I  ask,"  said  Martin,  glancing,  but  not  with  any 
displeasure,  from  Mark  to  the  negro,  "  who  this  gentleman  is  .'' 
Another  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"Why,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  taking  him  aside,  and  speak- 
ing confidentially  in  his  ear,  "  he's  a  man  of  color,  sir  ? " 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  blind  man,"   asked  Martin,  some* 


288  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

what  impatiently,  "  that  you  think  it  necessary  to  tell  me 
that,  when  his  face  is  the  blackest  that  ever  was  seen  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  when  I  say  a  man  of  color,"  returned  Mark,  "  I 
mean  that  he's  been  one  of  them  as  there's  picters  of  in  the 
shops.  A  man  and  a  brother,  you  know,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  favoring  his  master  with  a  significant  indication  of  the 
figure  so  often  represented  in  tracts  and  cheap  prints. 

"  A  slave  !  "  cried  Martin,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mark  in  the  same  tone.  "  Nothing  else.  A 
slave.  Why,  when  that  there  man  was  young — don't  look  at 
him,  while  I'm  a  telling  it — he  was  shot  in  the  leg  ;  gashed  in 
the  arm  ;  scored  in  his  live  limbs,  like  crimped  fish  ;  beaten 
out  of  shape  ;  had  his  neck  galled  with  an  iron  collar,  and 
wore  iron  rings  upon  his  wrists  and  ankles.  The  marks  arc 
on  him  to  this  day.  When  I  was  having  my  dinner  just  now, 
he  stripped  off  his  coat,  and  took  away  my  appetite." 

"  Is  this  true  ? "  asked  Martin  of  his  friend,  who  stood 
beside  them. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  it,"  he  answered,  shaking  his 
head.     "  It  very  often  is." 

"  Bless  you,"  said  Mark,  "  I  know  it  is,  from  hearing  his 
whole  story.  That  master  died  ;  so  did  his  second  master 
from  having  his  head  cut  open  with  a  hatchet  by  another 
slave,  who,  when  he'd  done  it,  went  and  drowned  himself  : 
then  he  got  a  better  one.  In  years  and  years  he  saved  up  a 
little  money,  and  bought  his  freedom,  which  he  got  pretty 
cheap  at  last,  on  account  of  his  strength  being  nearly  gone, 
and  he  being  ill.  Then  he  come  here.  And  now  he's  a  saving 
up  to  treat  himself,  afore  he  dies,  to  one  small  purchase  ; 
it's  nothing  to  speak  of  ;  only  his  own  daughter ;  that's  all  ! " 
cried  Mr.  Tapley,  becoming  excited.  "  Liberty  for  ever ! 
Hurrah  !     Hail,  Columbia  !  " 

"  Hush  ! "  cried  Martin,  clapping  his  hand  upon  his 
mouth,   "  and  don't  be  an  idiot.     What  is  he  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Waiting  to  take  our  luggage  off  upon  a  truck,"  said 
Mark.  "  He'd  have  come  for  it  by  and  by,  but  I  engaged 
him  for  a  very  reasonable  charge  (out  of  my  own  pocket)  to 
sit  along  with  me  and  make  me  jolly ;  and  1  a77i  jolly  ;  and  if 
I  was  rich  enough  to  contract  with  him  to  wait  upon  me  once 
a  day,  to  be  looked  at,  I'd  never  be  anything  else." 

The  fact  may  cause  a  solemn  impeachment  of  Mark's 
veracity,  but  it  must  be  admittetl  nevertheless,  that  there  was 
that  in  his  face  and  manner  at  the  moment,  which  militated 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  289 

Strongly  against  this  emphatic  declaration  of  his  state  of 
mind. 

'-  Lord  love  you,  sir,"  he  added,  "  they're  so  fond  of 
Liberty  in  this  part  of  the  globe,  that  they  buy  her  and  sell 
her  and  carry  her  to  market  with  'em.  They've  such  a  passion 
for  Liberty,  that  they  can't  help  taking  liberties  with  her. 
That  s  what  it's  owing  to." 

"  Very  well,'  said  Martin,  wishing  to  change  the  theme. 
''  Having  come  to  that  conclusion,  Mark,  perhaps  you'll  at- 
tend to  me.  The  place  to  which  the  luggage  is  to  go,  is 
printed  on  this  card      Mrs.  Pawkins's  Boarding  House." 

"  Mrs.  Pawkins's  boarding  house,"  repeated  Mark.  "  Now, 
Cicero.' 

"  Is  that  his  name  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"That's  his  name,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.  And  the  negro 
grinning  assent  from  under  a  leathern  portmanteau,  than 
which  his  own  face  was  many  shades  deeper,  hobbled  down 
stairs  with  his  portion  of  their  worldly  goods  :  Mark  Tapley 
having  already  gone  before  with  his  share. 

Martin  and  his  friend  followed  them  to  the  door  below, 
and  were  about  to  pursue  their  walk,  when  the  latter  stopped, 
and  asked,  with  some  hesitation,  whether  that  young  man 
was  to  be  trusted  .'' 

"  Mark  !      Oh  certainly  !  with  anything." 

"  You  don't  understand  me.  1  think  he  had  better  go 
with  us.  He  is  an  honest  fellow,  and  speaks  his  mind  so  very 
plainly." 

"Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  .Martin,  smiling,  "that  being 
unaccustomed  to  a  free  republic,  he  is  used  to  do  so." 

"  I  think  he  had  better  go  with  us,"  returned  the  other. 
"  He  may  get  into  some  trouble  otherwise.  This  is  not  a 
slave  State  ;  but  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  a  spirit  of  Toler- 
ance is  not  so  common  anywhere  in  these  latitudes  as  the 
form.  We  are  not  remarkable  for  behaving  very  temperately 
to  each  other  when  we  differ ;  but  to  strangers  ! — No,  I  really 
think  he  had  better  go  with  us." 

Martin  called  to  him  immediately  to  be  of  their  party ;  so 
Cicero  and  the  truck  went  one  way,  and  they  three  went 
another. 

They  walked  about  the  city  for  two  or  three  hours  ;  seeing 
it  from  the  best  points  of  view,  and  pausing  in  the  principal 
streets,  and  before  such  public  buildings  as  Mr.  Bevan  pointed 
out.     Night  then  coming  on  apace,  Martin  proposed  that  they 

19 


290  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

should  adjourn  to  Mrs.  Pawkins's  establishment  for  coffee  ; 
but  in  this  he  was  overruled  by  his  new  acquaintance,  who 
seemed  to  have  set  his  heart  on  carrying  him,  though  it  were 
only  for  an  hour,  to  the  house  of  a  friend  of  his  who  lived 
hard  by.  Feeling  (however  disinclined  he  was,  being  weary) 
that  it  would  be  in  bad  taste,  and  not  very  gracious,  to  object 
that  he  was  unintroduced,  when  this  open-hearted  gentleman 
was  so  ready  to  be  his  sponsor,  Martin — for  once  in  his  life, 
at  all  events — sacrificed  his  own  will  and  pleasure  to  the 
wishes  of  another,  and  consented  with  a  fair  grace.  So,  trav- 
velling  had  done  him  that  much  good,  already. 

Mr.  Bevan  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  very  neat  house  of 
moderate  size,  from  the  parlor  windows  of  which,  lights  were 
shining  brightly  into  the  now  dark  street.  It  was  quickly 
opened  by  a  man  with  such  a  thoroughly  Irish  face,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  he  ought,  asi  a  matter  of  right  and  principle,  to 
be  in  rags,  and  could  have  no  sort  of  business  to  be  looking 
cheerfully  at  anybody  out  of  a  whole  suit  of  clothes. 

Commending  Mark  to  the  care  of  this  phenomenon,  for 
such  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  in  Martin's  eyes,  Mr.  Bevan 
led  the  way  into  the  room  which  had  shed  its  cheerfulness 
upon  the  street,  to  whose  occupants  he  introduced  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  as  a  gentleman  from  England,  whose  acquaintance  he 
had  recently  had  the  pleasure  to  make.  They  gave  him 
welcome  in  all  courtesy  and  politeness ;  and  in  less  than  five 
minutes'  time  he  found  himself  sitting  very  much  at  his  ease, 
by  the  fireside,  and  becommg  vastly  well  acquamted  with  the 
whole  family. 

There  were  two  young  ladies — one  eighteen,  the  other 
twenty — both  very  slender,  but  very  pretty  ;  their  mother, 
who  looked,  as  Martin  thought,  much  older  and  more  faded 
than  she  ought  to  have  looked  ;  and"  their  grandmother,  a 
little  sharp-eyed,  quick  old  woman,  who  seemed  to  have  got 
past  that  stage,  and  to  have  come  all  right  again.  Besides 
these,  there  were  the  young  ladies'  father,  and  the  young 
ladies'  brother  ;  the  first  engaged  in  mercantile  affairs  ;  the 
second,  a  student  at  college  ;  both,  in  a  certain  cordiality  of 
manner,  like  his  own  friend,  and  not  unlike  him  in  face. 
Which  was  no  great  wonder,  for  it  soon  appeared  that  he  was 
their  near  relation.  Martin  could  not  help  tracing  the  family 
•  pedigree  from  the  two  young  ladies,  because  they  were  fore- 
most in  his  thoughts  ;  not  only  from  being,  as  aforesaid,  very 
pretty,  but  by  reason  of  their  wearing  miraculously  small  shoes, 


MARTIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 


291 


and  the  thinnest  possible  silk  stockings,  the  which  their  rock- 
ing-chairs developed  to  a  distracting  extent, 

There  is  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  monstrous  comfortable 
circumstance  to  be  sitting  in  a  snug,  well-furnished  room, 
warmed  by  a  cheerful  fire,  and  full  of  various  pleasant  decora- 
tions, including  four  small  shoes,  and  the  like  amount  of  silk 

stockings,  and yes,  why  not  ? — the   feet  and  legs   therein 

enshrined.  And  there  is  no  doubt  that  Martin  was  monstrous 
well-disposed  to  regard  his  position  in  that  light,  after  his 
recent  experience  of  the  Screw,  and  of  Mrs.  Pawkins's  board- 
ing-house. The  consequence  was,  that  he  made  himself  very 
agreeable  indeed  ;  and  by  the  time  the  tea  and  coffee  arrived 
(with  sweet  preserves,  and  cunning  tea-cakes  in  its  train),  was 
in  a  highly  gejiial  state,  and  much  esteemed  by  the  whole 
family. 

Another  delightful  circumstance  turned  up  before  the  first 
cup  of  tea  was  drunk.  The  whole  family  had  been  in  Eng- 
land. There  was  a  pleasant  thing  !  But  Martin  was  not 
quite  so  glad  of  this,  when  he  found  that  they  knew  all  the 
great  dukes,  lords,  viscounts,  marquesses,  duchesses,  knights, 
and  baronets,  quite  affectionately,  and  were  beyond  everything 
interested  in  the  least  particular  concerning  them.  How- 
ever, when  they  asked  after  the  wearer  of  this  or  that  coronet, 
and  said,  "  Was  he  quite  well  ?  "  Martin  answered,  "  Yes,  oh 
yes.  Never  better  • "  and  when  they  said,  ''  his  lordship's 
mother,  the  duchess,  was  she  much  changed  ?  "  Martin  said, 
"  Oh  dear  no,  they  would  know  her  anywhere,  if  they  saw  her 
to-morrow;"  and  so  got  on  pretty  well.  In  like  manner 
when  the  young  ladies  questioned  him  touching  the  Gold 
Fish  in  that  Grecian  fountain  in  such  and  such  a  nobleman's 
conservatorv,  and  whether  there  were  as  manv  as  there  used 
to  be,  he  gravely  reported,  after  mature  consideration,  that 
there  must  be  at  least  twice  as  many  ;  and  as  to  the  exotics, 
"  Oh  !  well  !  it  was  of  no  use  talking  about  t/icrn  ;  they  must 
be  seen  to  be  believed;"  which  improved  state  of  circum- 
stances reminded  the  family  of  the  splendor  of  that  brilliant 
festival  (comprehending  the  whole  British  Peerage  and  Court 
Calendar)  to  which  they  were  specially  invited,  and  which 
indeed  had  been  partly  given  in  their  honor  ;  and  recollections 
of  what  Mr.  Norris  the  father  had  said  to  the  marquess,  and 
of  what  Mrs.  Norris  the  mother  had  said  to  the  marchioness, 
and  of  what  the  marquess  and  marchioness  had  both  said, 
I  when  they  said  that  upon  their  words  and  honors  they  wished 


2^2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Norris  the  father  and  Mrs.  Norris  the  mother,  and  the 
Misses  Norris  the  daughters,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior,  the  son, 
would  only  take  up  their  permanent  residence  in  England, 
and  give  them  the  pleasure  of  their  everlasting  friendship, 
occupied  a  very  considerable  time. 

Martin  thought  it  rather  strange,  and  in  some  sort  incon- 
sistent,  that   during   the  whole   of    these  narrations,   and  in 
the  very  meridian  of  their  enjoyment  thereof,  both  Mr.  Norris 
the  father,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior,  the  son  (who  corresponded, 
every  post,  with  four  members  of  the  English  Peerage),  en- 
larged upon  the  inestimable  advantage  of  having  no  such  arbi- 
trary distinctions  in  that  enlightened  land,  where  there  were 
no  noblemen  but  nature's   noblemen,  and  where  all  society 
was  based  on  one  broad  level  of  brotherly  love  and  natural 
equality.     Indeed,  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  gradually  expanding 
into  an  oration  on  this  swelling  theme  was  becoming  tedious, 
when  Mr.  Bevan  diverted  his  thoughts,  by  happening  to  make 
some  casual  inquiry  relative  to  the  occupier  of  the  next  house  ; 
in  reply  to  which,  this  same  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  observed, 
that  "  that  person  entertained  religious  opinions  of  which  he 
couldn't  approve  ;  and  therefore  he  hadn't  the  honor  of  know- 
ing the  gentleman."     Mrs.  Norris  the  mother  added  another 
reason  of  her  own,  the  same  in  effect,  but  varying  in  words  : 
to  wit,  that  she  believed  the  people  were  well  enough  in  their 
way,  but  they  were  not  genteel. 

Another  little  trait  came  out,  which  impressed  itself  on 
Martin  forcibly.  Mr.  Bevan  told  them  about  Mark  and  the 
negro,  and  then  it  appeared  that  all  the  Norrises  were  aboli- 
tionists. It  was  a  great  relief  to  hear  this,  and  Martin  was  so 
much  encouraged  on  finding  himself  in  such  company,  that  he 
expressed  his  sympathy  with  the  oppressed  and  wretched 
blacks.  Now,  one  of  the  young  ladies — the  prettiest  and  most 
delicate — was  mightily  amused  at  the  earnestness  with  which 
he  spoke  ;  and  on  his  craving  leave  to  ask  her  why,  was  quite 
unable  for  a  time  to  speak  for  laughing.  As  soon  however  as 
she  could,  she  told  him  that  the  negroes  were  such  a  funny 
people  ;  so  excessively  ludicrous  in  their  manners  and  appear- 
ance ;  that  it  was  wholly  impossible  for  those  who  knew  them 
well,  to  associate  any  serious  ideas  with  such  a  very  absurd 
part  of  the  creation.  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  and  Mrs.  Norris 
the  mother,  and  Miss  Norris  the  sister,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior 
the  brother,  and  even  Mrs.  Norris  Senior  the  grandmother, 
were  all  of  this  opinion,  and  laid  it  down  as  an  absolute  mat- 


MARTLY  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


293 


ter  of  fact.  As  if  there  were  nothing  in  suffering  and  slavery, 
grim  enough  to  cast  a  solemn  air  on  any  human  animal ; 
though  it  were  as  ridiculous  physically,  as  the  most  grotesque 
of  apes,  or,  morally,  as  the  mildest  Nimrod  among  tuft-hunting 
republicans. 

"  In  short,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  settling  the  question 
comfortably,  "  there  is  a  natural  antipathy  between  the  races." 

"  Extending,"  said  Martin's  friend,  in  a  low  voice,  "  to 
the  cruellest  of  tortures,  and  the  bargain  and  sale  of  unborn 
generations." 

Mr.  Norris  the  son  said  nothing,  but  he  made  a  wr}^  face, 
and  dusted  his  fingers  as  Hamlet  might  after  getting  rid  of 
Yorick's  skull  ;  just  as  though  he  had  that  moment  touched  a 
negro,  and  some  of  the  black  had  come  off  upon  his  hands. 

In  order  that  their  talk  might  fall  again  into  its  former 
pleasant  channel,  Martin  dropped  the  subject,  with  a  shrewd 
suspicion  that  it  would  be  a  dangerous  theme  to  revive  under 
the  best  of  circumstances,  and  again  addressed  himself  to  the 
young  ladies,  who  were  very  gorgeously  attired  in  very  beautiful 
colors,  and  had  every  article  of  dress  on  the  same  extensive  scale 
as  the  little  shoes  and  the  thin  silk  stockings.  This  suggested 
to  him  that  they  were  great  proficients  in  the  French  fashions, 
which  soon  turned  out  to  be  the  case,  for  though  their  infor- 
mation appeared  to  be  none  of  the  newest,  it  was  verj'  exten- 
sive ;  and  the  eldest  sister  in  particular,  who  was  distinguished 
by  a  talent  for  metaphysics,  the  laws  of  hydraulic  pressure, 
and  the  rights  of  human  kind,  had  a  novel  way  of  combining 
these  acquirements  and  bringing  them  to  bear  on  any  subject 
from  Millinery  to  the  Millennium,  both  inclusive,  which  was 
at  once  improving  and  remarkable  ;  so  much  so,  in  short,  that 
it  was  usually  obser\'ed  to  reduce  foreigners  to  a  state  of  tem- 
porary insanity  in  five  minutes. 

Martin  felt  his  reason  going  ;  and  as  a  means  of  saving 
himself,  besought  the  other  sister  (seeing  a  piano  in  the  room) 
to  sing.  With  this  request  she  willingly  complied ;  and  a 
bravura  concert,  solely  sustained  by  the  \Iisses  Norris,  pres- 
ently began.  They  sang  in  all  languages — except  their  own. 
German,  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Swiss ;  but 
nothing  native — nothing  so  low  as  native.  For,  in  this  re- 
spect,  languages  are  like  many  other  travellers — ordinary  and 
common-place  enough  at  home,  but  'specially  genteel  abroad. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  in  course  of  time  the  Misses 
Norris  would  have  come  to  Hebrew,  if  they  had  not  been  in- 


294  MARTIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

terrupted  by  an  announcement  from  the  Irishman,  who  fling- 
ing open  the  door,  cried  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"Jiniral  Flad'dock !  " 

"  My  !  "  cried  the  sisters,  desisting  suddenly.  "  The  gen- 
eral come  back  ! " 

As  they  made  the  exclamation,  the  general,  attired  in  full 
uniform  for  a  ball,  came  darting  in  with  such  precipitancy, 
that,  hitching  his  boot  in  the  carpet,  and  getting  his  sword  be- 
tween his  legs,  he  came  down  headlong,  and  presented  a  curi- 
ous little  bald  place  on  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  eyes  of 
the  astonished  company.  Nor  was  this  the  worst  of  it  ;  for 
being  rather  corpulent  and  very  tight,  the  general,  being  down, 
could  not  get  up  again,  but  lay  there  writhing  and  doing  such 
things  with  his  boots,  as  there  is  no  other  instance  of  in  mili- 
tary history. 

Of  course  there  was  an  immediate  rush  to  his  assistance  ; 
and  the  general  was  promptly  raised.  But  his  uniform  was  so 
fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,  that  he  came  up  stiff  and 
without  a  bend  in  him,  like  a  dead  clown,  and  had  no  com- 
mand whatever  of  himself  until  he  was  put  quite  flat  upon  the 
soles  of  his  feet,  when  he  became  animated  as  by  a  miracle, 
and  moving  edgewise  that  he  might  go  in  a  narrower  compass 
and  be  in  less  danger  of  fraying  the  gold  lace  on  his  epaulettes 
by  brushing  them  against  anything,  advanced  with  a  smiling 
visage  to  salute  the  lady  of  the  house. 

To  be  sure,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  family 
to  testify  purer  delight  and  joy  than  at  this  unlooked-for  ap- 
pearance of  General  Fladdock  !  The  general  was  as  warmly 
received  as  if  New  York  had  been  in  a  state  of  siege  and  no 
other  general  was  to  be  got,  for  love  or  money.  He  shook 
hands  with  the  Norrises  three  times  all  round,  and  then  re- 
viewed them  from  a  little  distance  as  a  brave  commander 
might,  with  his  ample  cloak  drawn  forward  over  the  right 
shoulder  and  thrown  back  upon  the  left  side  to  reveal  his 
manly  breast. 

"  And  do  I  then,"  cried  the  general,  "  once  again  behold 
the  choicest  spirits  of  my  country  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father.  "  Here  we  are,  gen- 
eral." 

Then  all  the  Norrises  pressed  round  the  general,  inquiring 
how  and  where  he  had  been  since  the  date  of  his  letter,  and 
how  he  had  enjoyed  himself  in  foreign  parts,  and  particularly 
and  above  all,  to  what  extent  he  had  become  acquainted  with 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  295 

the  great  dukes,  lords,  viscounts,  marquesses,  duchesses, 
knights,  and  baronets,  in  whom  the  people  of  those  benighted 
countries  had  delight. 

"  Well  then,  don't  ask  me,"  said  the  general,  holding  up 
his  hand.  "  I  was  among  'em  all  the  time,  and  have  got  pub- 
lic journals  in  my  trunk  with  my  name  printed  " — he  lowered 
his  v'oice  and  was  ver)'  impressive  here—"  among  the  fashion- 
able news.  But,  oh  the  conventionalities  of  that  a-mazing 
Eu — rope  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  mving  his  head  a 
melancholy  shake,  and  looking  towards  Martin  as  though  he 
would  say,  "I  can't  deny  it,  sir.     I  would  if  I  could." 

"  The  limited  diffusion  of  a  moral  sense  in  that  country  !  " 
exclaimed  the  general.  "  The  absence  of  a  moral  dignity  in 
man  !  " 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  all  the  Norrises,  quite  overwhelmed  with 
despondency. 

"  1  couldn't  have  realized  it,"  pursued  the  general,  ''  with- 
out being  located  on  the  spot.  Norris,  your  imagination  is 
the  imagination  of  a  strong  man,  but  yoic  couldn't  have  realized 
it,  without  being  located  on  the  spot !  " 

"  Never,"  said  Mr.  Norris. 

"  The  ex-clusiveness,  the  pride,  the  form,  the  ceremony," 
exclaimed  the  general,  emphasizing  the  article  more  vigorously 
at  every  repetition.  "  The  artificial  barriers  set  up  between 
man  and  man  ;  the  division  of  the  human  race  into  court  cards 
and  plain  cards,  of  every  denomination — into  clubs,  diamonds, 
spades,  anything  but  hearts  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  whole  family.     "  Too  true,  general !  " 

"  But  stay !  "  cried  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  taking  him  by 
the  arm.     "  Surely  you  crossed  in  the  Screw,  general  ? " 

"  Well !  so  I  did,"  M'as  the  reply. 

"  Possible  !  "  cried  the  young  ladies.     "  Only  think  !  " 

The  general  seemed  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  his  having 
come  home  in  the  Screw  should  occasion  such  a  sensation,  nor 
did  he  seem  at  all  clearer  on  the  subject  when  Mr.  Norris, 
introducing  him  to  Martin,  said  : 

"  A  fellow-passenger  of  yours,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Of  mine  ?"  exclaimed  the  general ;  "  No  !  " 

He  had  never  seen  Martin,  but  Martin  had  seen  him,  and 
recognized  him,  now  that  they  stood  face  to  face,  as  the  gentle- 
man who  had  stuck  his  hands  in  his  pockets  towards  the  end 
of  the  voyage,  and  walked  the  deck  with  his  nostrils  dilated. 


296 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Everybody  looked  at  Martin.  There  was  no  help  for  it. 
The  truth  must  out. 

"  I  came  over  in  the  same  ship  as  the  general,"  said  Martin, 
"  but  not  in  the  same  cabin,  it  being  necessary  for  me  to 
observe  strict  economy,  I  took  my  passage  in  the  steerage." 

If  the  general  had  been  carried  up  bodily  to  a  loaded  can- 
non, and  required  to  let  it  off  that  moment,  he  could  not  have 
been  in  a  state  of  greater  consternation  that  when  he  heard 
these  words.  He,  Fladdock,  Fladdock  in  full  militia  uniform, 
Fladdock  the  General,  Fladdock  the  carressed  of  foreign 
noblemen,  expected  to  know  a  fellow  who  had  come  over  in 
the  steerage  of  a  line-of-packet  ship,  at  the  cost  of  four  pound 
ten  !  And  meeting  that  fellow  in  the  very  sanctuary  of  New 
York  fashion,  and  nestling  in  the  bosom  of  the  New  York 
aristocracy  !     He  almost  laid  his  hand  upon  his  sword. 

A  death  like  stillness  fell  upon  the  Norrises.  If  this  story 
should  get  wind,  their  country  relation  had,  by  his  imprudence, 
for  ever  disgraced  them,  lliey  were  the  bright  particular 
stars  of  an  exalted  New  York  sphere.  There  were  other 
fashionable  spheres  above  them,  and  other  fashionable  spheres 
.below,  and  none  of  the  stars  in  any  one  of  these  spheres  had 
anything  to  say  to  the  stars  in  any  other  of  these  spheres. 
But  through  all  the  spheres  it  would  go  forth,  that  the  Norrises, 
deceived  by  gentlemanly  manners  and  appearances,  had,  falling 
from  their  high  estate,  "  received  "  a  dollarless  and  unknown 
man.  O  guardian  eagle  of  the  pure  Republic,  had  they  lived 
for  this  ! 

"  You  will  allow  me,"  said  Martin,  after  a  terrible  silence, 
"  to  take  my  leave.  I  feel  that  I  am  the  cause  of  at  least  as 
much  embarrassment  here,  as  I  have  brought  upon  myself. 
But  I  am  bound,  before  I  go,  to  exonerate  this  gentleman, 
who,  in  introducing  me  to  such  society,  was  quite  ignorant  of 
my  unworthiness,  I  assure  you." 

With  that  he  made  his  bow  to  the  Norrises,  and  walked 
out  like  a  man  of  snow — very  cool  externally,  but  pretty  hot 
within. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father  looking  with  a 
pale  face  on  the  assembled  circle  as  Martin  closed  the  door, 
'*  the  young  man  has  this  night  behold  a  refinement  of  social 
manner,  and  an  easy  magnificence  of  social  decoration,  to 
which  he  is  a  stranger  in  his  own  country.  Let  us  hope  it 
may  awake  a  moral  sense  within  him." 

If  that  peculiarly  transatlantic  article  a  moral  sense, — for 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


297 


if  native  statesmen,  orators,  and  pamphleteers,  are  to  be  be- 
lieved, America  quite  monopolizes  the  commodity, — if  that 
peculiarly  transatlantic  article  be  supposed  to  include  a  be- 
nevolent love  of  all  mankind,  certainly  Martin's  would  have 
borne,  just  then,  a  deal  of  waking.  As  he  strode  along  the 
street,  with  Mark  at  his  heels,  his  immoral  sense  was  in  active 
operation  ;  prompting  him  to  the  utterance  of  some  rather 
sanguinary  remarks,  which  it  was  well  for  his  own  credit  that 
nobody  overheard.  He  had  so  far  cooled  down  however,  that 
he  had  begun  to  laugh  at  the  recollection  of  these  incidents, 
when  he  heard  another  step  behind  him,  and  turning  round 
encountered  his  friend  Bevan,  quite  out  of  breath. 

He  drew  his  arm  through  Martin's,  and  entreating  him  to 
walk  slowly,  was  silent  for  some  minutes.     At  length  he  said  : 

"  1  hope  you  exonerate  me  in  another  sense?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  t  "  asked  Martin. 

"  I  hope  you  acquit  me  of  intending  or  foreseeing  the  ter- 
mination of  our  visit.     But  I  scarcely  need  ask  you  tiial." 

"  Scarcely  indeed,"  said  Martin.  *'  I  am  the  more  be- 
holden to  you  for  your  kindness,  when  I  find  what  kind  of 
stuff  the  good  citizens  here  are  made  of." 

"  I  reckon,"  his  friend  returned,  "  that  they  are  made  of 
pretty  much  the  same  stuff  as  other  folks,  if  they  would  but 
own  it,  and  not  set  up  on  false  pretences." 

"  In  good  faith,  that's  true,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  dare  say,"  resumed  his  friend,  "  you  might  have  such 
a  scene  as  that  in  an  English  comedy,  and  not  detect  any 
gross  improbability  or  anomaly  in  the  matter  of  it  "i  " 

"  Yes  indeed!" 

"  Doubtless  it  is  more  ridiculous  here  than  anywhere  else," 
said  his  companion  ;  "  but  our  professions  are  to  blame  for 
that.  So  far  as  I  myself  am  concerned,  I  may  add  that  I  was 
perfectly  aware  from  the  first  that  you  came  over  in  the 
steerage,  for  I  had  seen  the  list  of  passengers,  and  knew  it 
did  not  comprise  your  name." 

"  I  feel  more  obliged  to  you  than  before,"  said  Martin. 

"  Norris  is  a  very  good  fellow  in  his  way,"  observed  Mr, 
Bevan. 

"  Is  he?"  said  Martin  dryly. 

"  Oh  yes  !  there  are  a  hundred  good  points  about  him.  If 
you  or  anybody  else  addressed  iiim  as  another  order  of  l)eing, 
and  sued  to  him  in  forma  pauperis,  he  would  be  all  kindness 
and  consideration." 


298 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  I  needn't  have  travelled  three  thousand  miles  from  home 
to  find  such  a  character  as  that,'''  said  Martin.  Neither  he 
nor  his  friend  said  anything  more  on  the  way  back ;  each 
appearing  to  find  sufficient  occupation  in  his  own  thoughts. 

The  tea,  or  the  supper,  or  whatever  else  they  called  the 
evening  meal,  was  over  when  they  reached  the  Major's  ;  but 
the  cloth,  ornamented  with  a  few  additional  smears  and  stains, 
was  still  upon  the  table.  At  one  end  of  the  board  Mrs. 
Jefferson  Brick  and  two  other  ladies  were  drinking  tea  ;  out 
of  the  ordinary  course,  evidently,  for  they  were  bonneted  and 
shaw^led,  and  seemed  to  have  just  come  home.  By  the  light 
of  three  flaring  candles  of  different  lengths,  in  as  many  can- 
dlesticks of  different  patterns,  the  room  showed  to  almost  as 
little  advantage  as  in  broad  day. 

These  ladies  were  all  three  talking  together  in  a  very  loud 
tone  when  Martin  and  his  friend  entered  ;  but  seeing  those 
gentlemen,  they  stopped  directly,  and  became  excessively 
genteel,  not  to  say  frosty.  As  they  went  on  to  exchange  some 
few  remarks  in  whispers,  the  very  water  in  the  tea-pot  might 
have  fallen  twenty  degrees  in  temperature  beneath  their  chil- 
ling coldness. 

"  Have  you  been  to  meeting,  Mrs.  Brick  1  "  asked  Martin's 
friend,  with  something  of  a  roguish  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  To  lecture,  sir." 

"  I  beg  you  pardon.  I  forgot.  You  don't  go  to  meeting, 
I  think .?  " 

Here  the  lady  on  the  right  of  Mrs.  Brick  gave  a  pious 
cough,  as  much  as  to  say  "  /do  !  "  As,  indeed,  she  did,  nearly 
every  night  in  the  week. 

"  A  good  discourse,  ma'am  t  "  asked  Mr.  Bevan,  addressing 
this  lady. 

The  lady  raised  her  eyes  in  a  pious  manner,  and  answered 
"  Yes."  She  had  been  much  comforted  by  some  good,  strong, 
peppery  doctrine,  which  satisfactorily  disposed  of  all  her 
friends  and  acquaintances,  and  quite  settled  their  business. 
Her  bonnet,  too,  had  far  outshone  every  bonnet  in  the  con- 
gregation ;  so  she  was  tranquil  on  all  accounts. 

"  What  course  of  lectures  are  you  attending  now,  ma'am  ?  " 
said  Martin's  friend,  turning  again  to  Mrs.  Brick. 

"  The  Philosophy  of  the  Soul,  on  Wednesdays." 

"  On  Mondays  .?  " 

"  The  Philosophy  of  Crime." 

"  On  Fridays  ?  " 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  299 

"The  Philosophy  of  Vegetables." 

"  You  have  forgotten  Thursdays  ;  the  Philosophy  of  Gov- 
ernment, mv  dear,"  observed  the  third  lady. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Brick.     ''  That's  Tuesdays." 

"  So  it  is  !  "  cried  the  lady.  "  The  Philosophy  of  Matter 
on  Thursdays,  of  course." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  our  ladies  are  fully  employed," 
said  Bevan. 

"  Indeed  you  have  reason  to  say  so,"  answered  Martin. 
"  Between  these  very  grave  pursuits  abroad,  and  family  duties 
at  home,  their  time  must  be  pretty  well  engrossed." 

Martin  stopped  here,  for  he  saw  that  the  ladies  regarded 
him  with  no  very  great  favor,  though  what  he  had  done  to 
deser\'e  the  disdainful  expression  which  appeared  in  their 
faces  he  was  at  a  loss  to  divine.  But  on  their  going  up  stairs 
to  their  bed-rooms — which  they  very  soon  did — Mr.  Bevan 
informed  him  that  domestic  drudgery  was  far  beneath  the 
exalted  range  of  these  Philosophers,  and  that  the  chances  were 
a  hundred  to  one  that  not  one  of  the  three  could  perform  the 
easiest  woman's  work  for  herself,  or  make  the  simplest  article 
of  dress  for  any  of  her  children. 

"  Though  whether  they  might  not  be  better  employed  with 
such  blunt  instruments  as  knitting-needles,  than  with  these 
edge-tools,"  he  said,  "  is  another  question  ;  but  I  can  answer 
for  one  thing :  they  don't  often  cut  themselves.  Devotions 
and  lectures  are  our  balls  and  concerts.  They  go  to  these 
places  of  resort,  as  an  escape  from  monotony  ;  look  at  each 
other's  clothes  ;  and  come  home  again." 

"  When  you  say  '  home,'  do  you  mean  a  house  like  this  ?  " 

"  Very  often.  But  I  see  you  are  tired  to  death,  and  will 
wish  you  good-night.  We  will  discuss  your  projects  in  the 
morning..  You  cannot  but  feel  already  that  it  is  useless  stay- 
ing here,  with  any  hope  of  advancing  them.  You  will  have  to 
go  farther." 

"  And  to  fare  worse  ?  "  said  Martin,  pursuing  the  old 
adage. 

"  Well,  I  hope  not.  But  sufficient  for  the  day,  you  know. 
Good-night." 

They  shook  hands  heartily  and  separated.  As  soon  as 
Martin  was  left  alone,  the  excitement  of  novelty  and  change 
which  had  sustained  him  through  all  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
departed  ;  and  he  felt  so  thoroughly  dejected  and  worn  out, 
that  he  even  lacked  the  energy  to  crawl  up  stairs  to  bed. 


300  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

In  twelve  or  fifteen  hours,  how  great  a  change  had  fallen 
on  his  hopes  and  sanguine  plans  !  New  and  strange  as  he 
was  to  the  ground  on  which  he  stood,  and  to  the  air  he 
breathed,  he  could  not— recalling  all  that  he  had  crowded  into 
that  one  day — but  entertain  a  strong  misgiving  that  his  enter- 
prize  was  doomed.  Rash  and  ill-considered  as  it  had  often 
looked  on  shipboard,  but  had  never  seemed  on  shore,  it  wore 
a  dismal  aspect,  now,  that  frightened  him.  Whatever  thoughts 
he  called  up  to  his  aid,  they  came  upon  him  in  depressing  and 
discouraging  shapes,  and  gave  him  no  relief.  Even  the  dia- 
monds on  his  finger  sparkled  with  the  brightness  of  tears,  and 
had  no  ray  of  hope  in  all  their  brilliant  lustre. 

He  continued  to  sit  in  gloomy  rumination  by  the  stove, 
unmindful  of  the  boarders  who  dropped  in  one  by  one  from 
their  stores  and  counting-houses,  or  the  neighboring  bar-rooms, 
and  after  taking  long  pulls  from  a  great  white  water-jug  upon 
the  sideboard,  and  lingering  with  a  kind  of  hideous  fascination 
near  the  brass  spittoons,  lounged  heavily  to  bed  ;  until  at 
length  Mark  Tapley  came  and  shook  him  by  the  arm,  suppos- 
ing him  asleep. 

"  Mark  !  "  he  cried,  starting. 

"  All  right,  sir,"'  said  that  cheerful  follower,  snuffing  with 
his  fingers  the  candle  he  bore.  "  It  ain't  a  very  large  bed, 
your'n,  sir ;  and  a  man  as  wasn't  thirsty  might  drink,  afore 
breakfast,  all  the  water  you've  got  to  wash  in,  and  arterwards 
eat  the  towel.       But  you'll  sleep  without   rocking   to-night, 


sir." 


"  I  feel  as  if  the  house  were  on  the  sea,"  said  Martin, 
staggering  when  he  rose  ;  "  and  am  utterly  wretched." 

"  I'm  as  jolly  as  a  sandboy,  myself,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  But, 
Lord,  I  have  reason  to  be  !  I  ought  to  have  been  born  here ; 
that's  my  opinion.  Take  care  how  you  go,"  for  they  were 
now  ascending  the  stairs.  "  You  recollect  the  gentleman 
aboard  the  Screw  as  had  the  very  small  trunk,  sir  1  " 

"  The  valise  ?     Yes." 

"  Well,  sir,  there's  been  a  delivery  of  clean  clothes  from 
the  wash  to-night,  and  they're  put  outside  the  bed-room  doors 
here.  If  you  take  notice  as  we  go  up,  what  a  very  few  shirts 
there  are,  and  what  a  many  fronts,  you'll  penetrate  the  mys- 
tery of  his  packing." 

But  Martin  was  too  weary  and  despondent  to  take  heed  of 
anything,  so  had  no  interest  in  this  discovery.  Mr.  Tapley, 
nothing  dashed  by  his  indifference,  conducted  him  to  the  top 


MARTIN  CHUZZLElVfT.  ^oi 

of  the  house,  and  into  the  bed-chamber  prepared  for  his  re- 
ception, which  was  a  very  Uttle  narrow  room,  with  half  a 
window  in  it,  a  bedstead  like  a  chest  without  a  lid,  two 
chairs,  a  piece  of  carpet,  such  as  shoes  are  commonly  tried 
upon  at  a  ready-made  establishment  in  England  ;  a  little  look- 
ing-glass nailed  against  the  wall,  and  a  washing  table,  with 
a  jug  and  ewer  that  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  milk- 
pot  and  slop-basin. 

"I  suppose  they  polish  themselves  with  a  dr\'  cloth  in 
this  country,"  said  Mark.  "They've  certainly  got  a  touch  of 
the  'phoby,  sir." 

"  I  wish  you  would  pull  off  my  boots  for  me,"  said  Martin, 
dropping  into  one  of  the  chairs.  "  I  am  quite  knocked  up. 
Dead  beat,  Mark." 

"  You  won't  say  that  to-morrow  morning,  sir,"  returned 
Mr.  Tapley  ;  "  nor  even  to-night,  sir,  when  you've  made  a  trial 
of  this."  V\'ith  which  he  produced  a  very  large  tumbler,  piled 
up  to  the  brim  with  little  blocks  of  clear  transparent  ice, 
through  which  one  or  two  thin  slices  of  lemon,  and  a  golden 
liquid  of  delicious  appearance,  appealed  from  the  still  depths 
below,  to  the  loving  eye  of  the  spectator. 

"What  do  you  call  this  ?  "  said  Martin. 

But  Mr.  Tapley  made  no  answer,  merely  plunging  a  reed 
into  the  mixture — which  caused  a  pleasant  commotion  among 
the  pieces  of  ice — and  signifying  by  an  expressive  gesture 
that  it  was  to  be  pumped  up  through  that  agency  by  the  en- 
raptured drinker. 

Martin  took  the  glass,  with  an  astonished  look,  applied 
his  lips  to  the  reed,  and  cast  up  his  eyes  once  in  ecstasy. 
He  paused  no  more  until  the  goblet  was  drained  to  the  last 
drop. 

"  There,  sir !  "  said  Mark,  taking  it  from  him  with  a 
triumphant  face  ;  "  If  ever  you  should  happen  to  be  dead 
beat  again,  when  I  ain't  in  the  way,  all  you"ve  got  to  do  is,  to 
ask  the  nearest  man  to  go  and  fetch  a  cobbler." 

"  To  go  and  fetch  a  cobbler  ?  "  repealed  Martin. 

"This  wonderful  invention,  sir,"  said  Mark,  .  tenderlv 
patting  the  empty  glass,  ''  is  called  a  cobbler.  Sherry  cobbler 
when  you  name  it  long  ;  cobbler,  when  you  name  it  short. 
Now  you're  equal  to  having  your  boots  took  off,  and  are,  in 
every  particular  worth  mentioning,  another  man." 

Having  deli\ered  himself  of  this  solemn  preface,  he 
brought  the  boot-jack. 


3 02  MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT. 

"  Mind  !  I  am  not  going  to  relapse,  Mark,"  said  Martin  ; 
"  but,  good  Heaven,  if  we  should  be  left  in  some  wild  part  of 
this  country  without  goods  or  money  !  " 

"Well,  sir!"  replied  the  imperturbable  Tapley  ;  "from 
what  we've  seen  already,  I  don't  know  whether,  under  those 
circumstances,  we  shouldn't  do  better  in  the  wild  parts  than 
in  the  tame  ones." 

"  Oh,  Tom  Pinch,  Tom  Pinch ! "  said  Martin,  in  a 
thoughtful  tone  ;  "  what  would  I  give  to  be  again  beside  you, 
and  able  to  hear  your  voice,  though  it  were  even  in  the  old 
bedroom  at  Pecksniff's  !  " 

"  Oh,  Dragon,  Dragon  !  "  echoed  Mark,  cheerfully,  "  if 
there  warn't  any  water  between  you  and  me,  and  nothing  faint- 
hearted-like in  going  back,  I  don't  know  that  I  mightn't  say 
the  same.  But  here  am  I,  Dragon,  in  New  York,  America  ; 
and  there  are  you  in  Wiltshire,  Europe  ;  and  there's  a  fortune 
to  make,  Dragon,  and  a  beautiful  young  lady  to  make  it  for ; 
and  whenever  you  go  to  see  the  Monument,  Dragon,  you 
mustn't  give  in  on  the  door-steps,  or  you'll  never  get  up  to 
the  top  !  " 

"  Wisely  said,  Mark,"  cried  Martin.  "  We  must  look  for- 
ward." 

"  In  all  the  story-books  as  ever  I  read,  sir,  the  people  as 
looked  backward  was  turned  into  stones,"  replied  Mark ; 
"  and  my  opinion  always  was,  that  they  brought  it  on  them- 
selves, and  it  served  'em  right.  I  wish  you  good-night,  sir, 
and  pleasant  dreams  !  " 

"  They  must  be  of  home,  then,"  said  Martin,  as  he  lay 
down  in  bed. 

"So  I  say,  too,"  whispered  Mark  Tapley,  when  he  was  out 
of  hearing  and  in  his  own  room  ;  "  for  if  there  don't  come  a 
time  afore  we're  well  out  of  this,  when  there'll  be  a  little  more 
credit  in  keeping  up  one's  jollity,  I'm  a  United  Statesman !  " 

Leaving  them  to  blend  and  mingle  in  their  sleep  the 
shadows  of  objects  afar  oft",  as  they  take  fantastic  shapes  upon 
the  wall  in  the  dim  light  of  thought  without  control,  be  it  the 
part  of  this  slight  chronicle — a  dream  within  a  dream — as 
rapidly  to  change  the  scene,  and  cross  the  ocean  to  the 
English  shore. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  303 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DOES  BUSINESS  WITH  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANTHONY  CHUZZLEWIT 
AND  SON,  FROM  WHICH  ONE  OF  THE  PARTNERS  RETIRES 
UNEXPECTEDLY. 

Change  begets  change.  Nothing  propagates  so  fast.  If  a 
man  habituated  to  a  narrow  circle  of  cares  and  pleasures,  out 
of  which  he  seldom  travels,  step  beyond  it,  though  for  never 
so  brief  a  spac^,  his  departure  from  the  monotonous  scene 
on  which  he  has  been  an  actor  of  importance,  would  seem  to 
be  the  signal  for  instant  confusion.  As  if,  in  the  gap  he  had 
left,  the  wedge  of  change  were  driven  to  the  head,  rending 
what  was  a  solid  mass  to  fragments,  things  cemented  and  held 
together  by  the  usages  of  years,  burst  asunder  in  as  many 
weeks.  The  mine  which  Time  has  slowly  dug  beneath 
familiar  objects,  is  sprung  in  an  instant  ;  and  what  was  rock 
before,  becomes  but  sand  and  dust. 

Most  men,  at  one  time  or  other,  have  proved  this  in  some 
degree.  The  extent  to  which  the  natural  laws  of  change 
asserted  their  supremacy  in  that  limited  sphere  of  action 
which  Martin  had  deserted,  shall  be  faithfully  set  down  in 
these  pages. 

"  What  a  cold  spring  it  is  !  "  whimpered  old  Anthony, 
drawing  near  the  evening  fire.  "  It  was  a  warmer  season, 
sure,  when  I  was  young  !  " 

"You  needn't  go  scorching  your  clothes  into  holes, 
whether  it  was  or  not,"  obser\ed  the  amiable  Jonas,  raising 
his  eyes  from  yesterday's  newspaper.  "  Broadcloth  ain't  so 
cheap  as  that  comes  to." 

"  A  good  lad  !  "  cried  the  father,  breathing  on  his  cold 
hands,  and  feebly  chafing  them  against  each  other.  "  A 
prudent  lad  !  He  never  delivered  himself  up  to  the  vanities 
of  dress.     No,  no  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  would  though,  mind  you,  if  I  could 
do  it  for  nothing,"  said  his  son,  as  he  resumed  the  paper. 

"  Ah  !  "  chuckled  the  old  man.  "  If,  indeed  !  Lut  it's 
very  cold." 

"  Let  the  fire  be  !  "  cried  Mr.  Jonas,  stopping  his  honored 


30|  MARTIN  CHUZZLEV/IT. 

parent's  hand  in  the  use  of  the  poker.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
come  to  want  in  your  old  age,  that  you  take  to  wasting  now  ? " 

"  There's  not  time  for  that,  Jonas,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Not  time  for  what  t  "  bawled  his  heir. 

"  For  me  to  come  to  want.     1  wish  there  was  !  " 

"  You  always  were  as  selfish  an  old  blade  as  need  be," 
said  Jonas,  in  a  voice  too  low  for  him  to  hear,  and  looking  at 
him  with  an  angry  frown.  "  You  act  up  to  your  character.  You 
wouldn't  mind  coming  to  want,  wouldn't  you  !  I  dare  say 
you  wouldn't.  And  your  own  flesh  and  blood  might  come  to 
want  too,  might  they,  for  anything  you  cared?  Oh  you 
precious  old  flint !  " 

After  this  dutiful  address  he  took  his  tea-cup  in  his  hand  : 
for  that  meal  was  in  progress,  and  the  father  and  son  and 
Chuffey  were  partakers  of  it.  Then,  looking  steadfastly  at 
his  father,  and  stopping  now  and  then  to  carry  a  spoonful  of 
tea  to  his  lips,  he  proceeded  in  the  same  tone,  thus  : 

"  Want,  indeed  !  You're  a  nice  old  man  to  be  talking  of 
want  at  this  time  of  day.  Beginning  to  talk  of  want,  are  you  ? 
Well,  I  declare  !  There  isn't  time  .?  No,  I  should  hope  not. 
But  you'd  live  to  be  a  couple  of  hundred  if  you  could  ;  and 
after  all  be  discontented,     /know  you  !  " 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  still  sat  cowering  before  the  fire. 
Mr.  Jonas  shook  his  Britannia-metal  teaspoon  at  him,  and 
taking  a  loftier  position  went  on  to  argue  the  point  on  high 
moral  grounds. 

"  If  you're  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  that,"  he  grumbled, 
but  in  the  same  subdued  key,  "why  don't  you  make  over  your 
property  .^  Buy  an  annuity  cheap,  and  make  your  life  interest- 
ing to  yourself  and  everybody  else  that  watches  the  specu- 
lation. But  no,  that  wouldn't  •a\x\lyou.  That  would  be  natural 
conduct  to  your  own  son,  and  you  like  to  be  unnatural,  and  to 
keep  him  out  of  his  rights.  Why,  I  should  be  ashamed  of  my- 
self if  1  was  you,  and  glad  to  hide  my  head  in  the  what  you 
may  call  it." 

Possibly  this  general  phrase  supplied  the  place  of  grave, 
or  tomb,  or  sepulchre,  or  cemetery,  or  mausoleum,  or- other 
such  word  which  the  filial  tenderness  of  Mr.  Jonas  made  him 
delicate  of  pronouncing.  He  pursued  the  theme  no  further  ; 
for  Chuffey,  somehow  discovering,  from  his  old  corner  by  the 
fireside,  that  Anthony  was  in  the  attitude  of  a  listener,  and 
that  Jonas  appeared  to  be  speaking,  suddenly  cried  out,  like 
one  inspired  • 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  305 

"  He  is  your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Your  own  son, 
sir  !  " 

Old  Chuffey  little  suspected  what  depth  of  application  these 
words  had,  or  that,  in  the  bitter  satire  which  they  bore,  they 
might  have  sunk  into  the  old  man's  very  soul,  could  he  have 
known  what  words  were  hanging  on  his  own  son's  lips,  or 
what  was  passing  in  his  thoughts.  But  the  voice  diverted  the 
current  of  Anthony's  reflections,  and  roused  him. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Chuffey,  Jonas  is  a  chip  of  the  old  block.  It's 
a  very  old  block,  now,  Chuffey,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
strange  look  of  discomposure. 

"  Precious  old,"  assented  Jonas. 

"No,  no,  no,"  said  Chuff  e}'.  "  No,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Not 
old  at  all,  sir."' 

'•  Oh  !  He's  worse  than  ever,  you  know  !  "  cried  Jonas, 
quite  disgusted.  "  Upon  my  soul,  father,  he's  getting  too  bad. 
Hold  your  tongue,  will  you .''  " 

"  He  says  you're  wrong!  "  cried  Anthony  to  the  old  clerk. 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  was  Chuffey's  answer.  "  1  know  better.  I 
say  he's  wrong.  I  say  he's  wrong.  He's  a  boy.  That's  what 
he  is.  So  are  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit — a  kind  of  boy.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha!  You're  quite  a  boy  to  many  I  have  known  ;  you're  a  boy 
to  me  ;  you're  a  boy  to  hundreds  of  us.     Don't  mind  him  !  " 

With  which  extraordinary  speech — for  in  the  case  of 
Chuffey  this  was  a  burst  of  eloquence  without  a  parallel — the 
poor  old  shadow  drew  through  his  palsied  arm  his  master's 
hand,  and  held  it  there,  with  his  own  folded  upon  it,  as  if  he 
would  defend  him. 

"  I  grow  deafer  every  day.  Chuff,"  said  Anthony,  with  as 
much  softness  of  manner,  or,  to  describe  it  more  correctly, 
with  as  little  hardness  as  he  was  capable  of  expressing. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Chuffey.  "  No  you  don't.  What  if  you 
did  ?     I've  been  deaf  this  twenty  year." 

"I  grow  blinder,  too,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  his  head. 

"  That's  a  good  sign  !  "  cried  Chuffey.  "  Ha  !  ha  !  The 
best  sign  in  the  world  !     You  saw  too  well  before." 

He  patted  Anthony  upon  the  hand  as  one  might  comfort 
a  child,  and  drawing  the  old  man's  arm  still  further  through 
his  own,  shook  his  trembling  fingers  towards  the  spot  where 
Jonas  sat,  as  though  he  would  wave  him  off.  But,  Anthony  re- 
maining quite  still  and  silent,  he  relaxed  his  hold  by  slow  de- 
grees and  lapsed  into  his  usual  niche  in  the  corner,  merely  put- 
ting forth  his  hand  at  intervals  and  touching  his  old  employer 

20 


3o6 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT, 


gently  on  the  coat,  as  with  the  design  of  assuring  himself  that 
he  was  yet  beside  him. 

Mr.  Jonas  was  so  very  much  amazed  by  these  proceedings 
that  he  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  the  two  old  men,  until 
Chuffey  had  fallen  into  his  usual  state,  and  Anthony  had  sunk 
into  a  doze  ;  when  he  gave  some  vent  to  his  emotions  by  going 
close  up  to  the  former  personage,  and  making  as  though  he 
would,  in  vulgar  parlance,  "  punch  his  head."  • 

"  They've  been  carrying  on  this  game,"  thought  Jonas  in 
a  brown  study,  "  for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks.  I  never  saw 
my  father  take  so  much  notice  of  him  as  he  has  in  that  time. 
What !     You're  legacy  hunting  are  you,  Mister  Chuff.?  Eh  t  " 

But  Chuffey  was  as  little  conscious  of  the  thought  as 
of  the  bodily  advance  of  Mr.  Jonas's  clenched  fist,  which 
hovered  fondly  about  his  ear.  When  he  had  scowled  at  him 
to  his  heart's  content,  Jonas  took  the  candle  from  the  table, 
and  walking  into  the  glass  office,  produced  a  bunch  of  keys 
from  his  pocket.  With  one  of  these  he  opened  a  secret  drawer 
in  the  desk,  peeping  stealthily  out,  as  he  did  so,  to  be  certain 
that  the  two  old  men  were  still  before  the  fire. 

"  All  as  right  as  ever,"  said  Jonas,  propping  the  lid  of  the 
desk  open  with  his  forehead,  and  unfolding  a  paper.  "  Here's 
the  will,  Mister  Chuff.  Thirty  pound  a  year  for  your  main- 
tenance, old  boy,  and  all  the  rest  to  his  only  son,  Jonas. 
You  needn't  trouble  yourself  to  be  too  affectionate.  You 
won't  get  anything  by  it.     What's  that  ?  " 

It  was  startling,  certainly.  A  face  on  the  other  side  of 
the  glass  partition  looking  curiously  in,  and  not  at  him  but  at 
the  paper  in  his  hand.  For  the  eyes  were  attentively  cast 
down  upon  the  writing,  and  were  swiftly  raised  when  he  cried 
out.  Then  they  met  his  own,  and  were  as  the  eyes  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

Suffering  the  lid  of  the  desk  to  fall  with  a  loud  noise,  but 
not  forgetting  even  then  to  lock  it,  Jonas,  pale  and  breathless, 
gazed  upon  this  phantom.  It  moved,  opened  the  door,  and 
walked  in. 

"What's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Jonas,  falling  back.  "  Who 
is-  it  ?     Where  do  you  come  from  ?     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Matter  !  "  cried  the  voice  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  Pecksniff 
in  the  flesh  smiled  amiably  upon  him.  "  The  matter,  Mr. 
Jonas ! " 

"  What  are  you  prying  and  peering  about  here  for?  "  said 
Jonas,  angrily.     "  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  up  to  town  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


3^7 


this  way,  and  taking  one  unawares  ?  It's  precious  odd  a  man 
can't  read  the — the  newspaper — in  his  own  office  without  be- 
ing startled  out  of  his  wits  by  people  coming  in  without  notice. 
Why  didn't  you  knock  at  the  door  ?  " 

"  So  I  did,  Mr.  Jonas,"  answered  Pecksniff,  "but  no  one 
heard  me.  I  was  curious,"  he  added  in  his  gentle  way  as  he 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder,  "  to  hnd  out 
what  part  of  the  newspaper  interested  you  so  much  ;  but  the 
glass  was  too  dim  and  dirty." 

Jonas  glanced  in  haste  at  the  partition.  Well.  It  wasn't 
very  clean.     So  far  he  spoke  the  truth. 

"  Was  it  poetry  now  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  the 
forefinger  of  jx'is  right  hand  with  an  air  of  cheerful  banter. 
"  Or  was  it  politics  ?  Or  was  it  the  price  of  stock  .-"  The 
main  chance,  Mr.  Jonas,  the  main  chance,  I  suspect." 

"  Vou  ain't  far  fro)n  the  truth,"  answered  Jonas,  recover- 
ing himself  and  snuffing  the  candle,  "  but  how  the  deuce  do 
you  come  to  be  in  London  again  .''  Ecod  !  it's  enough  to  make 
a  man  stare,  to  see  a  fellow  looking  at  him  all  of  a  sudden, 
who  he  thought  was  sixty  or  seventy  mile  away." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  No  doubt  of  it,  my  dear 
Mr.  Jonas.  For  while  the  human  mind  is  constituted  as  it 
is—" 

"  Oh  bother  the  human  mind,"  interrupted  Jonas  with  im- 
patience, "  what  have  you  come  up  for  ?  " 

"  A  little  matter  of  business,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  which 
has  arisen  quite  unexpectedly." 

"Oh!"  cried  Jonas,  "istiiat  all?  Well.  Here's  father 
in  the  next  room.  Hallo  father,  here's  Pecksniff!  He  gets 
more  addle-pated  every  day  he  lives,  I  do  believe,"  muttered 
Jonas,  shaking  his  honored  parent  roundly.  "  Don't  I  tell 
you  Pecksniff's  here,  stupid  head  .''  " 

The  combined  effects  of  the  shaking  and  this  lovino"  re- 
monstrance  soon  awoke  the  old  man,  who  gave  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff a  chuckling  welcome,  which  was  attributable  in  part  to 
his  being  glad  to  see  that  gentleman,  and  in  part  to  his 
unfading  delight  in  the  recollection  of  having  called  him  a 
hypocrite.  As  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  yet  taken  tea  (indeed 
he  had,  but  an  hour  before,  arrived  in  London)  the  remains 
of  the  late  collation,  with  a  rasher  of  bacon,  were  ser\ed  up 
for  his  enlertaimnent ;  and  as  Mr.  Jonas  had  a  business  ap- 
pointment in  the  next  street,  he  stepped  out  to  keep  it,  prom- 
ising to  return  before  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  finish  his  repast. 


2o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  And  now,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  Anthony, 
*'  now  that  we  are  alone,  pray  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you. 
I  say  alone,  because  I  believe  that  our  dear  friend  Mr.  Chuf- 
fey  is,  metaphysically  speaking,  a — shall  I  say  a  dummy  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  sweetest  smile,  and  his  head  very 
much  on  one  side. 

"  He  neither  hears  us,"  replied  Anthony,  "  nor  sees  us." 

"Why  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "I  will  be  bold  to  say, 
with  the  utmost  sympathy  for  his  afiflictions,  and  the  greatest 
admiration  of  those  excellent  qualities  which  do  equal  honor 
to  his  head  and  to  his  heart,  that  he  is  what  is  playfully  termed 
a  dummy.      You  were  going  to  obser\-e,  my  dear  sir — ?  " 

"  I  was  not  going  to  make  any  observation  that  I  know 
of,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"/was,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly. 

"  Oh  !  you  were  ?     What  was  it  ?  " 

"  That  I  never,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  previously  rising  to 
see  that  the  door  was  shut,  and  arranging  his  chair  when  he 
came  back,  so  that  it  could  not  be  opened  in  the  least  without 
his  immediately  becoming  aware  of  the  circumstance — "  that 
I  never  in  my  life  was  so  astonished  as  by  the  receipt  of  your 
letter  yesterday.  That  you  should  do  me  the  honor  to  wish  to 
take  counsel  with  me  on  any  matter,  amazed  me  ;  but  that  you 
should  desire  to  do  so,  to  the  exclusion  even  of  Mr.  Jonas, 
showed  an  amount  of  confidence  in  one  to  whom  you  had 
done  a  verbal  injury,  merely  a  verbal  injury  you  were  anxious 
to  repair,  which  gratified,  which  moved,  which  overcame  me." 

He  was  always  a  glib  speaker,  but  he  delivered  this  short 
address  very  glibly,  having  been  at  some  jjains  to  compose  it 
outside  the  coach. 

Although  he  paused  for  a  reply,  and  truly  said  that  he  was 
there  at  Anthony's  request,  the  old  man  sat  gazing  at  him  in 
profound  silence  and  with  a  perfectly  blank  face.  Nor  did 
he  seem  to  have  the  least  desire  or  impulse  to  pursue  the  con- 
versation, though  Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  towards  the  door,  and 
pulled  out  his  watch,  and  gave  him  many  other  hints  that 
their  time  was  short,  and  Jonas,  if  he  kept  his  word,  would 
soon  return.  But  the  strangest  incident  in  all  this  strange 
behavior  was,  that  of  a  sudden,  in  a  moment,  so  swiftly  that 
it  was  impossible  to  trace  how,  or  to  observe  any  process  of 
change  his  features  fell  into  their  old  expression,  and  he  cried, 
striking  his  hand  passionately  upon  the  table  as  if  no  interval 
at  all  had  taken  place  : 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


309 


**  Will  you  hold  your  tongue,  sir,  and  let  me  speak  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  deferred  to  him  with  a  submissive  bow  ; 
and  said  within  himself,  "  I  knew  his  hand  was  changed,  and 
that  his  writing  staggered.  I  said  so  yesterday.  Ahem ! 
Dear  me  !  " 

"Jonas  is  sweet  upon  your  daughter,  Pecksniff,"  said  the 
old  man,  in  his  usual  tone. 

"  We  spoke  of  that,  if  3-ou  remember  sir,  at  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers's,"  replied  the  courteous  architect. 

"  You  needn't  speak  so  loud,"  retorted  Anthony.  "  I'm 
not  so  deaf  as  that." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  certainly  raised  his  voice  pretty  high  ; 
not  so  much  because  he  thought  Anthony  was  deaf,  as  be- 
cause he  felt"  convinced  that  his  perceptive  faculties  were 
waxing  dim  ;  but  this  quick  resentment  of  his  considerate  be- 
havior greatly  disconcerted  him,  and,  not  knowing  what  tack 
to  shape  his  course  upon,  he  made  another  inclination  of  the 
head,  yet  more  submissive  than  the  last. 

"  I  have  said,"  repeated  the  old  man,  "  that  Jonas  is  sweet 
upon  your  daughter." 

"A  charming  girl,  sir,"  murmured  Mr.  Pecksniff,  seeing 
that  he  waited  for  an  answer.  "  A  dear  girl,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit,  though  I  say  it  who  should  not." 

"  You  know  better,"  cried  the  old  man,  advancing  his 
weazen  face  at  least  a  yard,  and  starting  forward  in  his  chair 
to  do  it.  "  You  lie  !  What,  you  will  be  a  hypocrite,  will 
you  ?  " 

"  My  good  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  began. 

"  Don't  call  me  a  good  sir,"  retorted  Anthony,  "  and  don't 
claim  to  be  one  yourself.  If  \o\\x  daughter  was  what  you 
would  have  me  believe,  she  wouldn't  do  for  Jonas.  Being 
what  she  is,  I  think  she  will.  He  might  be  deceived  in  a 
wife.  She  might  run  riot,  contract  debts,  and  waste  his  sub- 
stance.    Now  when  I  am  dead — " 

His  face  altered  so  horribly  as  he  said  the  wortl,  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  really  was  fain  to  look  another  way. 

" — It  will  be  worse  for  me  to  know  of  such  doings,  than 
if  I  was  alive  ;  for  to  be  tormented  for  getting  that  together, 
which  even  while  I  suffer  for  its  acquisition  is  fiung  into  the 
very  kennels  of  the  streets,  would  be  insupportable  torture. 
No,"  said  the  old  man,  hoarsely,  "  let  that  be  saved  at 
least ;  let  there  be  something  gained,  and  kept  fast  hold  of, 
when  so  much  is  lost." 


3 1  o  MARTIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 

'*  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksnifif,  "  these  are 
unwholesome  fancies  ;  quite  unnecessary,  sir,  quite  uncalled 
for,  I  am  sure.  The  truth  is,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  are  not 
well !  " 

"  Not  dying  though  !  "  cried  Anthony,  with  something  like 
the  snarl  of  a  wild  animal.  "  Not  yet !  There  are  years  of 
life  in  me.  Why,  look  at  him,"  pointing  to  his  feeble  clerk. 
"  Death  has  no  right  to  leave  him  standing,  and  to  mow  me 
down  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  so  much  afraid  of  the  old  man,  and  so 
completely  taken  aback  by  the  state  in  which  he  found  him, 
that  he  had  not  even  presence  of  mind  enough  to  call  up  a 
scrap  of  morality  from  the  great  storehouse  within  his  own 
breast.  Therefore  he  stammered  out  that  no  doubt  it  was,  in 
fairness  and  decency,  Mr.  Chuffey's  turn  to  expire  ;  and  that 
from  all  he  had  heard  of  Mr.  Chuffey,  and  the  little  he  had 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  of  that  gentleman,  personally,  he  felt 
con\inced  in  his  own  mind  that  he  would  see  the  propriety  of 
expiring  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

"  Come  here  !  "  said  the  old  man,  beckoning  him  to  draw 
nearer.  "  Jonas  will  be  my  heir,  Jonas  will  be  rich,  and  a 
great  catch  for  you.  You  know  that.  Jonas  is  sweet  upon 
your  daughter." 

"  I  know  that  too,"  thought  Mr.  Pecksniif,  "  for  you  have 
said  it  often  enough." 

"  He  might  get  more  money  than  with  her,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  but  she  will  help  him  to  take  care  of  what  they  have. 
She  is  not  too  young  or  heedless,  and  comes  of  a  good  hard 
griping  stock.  But  don't  you  play  too  fine  a  game.  She  only 
holds  him  by  a  thread  ;  and  if  you  draw  it  too  tight  (I  know 
his  temper)  it'll  snap.  Bind  him  when  he's  in  the  mood, 
Pecksniff;  bind  him.  You're  too  deep.  In  your  way  of  lead- 
ing him  on,  and  you'll  leave  him  miles  behind.  Bah,  you  man 
of  oil,  have  I  no  eyes  to  see  how  you  have  angled  with  him 
from  the  first  ?  " 

"  Now  I  wonder,"  thought  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  at  him 
with  a  wistful  face,  "whether  this  is  all  he  has  to  say  !  " 

Old  Anthony  rubbed  his  hands  and  muttered  to  himself; 
complained  again  that  he  was  cold  ;  drew  his  chair  before  the 
fire  ;  and,  sitting  with  his  back  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  his  chin 
sunk  down  upon  his  breast,  was,  in  another  minute,  quite  re- 
gardless or  forgetful  of  his  presence. 

Uncouth  and   unsatisfactory  as  this  short  interview  had 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  U  'IT.  3 1 1 

been,  it  had  furnished  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a  hint  which,  sup- 
posing nothing  further  were  imparted  to  him,  repaid  the  jour- 
ney up,  and  home  again.  For  the  good  gentleman  had  never 
(for  want  of  an  opportunity)  dived  into  the  depths  of  Mr. 
Jonas's  nature  ;  and  any  recipe  for  catching  such  a  son-in-law 
(much  more,  one  written  on  a  leaf  out  of  his  own  father's  book) 
was  worth  the  having.  In  order  that  he  might  lose  no  chance 
of  improving  so  fair  an  opportunity  by  allowing  Anthony  to 
fall  asleep  before  he  had  finished  all  he  had  to  say,  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, in  the  disposal  of  the  refreshments  on  the  table,  a  work 
to  which  he  now  applied  himself  in  earnest,  resorted  to  many 
ingenious  contrivances  for  attracting  his  attention  :  such  as 
coughing,  sneezing,  clattering  the  tea-cups,  sharpening  the 
knives,  dropping  the  loaf  and  so  forth.  But  all  in  vain,  for 
Mr.  Jonas  returned,  and  Anthony  had  said  no  more. 

"  What !  My  father  asleep  again  .?  "  he  cried,  as  he  hung 
up  his  hat,  and  cast  a  look  at  him.  "  Ah  !  and  snoring.  Only 
hear  !  " 

"  He  snores  very  deep,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Snores  deep  ?"  repeated  Jonas.  "Yes;  let  him  alone 
for  that.     He'll  snore  for  six,  at  any  time." 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Pecksniff,  "  that  I  think 
your  father  is — don't  let  me  alarm  you — breaking  ?  " 

"Oh,  is  he  though  ?  "  replied  Jonas,  with  a  shake  of  the 
head  which  expressed  the  closeness  of  his  dutiful  observation. 
"  Ecod,  you  don't  know  how  tough  he  is.  He  ain't  upon  the 
move  yet." 

"  It  struck  me  that  he  was  changed,  both  in  his  appear- 
ance and  manner,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  That's  all  you  know  about  it,"  returned  Jonas,  seating 
himself  with  a  melancholy  air.  "lie  never  was  better  than 
he  is  now.     How  are  they  all  at  home  >     How's  Charity  ?  " 

"  Blooming,  Mr.  Jonas,  blooming." 

"  And  the  other  one  ;  how's  she  ?  " 

"  Volatile  triiier  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  fondly  musing. 
"  She  is  well,  she  is  well.  Roving  from  parlor  to  bed-room, 
Mr.  Jonas,  like  the  bee  ;  skimming  from  post  to  pillar,  like  the 
butterfly  ;  dipping  her  young  beak  into  our  currant  wine,  like 
the  humming-bird  !  Ah  !  were  she  a  little  less  giddy  than  she 
is,  and  had  she  but  the  sterling  qualities  of  Cherry,  my  young 
friend  !  " 

"  Is  she  so  very  gidd)^  then  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Well,  well  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  witli  great  feeling ;  "  let 


3 1 2  -7///  ^  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 

me  not  be  hard  upon  my   child.     Beside  her  sister  Cherry 
she  appears  so.     A  strange  noise  that,  Mr.  Jonas  !  " 

"  Something  wrong  in  the  dock,  I  suppose,"  said  Jonas, 
glancing  towards  it.  "  So  the  other  one  ain't  your  favorite, 
ain't  she  ?  " 

The  fond  father  was  about  to  reply,  and  had  already  sum- 
moned into  his  face  a  look  of  most  intense  sensibility,  when 
the  sound  he  had  already  noticed  was  repeated. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Jonas,  that  is  a  very  extraordinary 
clock,"  said  Pecksniff. 

It  would  have  been,  if  it  had  made  the  noise  which  startled 
them,  but  another  kind  of  time-piece  was  fast  running  down, 
and  from  that  the  sound  proceeded.  A  scream  from  Chuffey, 
rendered  a  hundred  time  more  loud  and  formidable  by  his 
silent  habits,  made  the  house  ring  from  roof  to  cellar ;  and, 
looking  round,  they  saw  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  extended  on 
the  floor,  with  the  old  clerk  upon  his  knees  beside  him. 

He  had  fallen  from  his  chair  in  a  fit,  and  lay  there,  battling 
for  each  gasp  of  breath,  with  every  shrivelled  vein  and  sinew 
starting  in  its  place,  as  if  it  were  bent  on  bearing  witness  to 
his  age,  and  sternly  pleading  with  Nature  against  his  recovery. 
It  was  frightful  to  see  how  the  principle  of  life,  shut  up  within 
his  withered  frame,  fought  like  a  strong  devil,  mad  to  be  re- 
leased, and  rent  its  ancient  prison-house.  A  young  man  in 
the  fulness  of  his  vigor,  struggling  with  so  much  strength  of 
desperation,  would  have  been  a  dismal  sight ;  but  an  old,  old, 
shrunken  body,  endowed  with  preternatural  might,  and  giving 
the  lie  in  e\ery  motion  of  its  ever}'  limb  and  joint  to  its  en- 
feebled aspect,  was  a  hideous  spectacle  indeed. 

They  raised  him  up,  and  fetched  a  surgeon  with  all  haste, 
who  bled  the  patient  and  applied  some  remedies  ;  but  the  fits 
held  him  so  long,  that  it  was  past  midnight  w'hen  they  got 
him,  quiet  now,  lout  quite  unconscious  and  exhausted,  into 
bed. 

"  Don't  go,"  said  Jonas,  putting  his  ashy  lips  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's ear,  and  whispering  across  the  bed.  "It  was  a  mercy 
you  \;ere  present  when  he  was  taken  ill.  Some  one  might 
have  3aid  it  was  my  doing.' 

"  Your  doing  !  ''  cried"  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  don't  know  but  they  might."  he  replied,  wiping  the 
moisture  from  his  white  face.  "  People  say  such  things. 
How  does  he  look  now  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


313 


"I  used  to  joke,  you  know,"  said  Jonas  ;  "but  I — I  never 
wished  him  dead.-     Do  you  think  he's  very  Jaad  ?  " 

"The  doctor  said  he  was.  You  heard,"  was  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's answer. 

"  Ah  !  but  he  might  say  that  to  charge  us  more,  in  case  of 
his  getting  well,"  said  Jonas.  "  You  musn't  go  away,  Peck- 
sniff. Now  it's  come  to  this,  I  wouldn't  be  without  a  witness 
for  a  thousand  pound." 

Chuffey  said  not  a  word,  and  heard  not  a  word.  He  had 
sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  at  the  bedside,  and  there  he  re-, 
mained,  motionless  ;  except  that  he  sometimes  bent  his  head 
over  the  pillow,  and  seemed  to  listen.  He  never  changed  in 
this.  Though  once  in  the  dreary  night  Mr.  Pecksniff,  having 
dozed,  awoke  \\'ith  a  confused  impression  that  he  had  heard 
him  praying,  and  strangely  mingling  figures,  not  of  speech, 
but  arithmetic,  with  his  broken  prayers. 

Jonas  sat  there,  too,  all  night  ;  not  where  his  father  could 
have  seen  him,  had  his  consciousness  returned,  but  hiding,  as 
it  were,  behind  him,  and  only  reading  how  he  looked,  in  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  eyes.  fL\  the  coarse  upstart,  who  had  ruled  the 
house  so  long  1  That  craven  cur,  who  was  afraid  to  move, 
and  shook  so,  that  his  very  shadow  fluttered  on  the  wall ! 

It  was  broad,  bright  stirring  day  when,  leaving  the  old 
clerk  to  watch  liim,  they  went  down  to  breakfast.  People  hur- 
ried up  and  down  the  street  ;  windows  and  doors  were  opened  ; 
thieves  and  beggars  took  their  usual  posts  ;  workmen  bestirred 
themselves  ;  tradesmen  set  forth  their  shops  ;  bailiffs  and 
constables  were  on  the  watch  ;  all  kinds  of  human  creatures 
strove  in  their  several  ways,  as  hard  to  live,  as  the  one  sick  old 
man  who  combated  for  every  grain  of  sand  in  his  fast-empty- 
ing glass,  as  eagerly  as  if  it  were  an  empire. 

"If  anything  happens,  Pecksniff,"  said  Jonas,  "you  must 
promise  me  to  stop  here  till  it's  all.  over.  You  shall  see  that 
I  do  what's  right." 

"I  know  that  you  will  do  what's  right,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said 
Pecksniff. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  won't  be  doubted.  No  one  shall  have  it 
in  his  power  to  say  a  syllabic  against  me,"  he  returned. 
"I  know  how  people  will  talk.  Just  as  if  he  wasn't  old,  or  I 
had  the  secret  of  keeping  him  alive  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  promised  that  he  would  remain,  if  circum- 
stances should  render  it,  in  his  esteemed  friend's  opinion, 
desirable  ;  they  were  finishing  their  meal    in   silence,  when 


314 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


suddenly  an  apparition  stood  before  them,  so  ghastly  to  the 
view,  that  Jonas  shrieked  aloud,  and  both  recoiled  in  horror. 

Old  Anthony,  dressed  in  his  usual  clothes,  was  in  the 
room — beside  the  table.  He  leaned  upon  the  shoulder  of  his 
solitary  friend  ;  and  on  his  livid  face,  and  on  his  horny  hands, 
and  in  his  glassy  eyes,  and  traced  by  an  eternal  finger  in  the 
very  drops  of  sweat  upon  his  brow,  was  one  word — Death. 

He  spoke  to  them,  in  something  of  his  own  voice  too, 
but  sharpened  and  made  hollow,  like  a  dead  man's  face. 
What  he  would  have  said,  God  knows.  He  seemed  to  utter 
words,  but  they  were  such  as  man  had  never  heard.  And 
this  was  the  most  fearful  circumstance  of  all,  to  see  him  stand- 
ing there,  gabbling  in  an  unearthly  tongue. 

"  He's  better  now,"  said  Chuffey.  "  Better  now.  Let 
him  sit  in  his  old  chair,  and  he'll  be  well  again.  I  told  him 
not  to  mind.     I  said  so,  yesterday." 

They  put  him  in  his  easy-chair,  and  wheeled  it  near  the 
window  ;  then,  setting  open  the  door,  exposed  him  to  the  free 
current  of  morning;  air.  But  not  all  the  air  that  is,  nor  all  the 
winds  that  ever  blew  'twixt  Heaven  and  Earth,  could  have 
brought  new  life  to  him. 

Plunge  him  to  the  throat  in  golden  pieces  now,  and  his 
heavy  fingers  shall  not  close  on  one  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  READER  IS  BROUGHT  INTO  COMMUNICATION  WITH  SOME 
PROFESSIONAL  PERSONS,  AND  SHEDS  A  TEAR  OVER  THE 
FILIAL    PIETY    OF    GOOD    MR.    JONAS. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  a  hackney  cabriolet,  for  Jonas 
Chuzzlewit  had  said  "  Spare  no  expense."  Mankind  is  evil 
in  its  thoughts  and  in  its  base  constructions,  and  Jonas  was 
resolved  it  should  not  have  an  inch  to  stretch  into  an  ell 
against  him.  It  never  should  be  charged  upon  his  father's 
son  that  he  had  grudged  the  money  for  his  father's  funeral. 
Hence,  until  the  obsequies  should  be  concluded,  Jonas  had 
taken  for  his  motto  "  Spend,  and  spare  not !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  to  the  undertaker,  and  was  now  upon 

V 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


315 


his  way  to  another  officer  in  the  train  of  mourning;  a  female 
functionary,  a  nurse,  and  watcher,  and  performer  of  nameless 
offices  about  the  persons  of  the  dead,  whom  he  had  recom- 
mended. Her  name,  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  gathered  from  a  scrap 
of  writing  in  his  hand,  was  Gamp  ;  her  residence  in  Kings- 
gate  Street,  High  Holborn.  So  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  hackney 
cab,  was  rattling  over  Holborn  stones,  in  quest  of  Mrs.  Gamp. 

This  lady  lodged  at  a  bird-fancier's,  next  door  but  one  to 
the  celebrated  mutton-pie  shop,  and  directly  opposite  to  the 
original  cat's-meat  warehouse  ;  the  renown  of  which  establish- 
ments was  duly  heralded  on  their  respective  fronts.  It  was  a 
little  house,  and  this  was  the  more  convenient ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp 
being  in  her  highest  walk  of  art,  a  monthly  nurse,  or,  as  her 
sign-board  boldly  liad  it,  "Midwife,"  and  lodging  in  the  first- 
floor  front,  was  easily  assailable  at  night  by  pebbles,  walking- 
sticks,  and  fragments  of  tobacco-pipe,  all  much  more  effica- 
cious than  the  street-door  knocker,  which  was  so  constructed 
as  to  wake  the  street  with  ease,  and  even  spread  alarms  of 
fire  in  Holborn,  without  making  the  smallest  impression  on 
the  premises  to  which  it  was  addressed. 

It  chanced  on  this  particular  occasion,  that  Mrs.  Gamp 
had  been  up  all  the  previous  night,  in  attendance  upon  a  cere- 
mony to  which  the  usage  of  gossips  has  given  that  name  which 
expresses,  in  two  syllables,  the  curse  pronounced  on  Adam. 
It  chanced  that  Mrs.  Gamp  had  not  been  regularly  engaged,  but 
had  been  called  in  at  a  crisis,  in  consequence  of  her  great  re- 
pute, to  assist  another  professional  lady  with  her  advice  ;  and 
thus  it  happened  that,  all  points  of  interest  in  the  case  being 
over,  Mrs.  Gamp  had  come  home  again  to  the  bird-fancier's, 
and  gone  to  bed.  So,  when  Mr.  I'ecksnilT  drove  up  in  the 
hackney  cab,  Mrs.  Gamp's  curtains  w-ere  drawn  close,  and 
Mrs.  Gamp  was  fast  asleep  behind  them. 

If  the  bird-fancier  had  been  at  home,  as  he  ought  to  have 
been,  there  would  have  been  no  great  harm  in  this  ;  but  he 
was  out,  and  his  shop  was  closed.  The  shutters  were  down 
certainly ;  and  in  every  pane  of  glass  there  was  at  least  one 
tiny  bird  in  a  tiny  bird-cage,  twittering  and  hopping  his  little 
ballet  of  despair,  and  knocking  his  head  against  the  roof  ; 
■while  one  unhappy  goldfinch  who  lived  outside  a  red  villa 
with  his  name  on  the  door,  drew  the  water  for  his  own  drink- 
ing, and  mutely  appealed  to  some  good  man  to  drop  a  far- 
things wortli  of  poison  in  it.  Still,  the  door  was  shut.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  tried  the  latch,  and  shook  it,  causing  a  cracked  bell 


3i6 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


inside  to  ring  most  mournfully ;  but  no  one  came.  The  bird- 
fancier  was  an  easy  shaver  also,  and  a  fashionable  hair-dresser 
also  ;  and  perhaps  he  had  been  sent  for,  express,  from  the 
court  end  of  the  town,  to  trim  a  lord,  or  cut  and  curl  a  lady ; 
but  however  that  might  be,  there,  upon  his  own  ground,  he 
was  not ;  nor  was  there  any  more  distinct  trace  of  him  to  as- 
sist the  imagination  of  an  inquirer,  than  a  professional  print 
or  emblem  of  his  calling  (much  favored  in  the  trade),  repre- 
senting a  hair-dresser  of  easy  manners  curling  a  lady  of  dis- 
tinguished fashion,  in  the  presence  of  a  patent  upright  grand 
pianoforte. 

Noting  these  circumstances,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  the  inno- 
cence of  his  heart,  applied  himself  to  the  knocker ;  but  at  the 
first  double  knock,  ever}^  window  in  the  street  became  alive 
with  female  heads  ;  and  before  he  could  repeat  the  perform- 
ance, whole  troops  of  married  ladies  (some  about  to  trouble 
Mrs.  Gamp  themselves,  ver)'  shortly)  came  flocking  round  the 
steps,  all  crying  out  with  one  accord,  and  with  uncommon  in- 
terest, "  Knock  at  the  winder,  sir,  knock  at  the  winder. 
Lord  bless  you,  don't  lose  no  more  time  than  you  can  help  ; 
knock  at  the  winder  !  " 

Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  and  borrowing  the  driver's 
whip  for  the  purpose,  Mr.  Pecksniff  soon  made  a  commotion 
among  the  first-floor  flower-pots,  and  roused  Mrs.  Gamp, 
whose  voice — to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  matrons — was 
heard  to  sav,  "  I'm  coming." 

"  He's  as  pale  as  a  muffin,"  said  one  lady,  ni  allusion  to 
Mr.  Pecksnifi". 

"  So  he  ought  to  be,  if  he's  the  feelings  of  a  man,"  ob- 
served another. 

A'  third  lady  (with  her  arms  folded)  said  she  wished  he 
had  chosen  any  other  time  for  fetching  Mrs.  Gamp,  but  it 
always  happened  so  with  her. 

It  gave  Mr.  Pecksniff  much  uneasiness  to  find,  from  these 
remarks,  that  he  was  supposed  to  have  come  to  Mrs.  Gamp 
upon  an  errand  touching — not  the  close  of  life,  but  the  other 
end.  Mrs.  Gamp  herself  was  under  the  same  impression,  for 
throwing  open  tlie  window,  she  cried  behind  the  curtains,  as 
she  hastily  attired  herself : 

"  Is  it  Mrs.  Perkins  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sharply.  '  Nothing  of 
the  sort." 

"  What,  Mr.  Whilks  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  Don't  say  it's 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


317 


you,  Mr.  Whilks,  and  that  poor  creetur  Mrs.  Whilks  with  not 
even  a  pincushion  ready.     Don't  say  it's  you,  Mr.  Whilks  !  " 

"  It  isn't  Mr.  Whilks,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  I  don't  know  the 
man.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  A  gentleman  is  dead  ;  and  some 
person  being  wanted  in  the  house,  you  have  been  recommended 
by  Mr.  Mould  the  undertaker." 

As  she  was  by  this  time  in  a  condition  to  appear,  Mrs. 
Gamp,  who  had  a  face  for  all  occasions,  looked  out  of  the 
window  with  her  mourning  countenance,  and  said  she  would 
be  down  directly.  But  the  matrons  took  it  very  ill,  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  mission  was  of  so  unimportant  a  kind  ;  and  the 
'aly  with  her  arms  folded  rated  him  in  good  round  terms, 
signifying  that  she  would  be  glad  to  know  what  he  meant  by 
terrifying  delicate  females  "with  his  corpses  ;"  and  giving  it 
as  her  opinion  that  he  was  quite  ugly  enough  to  know  better. 
The  other  ladies  were  not  at  all  behind-hand  in  expressing 
similar  sentiments  ;  and  the  children,  of  whom  some  scores 
had  now  collected,  hooted  and  defied  Mr.  Pecksniff  quite  sav- 
agely. So,  when  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared,  the  unoffending  gentle- 
man was  glad  to  hustle  her  with  very  little  ceremony  into  the 
cabriolet,  and  drive  off,  overwhelmed  with  popular  execration. 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  a  large  bundle  with  her,  a  pair  of  ])attens, 
and  a  species  of  gig  umbrella  ;  the  latter  article  in  color  like 
a  faded  leaf,  except  where  a  circular  patch  of  a  lively  blue  had 
been  dexterously  let  in  at  the  top.  She  was  much  flurried  by 
the  haste  she  had  made,  and  labored  under  the  most  erro- 
neous views  of  cabriolets,  which  she  appeared  to  confound  with 
mail-coaches  or  stage-wagons,  inasmuch  as  she  was  con- 
stantly endeavoring  for  the  first  half  mile  to  force  her  luggage 
through  the  little  front  window,  and  clamoring  to  the  dri\cr 
to  "  put  it  in  the  boot."'  When  she  was  disabused  of  this 
idea,  her  whole  being  resolved  itself  intf)  an  absorbing  anxiety 
about  her  pattens,  with  which  she  played  innumerable  games 
at  quoits,  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's  legs.  It  was  not  until  they 
were  close  upon  the  house  of  mourning  that  she  had  enough 
composure  to  observe  : 

"  And  so  the  gentleman's  dead,  sir!  Ah!  The  more's 
the  pity."  She  didn't  even  know  his  name.  "  Put  it's  what  we 
must  all  come  to.  It's  as  certain  as  being  born,  except  that 
we  can't  make  our  calculations  as  exact.     Ah  !     Poor  dear!  " 

She  was  a  fat  old  woman,  this  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  husky 
voice  and  a  moist  eye,  which  she  had  a  remarkable  power  of 
turning  up,  and  only  showing  the  white  of  it.     Having  very 


3 1 8  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

little  neck,  it  cost  her  some  trouble  to  look  over  herself,  if 
one  may  say  so,  at  those  to  whom  she  talked.  She  wore  a 
very  rusty  black  gown,  rather  the  worse  for  snuff,  and  a  shawl 
and  bonnet  to  correspond.  In  these  dilapidated  articles  of 
dress  she  had,  on  principle,  arrayed  herself,  time  out  of  mind, 
on  such  occasions  as  the  present ;  for  this  at  once  expressed 
a  decent  amount  of  veneration  for  the  deceased,  and  invited 
the  next  of  kin  to  present  her  with  a  fresher  suit  of  weeds,  an 
appeal  so  frequently  successful,  that  the  very  fetch  and  ghost 
of  Mrs.  Gamp,  bonnet  and  all,  might  be  seen  hanging  up,  any 
hour  in  the  day,  in  at  least  a  dozen  of  the  second-hand  clothes 
shops  about  Holborn.  The  face  of  Mrs.  Gamp — the  nose  in 
particular — was  somewhat  red  and  swollen,  and  it  was  difficult 
to  enjoy  her  society  without  becoming  conscious  of  a  smell  "of 
spirits.  Like  most  persons  who  have  attained  to  great  emi- 
nence in  their  profession,  she  took  to  hers  very  kindly  ;  inso- 
much, that  setting  aside  her  natural  predilections  as  a  woman, 
she  went  to  a  lying-in  or  a  laying-out  with  equal  zest  and 
relish. 

"  Ah  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Gamp ;  for  it  was  always  a  safe 
sentiment  in  cases  of  mourning.  "  Ah  dear  !  When  Gamp 
was  summoned  to  his  long  home,  and  I  see  him  a  lying  in 
Guy's  Hospital  with  a  penny-piece  on  each  eye,  and  his  wooden 
leg  under  his  left  arm,  I  thought  I  should  have  fainted  away. 
But  I  bore  up." 

If  certain  whispers  current  in  the  Kingsgate  Street  circles 
had  any  truth  in  them,  she  had  indeed  borne  up  surprisingly  ; 
and  had  exerted  such  uncommon  fortitude,  as  to  dispose  of 
Mr.  Gamp's  remains  for  the  benefit  of  science.  But  it  should 
be  added,  in  fairness,  that  this  had  happened  twenty  years 
before  ;  and  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamp  had  long  been  separa- 
ted, on  the  ground  of  incompatibility  of  temper  in  their  drink. 

"You  have  become  indifferent  since  then,  I  suppose .'"' 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  Use  is  second  nature,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"You  may  well  say  second  nater,  sir,"  returned  that  lady. 
"One's  first  ways  is  to  find  sich  things  a  trial  to  the  feelings, 
and  so  is  one's  lasting  custom.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  nerve  a 
littk  sip  of  liquor  gives  me  (I  never  was  able  to  do  more  than 
taste  it),  I  never  could  go  through  with  what  I  sometimes  has 
to  do.  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says,  at  the  very  last  case  as  ever  I 
acted  in,  which  it  was  but  a  young  person,  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I 
says,  '  leave  the  bottle  on  the  chimley-piece,  and  don't  ask  me 
to  take  none,  but  let  me  put  my  lips  to  it  when  I  am  so  dis- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLFAVIT. 


319 


poged,  and  then  I  will  do  what  I'm  engaged  to  do,  according 
to  the  best  of  my  ability.'  '  Mrs.  Gamp,'  she  says,  in  answer, 
'  if  ever  there  was  a  sober  creetur  to  be  got  at  eighteen  pence 
a  day  for  working  people,  and  three  and  six  for  gentlefolks — 
night  watching,'  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  emphasis,  "  'being  a 
extra  charge — you  are  that  inwallable  person.'  '  Mrs.  Harris,' 
I  says  to  her,  'don't  name  the  charge,  for  if  I  could  afford  to 
lay  all  my  fellow-creeturs  out  for  nothink,  I  would  gladly  do 
it,  sich  is  the  love  I  bears  'em.  But  what  I  always  says  to 
them  as  has  the  management  of  matters,  Mrs.  Harris  ' " — 
here  she  kept  her  eye  on  Mr.  Pecksniff — " '  be  they  gents  or 
be  they  ladies,  is,  don't  ask  me  whether  I  won't  take  none,  or 
whether  I  will,  but  leave  the  bottle  on  the  chimley-piece,  and 
let  me  put  mydips  to  it  when  I  am  so  dispoged. '  " 

The  conclusion  of  this  affecting  narrative  brought  them  to 
the  house.  In  the  passage  they  encountered  Mr.  Mould  the 
undertaker — a  little  elderly  gentleman,  bald,  and  in  a  suit  of 
black — with  a  note-book  in  his  hand,  a  massive  gold  watch- 
chain  dangling  from  his  fob,  and  a  face  in  which  a  queer  at- 
tempt at  melancholy  was  at  odds  with  a  smirk  of  satisfaction  ; 
so  that  he  looked  as  a  man  might,  who,  in  the  very  act  of 
smacking  his  lips  over  choice  old  wine,  tried  to  make  believe 
it  was  physic. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Gamp,  and  how  are  you^  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  "  said 
this  gentleman,  in  a  voice  as  soft  as  his  step. 

"Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  dropping  a  curtsey. 

"  You'll  be  very  particular  here,  Mrs.  Gamp.  This  is  not 
a  common  case,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Let  every  thing  be  very  nice  and 
comfortable,  Mrs.  Gamp,  if  you  please,"  said  the  undertaker, 
shaking  his  head  with  a  solemn  air. 

"  It  shall  be,  sir,"  she  replied,  curtseying  again.  "  You 
knows  me  of  old,  sir,  I  hope." 

"I  hope  so,  too,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  the  undertaker;  "and 
I  think  so,  also."  Mrs.  Gamp  curtseyed  again.  "This  is  one 
of  the  most  impressive  cases,  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that  I  have  seen  in  the  whole  course  of  my 
professional  experience." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Mould  !  "  cried  that  gentleman. 

"  Such  affectionate  regret,  sir,  I  never  saw.  There  is  no 
limitation,  there  is  positively  no  limitation  " — opening  his 
eyes  wide,  and  standing  on  tiptoe — "  in  point  of  expense  !  I 
have  orders,  sir  !  to  put  on  my  whole  establishment  of  mutes  ; 
and  mutes  come  very  dear,  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  not  to  mention  their 


320 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


drink.  To  provide  silver-plated  handles  of  the  very  best  de- 
scription, ornamented  with  angels'  heads  from  the  most  expen- 
sive dies.  To  be  perfectly  profuse  in  feathers.  In  short,  sir, 
to  turn  out  something  absolutely  gorgeous." 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Jonas  is  an  excellent  man,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  what  is  filial  in  my  time,  sir," 
retorted  Mould,  "  and  what  is  unfilial  too.  It  is  our  lot.  We 
come  into  the  knowledge  of  those  secrets.  But  anything  so 
filial  as  this  ;  anything  so  honorable  to  human  nature  ;  so 
calculated  to  reconcile  all  of  us  to  the  world  we  live  in  ; 
never  yet  cam:^  under  my  observation.  It  only  proves,  sir, 
what  was  so  forcibly  observed  by  the  lamented  theatrical 
poet — buried  at  Stratford — that  there  is  good  in  everything."" 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr.  Mould,"  ob- 
served Pecksniff. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir.  And  what  a  man  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit  was,  sir !  Ah  !  what  a  man  he  was.  You  may  talk  of 
your  lord  mayors,"  said  Mould,  waving  his  hand  at  the  public 
in  general,  "  your  sheriffs,  your  common  councilmen,  your 
trumpery  ;  but  show  me  a  man  in  this  city  who  is  worthy  to 
walk  in  the  shoes  of  the  departed  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  No,  no," 
cried  Mould,  with  bitter  sarcasm.  "  Hang  'em  up,  hang  'em 
up  ;  sole  'em  and  heel  'em,  and  have  'em  ready  for  his  son 
against  he's  old  enough  to  wear  'em  ;  but  don't  try  'em  on 
yourselves,  for  they  won't  fit  you.  We  knew  him,"  said 
Mould,  in  the  same  biting  vein,  as  he  pocketed  his  note-book  ; 
"  we  knew  him,  and  are  not  to  be  caught  with  chaff.  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  sir,  good-morning." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  the  compliment ;  and  Mould, 
sensible  of  having  distinguished  himself,  was  going  away  w-ith 
a  brisk  smile,  when  he  fortunately  remembered  the  occasion. 
Quickly  becoming  depressed  again,  he  sighed  ;  looked  into 
the  crown  of  his  hat,  as  if  for  comfort ;  put  it  on  without 
finding  any  ;  and  slowly  departed. 

Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  then  ascended  the  staircase  ; 
and  the  former,  having  been  shown  to  the  chamber  in  which 
all  that  remained  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  lay  covered  up,  with 
but  one  loving  heart,  and  that  a  halting  one,  to  mourn  it,  left 
the  latter  free  to  enter  the  darkened  room  below^,  and  rejoin 
Mr.  Jonas,  from  whom  he  had  now  been  absent  nearly  two 
hours. 

He  found  that  example  to  bereaved  sons  and  pattern  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


321 


the  eyes  of  all  performers  of  funerals,  musing  over  a  fragment 
of  writing-paper  on  the  desk,  and  scratching  figures  on  it  with 
a  pen.  The  old  man's  chair,  and  hat,  and  walking-stick,  were 
removed  from  their  accustomed  places,  and  put  out  of  sight ; 
the  wdndow-blinds,  as  yellow  as  November  fogs,  were  drawn 
down  close  ;  Jonas  himself  was  so  subdued,  that  he  could 
scarcely  be  heard  to  speak,  and  only  seen  to  w-alk  across  the 
room. 

"  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  you  shall  have  the 
regulation  of  it  all,  mind !  You  shall  be  able  to  tell  anybody 
who  talks  about  it  that  everything  was  correctly  and  freely 
done.  There  isn't  any  one  you'd  like  to  ask  to  the  funeral, 
is  there .-' " 

"  No,  Mr.  J.onas,  I  think  not." 

"  Because  if  there  is,  you  know,"  said  Jonas,  "  ask  him. 
We  don't  want  to  make  a  secret  of  it." 

"  No,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  little  reflection. 
"  I  am  not  the  less  obliged  to  you  on  that  account,  Mr. 
Jonas,  for  your  liberal  hospitality  ;  but  there  really  is  no  one." 

''  Very  well,"  said  Jonas  ;  '"  then  you,  and  I,  and  Chuffey, 
and  the  doctor,  will  be  just  a  coachful.  We'll  have  the  doctor, 
Pecksniff,  because  he  knows  what  was  the  matter  with  him, 
and  that  it  couldn't  be  helped." 

"  Where  is  our   dear  friend,  Mr.  Chuffev  .-' "  asked  Peck 
sniff,  looking  round   the   chamber,  and  winking  both  his  eyes 
at  once.     For  he  was  overcome  by  his  feelings. 

But  here  he  was  interrupted  by  Mr'^.  Ga  iip,  who,  divested 
of  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  came  sidling  and  bridling  into  the 
room  ;  and  with  some  sharpness,  demanded  a  conference  out- 
side the  door  with  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  may  say  whatever  you  wish  to  say  here,  Mrs.  Gamp," 
said  that  gentleman,  shaking  his  head  with  a  melancholy  ex- 
pression. 

"  It  is  not  much  as  1  have  to  say,  when  people  is  a  mourn- 
ing for  the  dead  and  gone,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  but  what  I  have 
to  say  is  to  the  pint  and  purpose,  and  no  offence  intended, 
must  be  so  considered.  I  have  been  at  a  many  places  in  my 
time,  gentlemen,  and  I  hope  I  knows  what  my  duties  is,  and 
how  the  same  should  be  performed  :  in  course,  if  I  did  not, 
it  would  be  very  strange,  and  very  wrong  in  sich  a  gentleman 
as  Mr.  Mould,  which  has  undertook  the  highest  families  in 
this  land,  and  given  every  satisfaction,  so  to  recommend  me 
as  he  does.     I   have  seen  a  deal  of  trouble  my  own  self," 

21 


322 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


said  Mrs.  Gamp,  laying  greater  and  greater  stress  upon  her 
words,  "  and  I  can  feel  for  them  as  has  their  feelings  tried, 
but  I  am  not  a  Rooshan  or  a  Prooshan,  and  consequently 
cannot  suffer  spies  to  be  set  over  me." 

Before  it  was  possible  that  an  answer  could  be  returned, 
Mrs.  Gamp,  growing  redder  in  the  face,  went  on  to  say : 

"  It  is  not  a  easy  matter,  gentlemen,  to  live  when  you  are 
left  a  widder  woman  ;  particular  when  your  feelings  works 
upon  you  to  that  extent  that  you  often  find  yourself  a  going 
out,  on  terms  which  is  a  certain  loss,  and  never  can  repay. 
But,  in  whatever  way  you  earns  your  bread,  you  may  have 
rules  and  regulations  of  your  own,  which  cannot  be  broke 
through.  Some  people,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  again  entrenching 
herself  behind  her  strong  point,  as  if  it  were  not  assailable  by 
human  ingenuity,  "  may  be  Rooshans,  and  others  may  be 
I'rooshans ;  they  are  born  so,  and  will  please  themselves. 
Them  which  is  of  other  naturs  thinks  different." 

"  If  I  understand  this  good  lady,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turn- 
ing to  Jonas,  "  Mr.  Chuffey  is  troublesome  to  her.  Shall  I 
fetch  him  down  ?  " 

"  Do,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  was  going  to  tell  you  he  was  up 
there,  when  she  came  in.  I'd  go  myself  and  bring  him  down, 
only — only  I'd  rather  you  went,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  promptly  departed,  followed  by  Mrs.  Gamp, 
who,  seeing  that  he  took  a  bottle  and  glass  from  the  cupboard, 
and  carried  it  in  his  hand,  was  much  softened. 

"  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  if  it  wasn't  for  his  own  hap- 
piness, I  should  no  more  mind  his  being  there,  poor  dear, 
than  if  he  was  a  fiv.  But  them  as  isn't  used  to  these  thing's, 
thinks  so  much  of  'em  afterwards,  that  it's  a  kindness  to  'em 
not  to  let  'em  have  their  wish.  And  even,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
probably  in  reference  to  some  flowers  of  speech  she  had 
already  strewn  on  Mr.  Chuffey,  "even  if  one  calls  'em  names, 
it's  only  done  to  rouse  'em." 

Whatever  epithets  she  had  bestowed  on  the  old  clerk,  they 
had  not  roused  him.  He  sat  beside  the  bed,  in  the  chair  he 
had  occupied  all  the  previous  night,  with  his  hands  folded 
before  him,  and  his  head  bowed  down  ;  and  neither  looked 
up,  on  their  entrance,  nor  gave  any  sign  of  consciousness, 
until  Mr.  I'ecksniff  took  him  by  the  arm,  w-hen  he  meekly 
rose. 

"Three  score  and  ten,"  said  Chuffey,  "ought  and  carry 
seven.     Some  men  are  so  strong  that  they  live   to  four  score 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Z'2Z 


— four  times  ought's  an  ought,  four  times  two's  an  eight — 
eightv.  Oh  !  why — why — why — didn't  he  live  to  four  times 
ought's  an  ought,  and  four  times  two's  an  eight,  eighty  ?  " 

"Ah!  what  a  wale  of  grief!  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  possess- 
ing herself  of  the  bottle  and  glass. 

''  Why  did  he  die  before  his  poor  old  crazy  servant !  "  said 
Chuffey,  clasping  his  hands  and  looking  up  in  anguish.  "  Take 
him  from  me,  and  what  remains  .''  " 

"  Mr.  Jonas,"  returned  Pecksniff,  "  Mr.  Jonas,  mv  good 
friend." 

"1  loved  him,"  cried  the  old  man,  weeping.  "He  was 
good  to  me.  We  learnt  Tare  and  Tret  together,  at  school.  I 
took  him  down  once,  six  boys,  in  the  arithmetic  class.  God 
forgive  me  !     Had  1  the  heart  to  take  him  down  !  " 

"Come,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Pecksniff.  "Come  with  me. 
Summon  up  your  fortitude,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"Yes,  I  will,"  returned  the  old  clerk.  "Yes.  Til  sum  up 
mv  forty — How  many  times  forty — Oh,  Chuzzlewit  and  Son 
— Your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ;  your  own  son,  sir  !  " 

He  yielded  to  the  hand  that  guided  him,  as  he  lapsed  into 
this  familiar  expression,  and  sul:»mitted  to  be  led  away.  Mrs. 
Gamp,  with  the  bottle  on  one  knee,  and  the  glass  in  the  other, 
sat  upon  a  stool,  shaking  her  head  for  a  long  time,  until,  in  a 
moment  of  abstraction,  she  poured  out  a  dram  of  spirits,  and 
raised  it  to  her  lips.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  second,  and  by  a 
third,  and  then  her  eyes — either  in  the  sadness  of  her  reflec- 
tions upon  life  and  death,  or  in  her  admiration  of  the  liquor 
— were  so  turned  up,  as  to  be  quite  invisible.  But  she  shook 
her  head  still. 

Poor  Chuffey  was  conducted  to  his  accustomed  corner,  and 
there  he  remained,  silent  and  quiet,  save  at  long  intervals, 
when  he  would  rise,  and  walk  about  the  room,  and  wring  his 
hands,  or  raise  some  strange  and  sudden  zxn.  For  a  whole 
week  they  all  three  sat  about  the  hearth  and  never  stirred 
abroad.  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  walked  out  in  the  evening 
time,  but  Mr.  Jonas  was  so  averse  to  his  being  absent  for  a 
minute,  that  he  abandoned  the  idea,  and  so,  from  morning 
until  night,  they  brooded  together  in  the  dark  room,  without 
relief  or  occupation. 

The  weight  of  that  which  was  stretched  out,  stiff  and  stark, 
in  the  awful  chamber  above-stairs,  so  crushed  and  bore  down 
Jonas,  that  he  bent  beneath  the  load.  During  the  whole  long 
seven  days  and  nights,  he  was  always  oppressed  and  haunted 


324  ^^  ^  ^-^-^  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

by  a  dreadful  sense  of  its  presence  in  the  house.  Did  the 
door  move,  he  looked  towards  it  with  a  livid  face  anc  starting 
eye,  as  if  he  fully  believed  that  ghostly  fingers  clutched  the 
handle.  Did  the  fire  flicker  in  a  draught  of  air,  he  glanced 
over  his  shoulder,  as  almost  dreading  to  behold  some  shrouded 
figure  fanning  and  flapping  at  it  with  its  fearful  dress.  The 
lightest  noise  disturbed  him  ;  and  once,  in  the  night,  at  the 
sound  of  a  footstep  over-head,  he  cried  out  that  the  dead  man 
was  walking,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  about  his  coffin. 

He  lay  at  night  upon  a  mattress  on  the  floor  of  the  sitting- 
room  ;  his  own  chamber  ha\ing  been  assigned  to  Mrs.  Gamp ; 
and  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  similarly  accommodated.  The  howling 
of  a  dog  before  the  house,  filled  him  with  a  terror  he  could 
not  disguise.  He  avoided  the  reflection  in  the  opposite 
windows  of  the  light  that  burned  above,  as  though  it  had  been 
an  angry  eye.  He  often,  in  every  night,  rose  up  from  his 
fitful  sleep,  and  looked  and  longed  for  dawn  ;  all  directions 
and  arrangements,  even  to  the  ordering  of  their  daily  meals, 
he  abandoned  to  Mr.  Pecksniff.  That  excellent  gentleman, 
deeming  that  the  mourner  wanted  comfort,  and  that  high 
feeding  was  likely  to  do  him  infinite  service,  availed  himself 
of  these  opportunities  to  such  good  purpose,  that  they  kept 
quite  a  dainty  table  during  this  melancholy  season  ;  with 
sweetbreads,  stewed  kidneys,  oysters,  and  other  such  light 
viands  for  supper  every  night  ;  o\'er  which,  and  sundiy  jorums 
of  hot  punch,  Mr.  Pecksniff  delivered  such  mora!  reflections 
and  spiritual  consolation  as  might  have  converted  a  Heathen 
— especially  if  he  had  had  but  an  imperfect  acquaintance  with 
the  English  tongue. 

Nor  did  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone  indulge  in  the  creature 
comforts  during  this  sad  time.  Mrs.  Gamp  proved  to  be  very 
choice  in  her  eating,  and  repudiated  hashed  mutton  with 
scorn.  In  her  drinking  too,  she  was  very  punctual  and  par- 
ticular, requiring  a  pint  of  mild  porter  at  lunch,  a  pint  at 
dinner,  half-a-pint  as  a  species  of  stay  or  holdfast  between 
dinner  and  tea,  and  a  pint  of  the  celebrated  staggering  ale,  or 
Real  Old  Brighton  Tipper,  at  supper  ;  besides  the  bottle  on 
the  chimney-piece,  and  such  casual  invitations  to  refresh  her- 
self with  wine  as  the  good  breeding  of  her  employers  might 
prompt  them  to  offer.  In  like  manner,  Mr.  Mould's  men 
found  it  necessary  to  drown  their  grief,  like  a  young  kitten  in 
the  morning  of  its  existence  ;  for  which  reason  they  generally 
fuddled  themselves  before  they  began  to  do  anything,  lest  it 


Jl/A  A'  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


325 


should  make  head  and  get  the  better  of  them.  In  short,  the 
whole  of  that  strange  week  was  a  round  of  dismal  joviality 
and  grim  enjoyment  ;  and  e\eiT  one,  except  poor  Chuffey, 
who  came  within  the  shadow  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit's  grave, 
feasted  like  a  Ghoule. 

At  length  the  day  of  the  funeral,  pious  and  truthful  cere- 
mony that  it  was,  arrived.  Mr.  Mould,  with  a  glass  of 
generous  port  between  his  eye  and  the  light,  leaned  against 
the  desk  in  the  little  glass  office  with  his  gold  watch  in  his 
unoccupied  hand,  and  conversed  with  Mrs.  Gamp;  two  mutes 
were  at  the  house-door,  looking  as  mournful  as  could  be 
reasonably  expected  of  men  with  such  a  thriving  job  in  hand; 
the  whole  of  Mr.  Mould's  establishment  were  on  duty  within 
the  house  or  \vithout  ;  feathers  waved,  horses  snorted,  silks 
and  velvets  fluttered  ;  in  a  word,  as  Mr.  Mould  emphatically 
said,  "  everything  that  money  could  do  was  done." 

"  And  what  can  do  more,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
undertaker,  as  he  emptied  his  glass,  and  smacked  his  lips. 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,  sir." 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,"  repeated  Mr.  Mould.  "  You  are 
right,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Why  do  people  spend  more  money" — 
here  he  filled  his  glass  again — "  upon  a  death,  Mrs.  Gamp, 
than  upon  a  birth  ?  Come,  that's  in  your  way  ;  you  ought  to 
know.     How  do  you  account  for  that  now  .?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  an  undertaker's  charges  comes 
dearer  than  a  nurse's  charges,  sir."  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  tittering, 
and  smoothing  down  her  new  black  dress  with  her  hands. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Mould.  "  You  have  been  break- 
fasting at  somebody's  expense  this  morning,  Mrs.  Gamp." 
But  seeing,  by  the  aid  of  a  little  shaving-glass  which  hung 
opposite,  that  he  looked  merry,  he  composed  his  features  and 
became  sorrowful. 

"  Many's  the  time  that  I've  not  breakfasted  at  my  own 
expense  along  of  your  kind  recommending,  sir;  and  many's 
the  time  I  hope  to  do  the  same  in  time  to  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  with  an  apologetic  curtsey. 

"  So  be  it,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  "  please  Providence.  No. 
Mrs.  Gamp  ;  I'll  tell  you  why  it  is.  It's  because  the  laying 
out  of  money  with  a  well-conducted  establishment,  where  the 
thing  is  performed  upon  the  very  best  scale,  binds  the  broken 
heart,  and  sheds  balm  upon  the  wounded  spirit.  Hearts  want 
binding,  and  spirits  want  balming  when  people  die  :  not  when 
people  are  born.     Look  at  this  gentleman  to-day  ;  look  at  him." 


'26  ^V.-i A'  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

''  An  open-handed  gentleman  ?  "    cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  No,  no,''  said  the  undertaker ;  "  not  an  open-handed 
gentleman  in  general,  by  any  means.  There  you  mistake 
him  ;  but  an  afflicted  gentleman,  an  affectionate  gentleman, 
who  knows  what  it  is  in  the  power  of  money  to  do,  in  giving 
him  relief,  and  in  testifying  his  love  and  veneration  for  the 
departed.  It  can  give  him,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  waving  his 
watch-chain  slowly  round  and  round,  so  that  he  described  one 
circle  after  every  item  ;  "  it  can  give  him  four  horses  to  each 
vehicle  ;  it  can  give  him  velvet  trappings ;  it  can  give  him 
drivers  in  cloth  cloaks  and  top-boots  ;  it  can  give  him  the 
plumage  of  the  ostrich,  dyed  black  ;  it  can  give  him  any 
number  of  walking  attendants,  dressed  in  the  first  style  of 
funeral  fashion,  and  carrying  batons  tipped  with  brass  ;  it  can 
give  him  a  handsome  tomb,  it  can  give  him  a  place  in  West- 
minster Abbey  itself,  if  he  choose  to  invest  it  in  such  a 
purchase.  Oh  !  do  not  let  us  say  that  gold  is  dross,  when  it 
can  buy  such  things  as  these,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  But  what  a  blessing,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  that  there 
are  such  as  you,  to  sell  or  let  'em  out  on  hire  ? " 

"  Ay,  Mrs.  Gamp,  you  are  right,"  rejoined  the  undertaker. 
"  We  should  be  an  honored  calling.  We  do  good  by  stealth, 
and  blush  to  have  it  mentioned  in  our  little  bills.  How  much 
consolation  may  I,  even  I,"  cried  Mr.  Mould,  "  have  diffused 
among  my  fellow-creatures  by  means  of  my  four  long-tailed 
prancers,  never  harnessed  under  ten  pund  ten  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  begun  to  make  a  suitable  reply,  when  she 
was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  one  of  Mr.  Mould's  as- 
sistants— his  chief  mourner  in  fact — an  obese  person,  with  his 
waistcoat  in  closer  connection  with  his  legs  than  is  quite  re- 
concilable with  the  established  ideas  of  grace  ;  with  that  cast 
of  feature  which  is  iiguratively  called  a  bottle-nose  ;  and  with 
a  face  covered  all  over  with  pimples.  He  had  been  a  tender 
plant  once  upon  a  time,  but  from  constant  blowing  in  the  fat 
atmosphere  of  funerals,  had  run  to  seed. 

"  Well,  Tacker,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  "  is  all  ready  below  .?  " 

"A  beautiful  show,  sir,"  rejoined  Tacker.  "The  horses 
are  prouder  and  fresher  than  ever  I  see  'em  ;  and  toss  their 
heads,  they  do,  as  if  they  know'd  how  nmch  their  plumes  cost. 
One,  two,  three,  four,"  said  Mr.  Tacker,  heaping  that  number 
of  black  cloaks  upon  his  left  arm. 

"  Is  Tom  there,  with  the  cake  and  wine  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Mould. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  327 

"  Ready  to  come  in  at  a  moment's  notice,  sir,  "  said  Tacker. 

"Then,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mould,  putting  up  his  watch,  and 
glancing  at  himself  in  the  little  shaving  glass,  that  he  might 
be  sure  his  face  had  the  right  expression  on  it ;  '"  then,  1  think 
we  may  proceed  to  business.  Give  me  the  paper  of  gloves, 
Tacker.  Ah  what  a  man  he  was  !  Ah  Tacker,  Tacker,  what 
a  man  he  was  I  " 

Mr.  Tacker,  who  from  his  great  experience  in  the  perform- 
ance of  funerals,  would  have  made  an  excellent  pantomine 
actor,  winked  at  Mrs.  Gamp  without  at  all  disturbing  the  grav- 
ity of  his  countenance,  and  followed  his  master  into  the  next 
room. 

It  was  a  great  point  with  Mr.  Mould,  and  a  part  of  his  pro- 
fessional tact,  }iot  to  seem  to  know  the  doctor  ;  though  in  re- 
ality they  were  near  neighbors,  and  very  often,  as  in  the  pres- 
ent instance,  worked  together.  So  he  advanced  to  fit  on  his 
black  kid  gloves  as  if  he  had  never  seen  him  in  all  his  life  ; 
while  the  doctor,  on  his  part,  looked  as  distant  and  uncon- 
scious as  if  he  had  heard  and  read  of  undertakers,  and  had 
passetl  their  shops,  but  had  never  before  been  brought  into 
communication  with  one. 

"  Gloves,  eh  ?  "  said  the  doctor,  "  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  you." 

"  J  couldn't  think  of  it,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  the  doctor,  taking  a  pair. 
"  Well,  sir,  as  I  was  saying,  I  was  called  up  to  attend  that  case 
at  about  half-past  one  o'clock.  Cake  and  wine,  eh  ?  Which 
is  port  ?     Thank  you." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  took  some  also. 

"  At  about  half-past  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  sir,"  re- 
sumed the  doctor,  "  I  was  called  up  to  attend  that  case.  At 
the  first  pull  of  the  night-bell  1  turned  out,  threw  up  the  win- 
dow, and  put  out  my  head.  Cloak,  eh  .''  Don't  tie  it  too 
tight.     That'll  do." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  having  been  likewise  inducted  into  a  similar 
garment,  the  doctor  resumed. 

"  And  put  out  my  head.  Hat,  eh  ?  My  good  friend,  that 
is  not  mine.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  1  beg  your  pardon,  but  1  think 
we  have  unintentionally  made  an  exchange.  Thank  you. 
Well,  sir,  I  was  going  to  tell  you  " — 

"  We  are  quite  ready,"  interrupted  Mould  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Ready,  eh  >  "  said  the  doctor.  "  Very  good.  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, I'll  take  an  opportunity  of  relating  the  rest  in  the  coach. 
It's  rather  curious.     Ready,  eh  ?     No  rain,  I  hope  }  " 


3»S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Quite  fair,  sir,"  returned  Mould. 

"  1  was  afraid  tlie  ground  would  have  been  wet,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  for  my  glass  fell  yesterday.  We  may  congratulate 
ourselves  upon  our  good  fortune."  But  seeing  by  this  time 
that  Mr.  Jonas  and  Chuff ey  were  going  out  at  the  door,  he 
put  a  white  pocket-handkerchief  to  his  face  as  if  a  violent 
burst  of  grief  had  suddenly  come  upon  him,  and  walked  down 
side  by  side  with  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Mr,  Mould  and  his  men  had  not  exaggerated  the  grandeur 
of  the  arrangements.  They  were  splendid.  The  four  hearse- 
horses,  especially,  reared  and  pranced,  and  showed  their  high- 
est action,  as  if  they  knew  a  man  was  dead,  and  triumphed"  in 
it.  "  They  break  us,  drive  us,  ride  us ;  ill-treat,  abuse,  and 
maim  us  for  their  pleasure — But  they  die  ;  Hurrah,  they  die  !  " 

So  through  the  narrow  streets  and  winding  city  ways, 
went  Anthony  Chuzzlewit's  funeral  :  Mr.  Jonas  glancing  stealth- 
ily out  of  the  coach-window  now  and  then,  to  observe  its 
effect  upon  the  crowd ;  Mr.  Mould  as  he  walked  along  listen- 
ing with  a  sober  pride  to  the  exclamations  of  the  bystanders ; 
the  doctor  whispering  his  story  to  Mr.  Pecksniif,  without  ap- 
pearing to  come  any  nearer  to  the  end  of  it  ;  and  poor  old 
Chuffey  sobbing  unregarded  in  a  corner.  But  he  had  greatly 
scandalized  Mr.  Mould  at  an  early  stage  of  the  ceremony  by 
carrying  his  handkerchief  in  his  hat  in  a  perfectly  informal 
manner,  and  wiping  his  eyes  with  his  knuckles.  And  as  Mr. 
Mould  himself  had  said  already,  his  behavior  was  indecent, 
and  quite  unworthy  of  such  an  occasion  ;  and  he  never  ought 
to  have  been  there 

There  he  was,  however,  and  in  the  churchyard  there  he  was, 
also,  conducting  himself  in  a  no  less  unbecoming  manner,  and 
leaning  for  support  on  Tacker,  who  plainly  told  him  that  he 
was  fit  for  nothing  better  than  a  walking  funeral.  But  Chuf- 
fey, Heaven  help  him  !  heard  no  sound  but  the  echoes,  lin- 
gering in  his  own  heart,  of  a  voice  for  ever  silent. 

"  I  loved  him,"  cried  the  old  man,  sinking  down  upon  the 
grave  when  all  was  done.  "  He  was  very  good  to  me.  Oh, 
my  dear  old  friend  and  master  !  " 

"Come,  come,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  the  doctor,  "this  won't 
do  ;  it'sa  clayey  soil,  Mr.  Chuffey.     You  musn't,  really." 

"  If  it  had  been  the  commonest  thing  we  do,  and  Mr.  Chuf- 
fey had  been  a  Bearer,  gentlemen,"  said  Mould,  casting  an 
imploring  glance  upon  them,  as  he  helped  to  raise  him,  "  he 
couldn't  have  gone  on  worse  than  this." 


A/ A  A'  T/A'  CHUZZLE  WIT.  329 

"Be  a  man,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Pecksniff. 

"  Be  a  gentleman,  Mr.  ChuiTey,"  said  Mould. 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  good  friend,"  murmured  the  doctor, 
in  a  tone  of  stately  reproof,  as  he  stepped  up  to  the  old  man's 
side,  "  this  is  worse  than  weakness.  This  is  bad,  selfish,  very 
wrong,  Mr.  Chuffey.  You  should  take  examples  from  others, 
my  good  sir.  You  forget  that  you  were  not  connected  by  ties 
of  blood  with  our  deceased  friend  ;  and  that  he  had  a  very 
near  and  very  dear  relation,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"  Ay,  his  own  son  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  clasping  his  hands 
with  remarkable  passion.     "  His  own,  own,  only  son !  " 

"  He's  not  right  in  his  head,  you  know,"  said  Jonas,  turning 
pale.  "  You're  not  to  mind  anything  he  says.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  w^is  to  talk  some  precious  nonsense.  But  don't 
you  mind  him,  any  of  you.  I  don't.  My  father  left  him  to 
my  charge  ;  and  whatever  he  says  or  does,  that's  enough,  /'ll 
take  care  of  him." 

A  hum  of  admiration  rose  from  the  mourners  (including 
Mr.  Mould  and  his  merry  men)  at  this  new  instance  of  mag- 
nanimity and  kind-feeling  on  the  part  of  Jonas.  But  Chuffey 
put  it  to  the  test  no  farther.  He  said  not  a  word  more,  and 
being  left  to  himself  for  a  little  while,  crept  back  again  to  the 
■coach. 

It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Jonas  turned  pale  when  the  be- 
havior of  the  old  clerk  attracted  general  attention  ;  his  dis- 
composure, however,  was  but  momentary,  and  he  soon  re- 
covered. But  these  were  not  the  only  changes  he  had 
exhibited  that  day.  The  curious  eyes  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  ob- 
served that  as  soon  as  they  left  the  house  upon  their  mourn- 
ful errand,  he  began  to  mend  ;  that  as  the  ceremonies  pro- 
ceeded he  gradually,  by  little  and  little,  recovered  his  old  con- 
dition, his  old  looks,  his  old  liearing,  his  old  agreeable  char- 
acteristics of  speech  and  manner,  and  became,  in  all  respects, 
his  old  pleasant  self.  And  now  that  they  were  seated  in  the 
coach  on  their  return  home  ;  and  more  when  they  got  there, 
and  found  the  windows  open,  the  light  and  air  admitted,  and  all 
traces  of  the  late  event  removed  ;  he  felt  so  well  convinced 
that  Jonas  was  again  the  Jonas  he  had  known  a  week  ago, 
and  not  the  Jonas  of  the  intervening  time,  that  he  \'oluntarily 
gave  up  his  recently-acquired  power  without  one  faint  attempt 
to  exercise  it,  and  at  once  fell  back  into  his  former  position 
of  mild  and  deferential  guest. 

Mrs.   Gamp   went    home    to    the    bird-fancier's,   and  was 


330  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

knocked  up  asjain  that  very  night  for  a  birth  of  twins  ;  Mr. 
Mould  dined  gayly  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  and  passed  the 
evening  facetiously  at  his  club  ;  the  hearse,  after  standing 
for  a  long  time  at  the  door  of  a  roistering  public-house,  re- 
paired to  its  stables  with  the  feathers  inside  and  twelve  red- 
nosed  undertakers  on  the  roof,  each  holding  on  by  a  dingy 
peg,  to  which,  in  times  of  state,  a  waving  plume  was  fitted ; 
the  various  trappings  of  sorrow  were  carefully  laid  by  in 
presses  for  the  next  hirer ;  the  fiery  steeds  were  quenched 
and  quiet  in  their  stalls  ;  the  doctor  got  merry  with' wine  at 
a  wedding-dinner,  and  forgot  the  middle  of  the  stor)'-  which 
had  no  end  to  it ;  the  pageant  of  a  few  short  hours  ago  was 
written  nowhere  half  so  legibly  as  in  the  undertaker's  books. 

Not  in  the  churchyard }  Not  even  there.  The  gates  were 
closed  ;  the  night  was  dark  and  wet  ;  the  rain  fell  silently, 
among  the  stagnant  weeds  and  nettles.  One  new  mound  was 
there  which  had  not  been  there  last  night.  Time,  burrowing 
like  a  mole  below  the  ground,  had  marked  his  track  by  throw- 
ing up  another  heap  of  earth.     And  that  was  all. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IS    A    CHAPTER    OF    I,OVE. 


"  Pecksniff,"  said  Jonas,  taking  off  his  hat,  to  see  that 
the  black  crape  band  was  all  right,  and  finding  that  it  was, 
putting  it  on  again,  complacently,  "what  do  you  mean  to 
give  your  daughters  when  they  marry  1  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Jonas,"  cried  the  affectionate  parent,  with 
an  ingenuous  smile,  "  what  a  very  singular  inquiry  !  " 

"  Now  don't  you  mind  whether  it's  a  singular  inquiry  or  a 
plural  one,"  retorted  Jonas,  eyeing  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  no  great 
•favor,  "  but  answer  it,  or  let  it  alone.     One  or  the  other." 

"  Hum  !  The  question,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, laying  his  hand  tenderly  upon  his  kinsman's  knee,  '•  is 
involved  with  many  considerations.  What  would  I  grve 
Ihem  ?     Eh  ? " 

"  Ah  !  what  would  you  give  'em  ?  "  repeated  Jonas. 

"  Why,  that,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  would  naturally  depend 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  33 1 

in  a  great  measure  upon  the  kind  of  husbands  they  might 
choose,  my  dear  young  friend." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  evidently  disconcerted,  and  at  a  loss  how 
to  proceed.  It  was  a  good  answer.  It  seemed  a  deep  one, 
but  such  is  the  wisdom  of  simplicity  ! 

"  My  standard  for  the  merits  I  would  require  in  a  son-in- 
law,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  short  silence,  "  is  a  high  one. 
Forgive  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Jonas,"  he  added,  greatly  moved,  '"  if 
I  say  that  you  have  spoiled  me,  and  made  it  a  fanciful  one  ;  an 
imaginative  one  ;  a  prismatically  tinged  one,  if  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  call  it  so." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  growled  Jonas,  looking 
at  him  with  increabcd  disfavor. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  I'ecksniff,  *'  you  may 
well  inquire.  I'he  heart  is  not  always  a  royal  mint,  with  pat- 
ent machinery,  to  work  its  metal  into  current  coin.  Some- 
times it  throws  it  out  in  strange  forms,  not  easily  recognized 
as  coin  at  all.  But  it  is  sterling  gold.  It  has  at  least  that 
merit.     It  is  sterling  gold." 

"Is  it.'' "  grumbled  Jonas,  with  a  doubtful  shake  of  the 
head. 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  wanning  with  his  subject.  "  it 
is.  To  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Jonas,  if  I  could  find  two  such 
sons-in-law  as  you  will  one  day  make  to  some  deserving  man, 
capable  of  appreciating  a  nature  such  as  yours,  I  would — for- 
getful of  myself — bestow  upon  my  daughters,  portions  reach- 
ing to  the  very  utmost  limit  of  my  means." 

This  was  strong  language,  and  it  was  earnestly  delivered. 
But  who  can  wonder  that  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after 
all  he  had  seen  and  heard  of  Mr.  Jonas,  should  be  strong  and 
earnest  upon  such  a  theme  ;  a  theme  that  touched  even  the 
worldly  lips  of  undertakers  with  the  honey  of  eloquence  ! 

Mr.  Jonas  was  silent,  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  land- 
scape. For  they  were  seated  on  the  outside  of  the  coach,  at 
the  back,  and  were  travelling  down  into  the  country.  He 
accompanied  Mr.  Pecksniff  home  for  a  few  days'  change  of 
air  and  scene  after  his  recent  trials. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  with  captivating  bluntness,  "  sup- 
pose you  got  one  such  son-in-law  as  me,  what  then  .-'  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  regarded  him  at  lirst  with  inexpressible  sur- 
prise ;  then  gradually  breaking  into  a  sort  of  dejected  vivacity, 
said  : 

"  Then  well  I  know  whose  husband  he  would  be  !  " 


332  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Whose  ?  "  asked  Jonas,  dryly. 

"  My  eldest  girl's,  Mr.  Jonas,"  replied  Pecksniff,  with 
moistening  eyes.  "  My  dear  Cherry's  :  my  staff,  my  scrip,  my 
treasure,  Mr.  Jonas.  A  hard  struggle,  but  it  is  in  the  nature 
of  things  !  I  must  one  day  part  with  her  to  a  husband.  I 
know  it,  my  dear  friend.     1  am  prepared  for  it." 

"  Ecod  !  you've  been  prepared  for  that  a  pretty  long  time, 
I  should  think,"  said  Jonas. 

Many  have  sought  to  bear  her  from  me,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff. "All  have  failed.  '  I  never  will  give  my  hand,  papa  ' — 
those  were  her  words — '  unless  my  heart  is  won.'  She  has 
not  been  quite  so  happy  as  she  used  to  be,  of  late.  I  don't 
know  why." 

Again  Mr.  Jonas  looked  at  the  landscape  ;  then  at  the 
coachman  ;  then  at  the  luggage  on  the  roof ;  finally  at  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  part  with  the  other  one,  some  of 
these  days  ?  "  he  observed,  as  he  caught  that  gentleman's  eye. 

"I*robably,"  said  the  parent.  "Years  will  tame  down  the 
wildness  of  my  foolish  bird,  and  then  it  will  be  caged.  But 
Cherry,  Mr.  Jonas,  Cherry." 

"  Oh,  ah  !  "  interrupted  Jonas.  "  Years  have  made  her 
all  right  enough.  Nobody  doubts  that.  But  you  haven't  an- 
swered what  I  asked  you.  Of  course,  you're  not  obliged  to 
do  it,  you  know,  if  you  don't  like.     You're  the  best  judge." 

There  was  a  warning  sulkiness  in  the  manner  of  this  speech, 
which  admonished  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  his  dear  friend  was  not 
to  be  trifled  with  or  fenced  off,  and  that  he  must  either  return 
a  straightforward  reply  to  his  question,  or  plainly  give  him  to 
understand  that  he  declined  to  enlighten  him  upon  the  subject 
to  which  it  referred.  Mindful  in  this  dilemma  of  the  caution 
Old  Anthony  had  given  him  almost  with  his  latest  breath,  he 
resolved  to  speak  to  the  point,  and  so  told  Mr.  Jonas  (enlarg- 
ing upon  the  communication  as  a  proof  of  his  great  attach- 
ment and  confidence),  that  in  the  case  he  had  put ;  to  wit,  in 
the  event  of  such  a  man  as  he  proposing  for  his  daughter's 
hand,  he  would  endow  her  with  a  fortune  of  four  thousand 
pounds. 

"  1  should  sadly  pinch  and  cramp  myself  to  do  so, ''  was 
his  fatherly  remark;  "but  that  would  be  my  duty,  and  my 
conscience  would  reward  me.  For  myself,  my  conscience  is 
my  bank.  I  have  a  trifle  invested  there,  a  mere  trifle,  Mr. 
Jonas  ;  but  I  prize  it  as  a  store  of  value,  I  assure  you." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ZZ7> 


The  good  man's  enemies  would  have  divided  upon  this 
question  into  two  parties.  One  would  have  asserted  without 
scruole  that  if  Mr.  Pecksniff's  conscience  were  his  bank,  and 
he  kept  a  running  account  there,  he  must  have  overdrawn  it 
beyond  all  mortal  means  of  computation.  The  other  would 
have  contended  that  it  was  a  mere  fictitious  fonii  ;  a  perfectly 
blank  book  ;  or  one  in  which  entries  were  only  made  with  a 
peculiar  kind  of  invisible  ink  to  become  legible  at  some  indefi- 
nite time  ;  and  that  he  never  troubled  it  at  all. 

"It  would  sadly  pinch  and  cramp  me,  my  dear  friend," 
repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "but  I^rovidence,  perhaps  1  may  be 
permitted  to  say  a  special  Providence,  has  blessed  my  endeav- 
ors, and  I  could  guarantee  to  make  the  sacrifice." 

A  question  -of  philosophy  arises  here,  whether  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff had  or  had  not  good  reason  to  say,  that  he  was  specially 
patronized  and  encouraged  in  his  undertakings.  All  his  life 
long  he  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the  narrow  ways  and 
by-places,  with  a  hook  in  one  hand  and  a  crook  in  the- other, 
scraping  all  sorts  of  valuable  odds  and  ends  into  his  pouch. 
Now,  there  being  a  special  Providence  in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow, 
it  follows  (so  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  reasoned),  that  there 
must  also  be  a  special  Providence  in  the  alighting  of  the 
stone,  or  stick,  or  other  substance  which  is  aimed  at  the 
sparrow.  And  Mr.  Pecksniff's  hook,  or  crook,  having  invari- 
ably knocked  the  sparrow  on  the  head  and  brought  him  down, 
that  gentleman  may  have  been  led  to  consider  himself  as 
specially  licensed  to  bag  sparrows,  and  as  being  specially 
seized  and  possessed  of  all  the  birds  he  had  got  together. 
That  many  undertakings,  national  as  well  as  individual — but 
especially  the  former — are  held  to  be  specially  brought  to  a 
glorious  and  successful  issue,  which  never  could  be  so  regard- 
ed on  any  other  process  of  reasoning,  must  be  clear  to  all 
men.  Therefore  the  precedents  would  seem  to  show  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  good  argument  for  what  he  said,  and  might  be 
permitted  to  say  it,  and  did  not  say  it  presumptuously,  vainly, 
or  arrogantly,  but  in  a  spirit  of  high  faith  and  great  wisdom 
meriting  all  praise.* 

Mr.  Jones,  not  being  much  accustomed  to  perplex  his  mind 
vvith  theories  of  this  nature,  expressed  no  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject. Nor  did  he  receive  his  companion's  announcement  with 
one  solitary  syllable,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent.     He  preserved 

*  The   most  crediilniis  reader  will  scarcely  believe  that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  reasouiug  was 
ence  set  upon  as  the  Author's  !  ! 


334  MARTIX  CHUZZLE WIT. 

this  taciturnity  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  least,  and  during 
the  whole  of  that  time  appeared  to  be  steadily  engaged  in 
subjecting  some  given  amount  to  the  operation  of  every 
known  rule  in  figures  ;  adding  to  it,  taking  from  it,  multiply- 
ing it,  reducing  it  by  long  and  short  division  ;  working  it  by 
the  rule-of-three  direct  and  inversed  ;  exchange  or  barter ; 
practice ;  simple  interest ;  compound  interest ;  and  other 
means  of  arithmetical  calculation.  The  result  of  these  labors 
appeared  to  be  satisfactory,  for  when  he  did  break  silence,  it 
was  as  one  w'ho  had  arrived  at  some  specific  result,  and 
freed  himself  from  a  state  of  distressing  uncertainty. 

"  Come,  old  Pecksniff ! "  Such  was  his  jocose  address, 
as  he  slapped  that  gentleman  on  the  back,  at  the  end  of  the 
stage  ;  "  let's  have  something !  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Let's  treat  the  driver,"  cried  Jonas. 

"  If  you  think  it  won't  hurt  the  man,  or  render  him  discon- 
tented with  his  station  ;  certainly,"  faltered  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Jonas  only  laughed  at  this,  and  getting  down  from  the 
coach-top  with  great  alacrit\%  cut  a  cumbersome  kind  of  caper 
in  the  road.  After  which,  he  went  into  the  public-house,  and 
there  ordered  spirituous  drink  to  such  an  extent,  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  some  doubts  of  his  perfect  sanity,  until  Jonas 
set  them  quite  at  rest  by  saying,  when  the  coach  could  wait 
no  longer : 

"  I've  been  standing  treat  for  a  whole  week  and  more,  and 
letting  you  have  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season.  You  shall 
pay  for  this,  Pecksniff."  It  was  not  a  joke  either,  as  Mr. 
Pecksniff  at  first  supposed  ;  for  he  went  off  to  the  coach 
without  further  ceremony,  and  left  his  respected  victim  to 
setde  the  bill. 

But  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  man  of  meek  endurance,  and  Mr. 
Jonas  was  his  friend.  Moreover,  his  regard  for  that  gentle- 
man was  founded,  as  we  know,  on  pure  esteem,  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  excellence  of  his  character.  He  came  out  from 
the  tavern  with  a  smiling  face,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
repeat  the  performance,  on  a  less  expensive  scale,  at  the  next 
ale-house.  There  was  a  certain  wildness  in  the  spirits  of  Mr. 
Jonas  (not  usually  a  part  of  his  character)  which  was  far 
from  being  subdued  by  these  means,  and,  for  the  rest  of 
the  journey,  he  was  so  very  buoyant — it  may  be  said,  boister- 
ous— that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  some  difficulty  in  keeping  pace 
with  him. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


335 


They  were  not  expected.  Oh  clear,  no  !  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  proposed  in  London  to  give  the  girls  a  surprise,  and  had 
said  he  wouldn't  write  a  word  to  prepare  them  on  any  account, 
in  order  that  he  and  Mr.  Jonas  might  take  them  unawares, 
and  just  see  what  they  were  doing,  when  they  thought  their 
dear  papa  was  miles  and  miles  away.  As  a  consequence  of 
this  playful  device,  there  was  nobody  to  meet  tliem  at  the 
finger-post,  but  that  was  of  small  consequence,  for  they  had 
come  down  by  the  day  coach,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  only  a 
carpet  bag,  while  Mr.  Jonas  had  only  a  portmanteau.  They 
took  the  portmanteau  between  them,  put  the  bag  upon  it, 
and  walked  off  up  the  lane  without  delay  ;  Mr.  Pecksniff 
already  going  on  tiptoe  as  if,  without  this  precaution,  his  fond 
children,  being  then  at  a  distance  of  a  couple  of  miles  or  so, 
would  have  some  filial  sense  of  his  approach. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening,  in  the  spring-time  of  the  year; 
and  in  the  soft  stillness  of  the  twilight,  all  nature  was  \-ery 
calm  and  beautiful.  The  day  had  been  fine  and  warm  ,  but 
at  the  coming  on  of  night,  the  air  grew  cool,  and  in  the  mel- 
lowing distance,  smoke  was  rising  gently  from  the  cottage 
chimneys.  There  were  a  thousand  pleasant  scents  diffused 
around,  from  young  leaves  and  fresh  buds  ;  the  cuckoo  had 
been  singing  all  day  long,  and  was  but  just  now  hushed ;  the 
smell  of  earth  newly-upturned,  first  breath  of  hope  to  the  first 
laborer,  after  his  garden  withered,  was  fragrant  in  the  evening 
breeze.  It  was  a  time  when  most  men  cherish  good  resolves, 
and  sorrow  for  the  wasted  past  ;  when  most  men,  looking  on 
the  shadows,  as  they  gather,  think  of  that  evening  which  must 
close  on  all,  and  that  to-morrow  which  has  none  beyond. 

"  Precious  dull,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  looking  about.  "  It's 
enough  to  make  a  man  go  melancholy  mad." 

"  We  shall  have  lights  and  a  fire  soon,"  observed  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff. 

"  We  shall  need  'em  by  the  time  we  get  there,"  said  Jonas. 
"  Why  the  devil  don't  you  talk  ?  \Miat  are  you  thinking 
of  >  " 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Pecksniff  with 
great  solemnity,  "  my  mind  was  running  at  that  moment  on 
our  late  dear  friend,  3^our  departed  father." 

Mr.  Jonas  immediately  let  ins  burden  fall,  and  said, 
t.hreak-ning  liim  with  his  hand  : 

"Drop  that,  Pecksniff!" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  not  exactly  knowing  whether  allusion  was 


336 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT. 


made  to  the  subject  or  the  portmanteau,  stared  at  his  friend  in 
unaffected  surprise. 

"  Drop  it,  I  say  !  "  cried  Jonas,  fiercely.  "  Do  you  hear  ? 
Drop  it,  now  and  forever.  You  liad  better,  I  give  you  no- 
tice !  " 

"  It  was  quite  a  mistake,"  urged  Mr.  Pecksniff,  very  much 
dismayed  ;  "  though  I  admit  it  was  foolish.  1  might  have 
known  it  was  a  tender  string." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  about  tender  strings,"  said  Jonas, 
wiping  his  forehead  with  the  cuff  of  his  coat.  "  I'm  not  going 
to  be  crowed  over  by  you,  because  I  don't  like  dead  com- 
pany." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  got  out  the  words  "Crowed  over,  Mr. 
Jonas  ! "  when  that  young  man,  with  a  dark  expression  in  his 
countenance,  cut  him  short  once  more  : 

"  Mind  !  "  he  said,  "  I  won't  have  it.  I  advise  you  not  to 
revive  the  subject,  neither  to  me  nor  anybody  else.  You  can 
take  a  hint,  if  you  choose,  as  well  as  another  man.  There's 
enough  said  about  it.     Come  along  !  " 

Taking  up  his  part  of  the  load  again,  when  he  had  said  these 
words,  he  hurried  on  so  fast  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  portmanteau,  found  himself  dragged  forward,  in  a 
very  inconvenient  and  ungraceful  manner,  to  the  great  detri- 
ment of  what  is  called  by  fancy  gentlemen  "  the  bark  "  upon 
his  shins,  which  were  most  unmercifully  bumped  against  the 
hard  leather  and  the  iron  buckles.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes,  however,  Mr.  Jonas  relaxed  his  speed,  and  suffered 
his  companion  to  come  up  with  him,  and  to  bring  the  port- 
manteau into  a  tolerably  straight  position. 

It  was  pretty  clear  that  he  regretted  his  late  outbreak, 
and  that  he  mistrusted  its  effect  on  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  for  as 
often  as  that  gentleman  glanced  towards  Mr.  Jonas,  he  found 
Mr.  Jonas  glancing  at  him,  which  was  a  new  source  of  em- 
barrassment. It  was  but  a  short-lived  one,  though,  for  Mr. 
Jonas  soon  began  to  whistle,  whereupon  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking 
his  cue  from  his  friend,  began  to  hum  a  tune  melodiously. 

"  Pretty  nearly  there,  ain't  we  ? "  said  Jonas,  when  this 
had  lasted  some  time. 

"  Close,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  What '11  they  be  doing,  do  you  suppose.?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Impossible  to  say,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff'.  "  Giddy  truants  ! 
They  may  be  away  from  home,  perhaps.  I  was  going  to — 
he  '  he  !  he  ! — I  was  going  to  propose,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  ■^■^-j 

"  that  we  should  enter  by  the  back  way,  and  come  upon  them 
like  a  clap  of  thunder,  Mr.  Jonas." 

It  might  not  have  been  easy  to  decide  in  respect  of  which 
of  their  manifold  properties,  Jonas,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  carpet- 
bag, and  the  portmanteau,  could  be  likened  to  a  clap  of 
thunder.  But  Mr.  Jonas  giving  his  assent  to  this  proposal, 
they  stole  round  into  the  back  yard,  and  softly  advanced  to- 
wards the  kitchen  window  through  which  the  mingled  light  of 
fire  and  candle  shone  upon  the  darkening  night. 

Truly  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  blessed  in  his  children.  In  one  of 
them,  at  any  rate.  The  prudent  Cherry — staff  and  scrip,  and 
treasure  of  her  doting  father — there  she  sits,  at  a  little  table 
white  as  driven  snow,  before  the  kitchen  fire,  making  up 
accounts!  See. the  neat  maiden,  as  with  pen  in  hand,  and 
calculating  look  addressed  towards  the  ceiling,  and  bunch  of 
keys  within  a  little  basket  at  her  side,  she  checks  the  house- 
keeping expenditure  !  From  fiat-iron,  dish-cover,  and  warming- 
pan  ;  from  pot  and  kettle,  face  of  brass  footman,  and  black- 
leaded  stove  ;  bright  glances  of  approbation  wink  and  glow 
upon  her.  The  very  onions  dangling  from  the  beam,  mantle 
and  shine  like  cherub's  cheeks.  Something  of  the  infiuence 
of  those  vegetables  sinks  into  Mr.  Pecksniff's  nature.  He 
weeps. 

it  is  but  for  a  moment,  and  he  hides  it  from  the  obser\a- 
tion  of  his  friend — very  carefully — by  a  somewhat  elaborate 
use  of  his  pocket-handkerchief,  in  fact  ;  for  he  would  not  have 
his  weakness  known. 

"  Pleasant,"  he  murmured,  "  pleasant  to  a  father's  feel- 
ings !  My  dear  girl !  Shall  we  let  her  know  we  are  here,  Mr. 
Jonas  ?  " 

"  VV'liy,  I  suppose  you  don't  mean  to  spend  the  evening 
in  the  stable  or  the  coach-house,"  he  returned. 

"  That,  indeed,  is  not  such  hospitality  as  I  would  show 
io  you,  my  friend,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pressing  his  hand. 
And  then  he  took  a  long  breath,  and  tapping  at  the  window, 
shouted  with  stentorian  blandness  : 

"  Boh  !  " 

Cherry  dropped  her  pen  and  screamed.  But  innocence 
is  ever  bold,  or  should  be.  As  they  opened  the  door,  the 
valiant  girl  exclaimed  in  a  firm  voice,  and  with  a  presence  of 
mind  which  even  in  that  trying  moment  did  not  desert  her, 
'*  Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  Speak !  Or  I  will  caLI 
my  Pa." 

22 


338  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  held  out  his  arms.  She  knew  him  instantly, 
and  rushed  into  his  fond  embrace. 

"  It  was  thoughtless  of  us,  Mr.  Jonas,  it  was  very  thought- 
less," said  Pecksniff,  smoothing  his  daughter's  hair.  "  My 
darling,  do  you  see  that  I  am  not  alone !  " 

Not  she.  She  had  seen  nothing  but  her  father  until  now. 
She  saw  Mr.  Jonas  now,  though  ;  and  blushed,  and  hung  her 
head  down,  as  she  gave  him  welcome. 

But  where  was  Merry?  Mr.  Pecksniff  didn't  ask  the 
question  in  reproach,  but  in  a  vein  of  mildness  touched  with 
a  gentle  sorrow.  She  was  up  stairs,  reading  on  the  parlor 
couch.  Ah!  Domestic  details  had  no  charms  for //(?/'.  "  p]ut 
call  her  down,"  said,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  placid  resignation. 
"  Call  her  down,  my  love." 

She  was  called  and  came,  all  flushed  and  tumbled  from 
reposing  on  the  sofa ;  but  none  the  worse  for  that.  No,  not 
at  all.     Rather  the  better,  if  anything. 

"  Oh  my  goodness  me  !  "  cried  the  arch  girl,  turning  to 
her  cousin  when  she  had  kissed  her  father  on  both  cheeks, 
and  in  her  frolicsome  nature  had  bestowed  a  supernumerary 
salute  upon  the  tip  of  his  nose,  '•'■you  here,  fright !  Well,  I'm 
very  thankful  that  you  won't  trouble  t7ie  much  !  " 

"What!  you're  as  lively  as  ever,  are  you?"  said  Jonas. 
"  Oh  !    You're  a  wicked  one  !  " 

"  There,  go  along  !  "  retorted  Merr}%  pushing  him  away. 
"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  Avhat  I  shall  ever  do,  if  I  have  to  see 
much  of  you.     Go  along,  for  gracious'  sake  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  striking  in  here,  with  a  request  that  Mr. 
Jonas  would  immediately  walk  up  stairs,  he  so  far  complied 
with  the  young  lady's  adjuration  as  to  go  at  once.  But  though 
he  had  the  fair  Cherry  on  his  arm,  he  could  not  help  looking 
back  at  her  sister,  and  exchanging  some  further  dialogue  of 
the  same  bantering  description,  as  they  all  four  ascended  to 
the  parlor  \  where — for  the  young  ladies  happened,  by  good 
fortune,  to  be  a  little  later  than  usual  that  night — the  tea- 
board  was  at  that  moment  being  set  out. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  not  at  home,  so  they  had  it  all  to  them- 
selves, and  were  very  snug  and  talkative,  Jonas  sitting  be- 
tween the  two  sisters,  and  displaying  his  gallantry  in  that 
engaging  manner  which  was  peculiar  to  him.  It  was  a  hard 
thing,  Mr.  Pecksniff  said,  when  tea  was  done,  and  cleared 
away,  to  leave  so  pleasant  a  little  party,  but  having  some  im- 
portant papers  to  examine  in  his  own  apartment,  he  must  beg 


MA  R  TIN  CIIL  'ZZL  ElVIT. 


339 


them  to  excuse  him  for  half  an  hour.  With  this  apology  he 
withdrew,  singing  a  careless  strain  as  he  went.  He  had  not 
been  gone  five  minutes,  when  Merry,  who  had  been  sitting  in 
the  window,  apart  from  Jonas  and  her  sister,  burst  into  a  half- 
smothered  laugh,  and  skipped  towards  the  door. 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  Jonas.     "  Don't  go." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  !  "  rejoined  Merry,  looking  back.  "  You're 
very  anxious  I  should  stay,  fright,  ain't  you  .'' " 

"Yes,  I  am,"  said  Jonas.  "Upon  my  word  I  am.  I  want 
to  speak  to  you."  But  as  she  left  the  room  notwithstanding, 
he  ran  out  after  her,  and  brought  her  back,  after  a  short 
struggle  in  the  passage  which  scandalized  Miss  Cherry  very 
much. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Merr}',"  urged  that  young  lady,  "  I  won- 
der at  you  !     There  are  bounds  even  to  absurdity,  my  dear." 

"  Thank  you,  my  sweet,"  said  Merrj',  pursing  up  her  rosy 
lips.  "  Much  obliged  to  it  for  its  advice.  Oh  !  do  leave  me 
alone,  you  monster,  do  !  "  This  entreaty  was  wrung  from  her 
by  a  new  proceeding  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Jonas,  who  pulled  her 
down,  all  breathless  as  she  was,  into  a  seat  beside  him  on  the 
sofa,  having  at  the  same  time  Miss  Cherry  upon  the  other  side. 

"  Now,"  said  Jonas,  clasping  the  waist  of  each  ;  "  I  have 
got  both  arms  full,  haven't  I  ?  " 

"  One  of  them  will  be  black  and  blue  to-morrow,  if  you 
don't  let  me  go,"  cried  the  playful  Merry. 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  mind  j'(7«r  pinching,"  grinned  Jonas,  "  a  bit.'' 

"  Pinch  him  for  me.  Cherry,  pray,"  said  Mercy.  "  I  never 
did  hate  anybody  so  much  as  1  hate  this  creature,  1  declare  !  '' 

"  No,  no,  don't  say  that,"  urged  Jonas,  "  and  don't 
pinch  either,  because  1  want  to  be  scMious.  J  say  !  Cousin 
Charity  !  " 

"Well!  what .'' "  she  answered  sharply. 

"  1  want  to  have  some  sober  talk,"  said  Jonas  :  "  I  want 
to  prevent  any  mistakes,  you  know,  and  to  put  everything 
upon  a  pleasant  understanding.  That's  desirable  and  proper, 
ain't  it  ?  " 

Neither  of  the  sisters  spoke  a  word.  Mr.  Jonas  paused 
and  cleared  his  throat,  which  was  very  dry. 

"  She'll  not  believe  what  I  am  going  to  say,  will  she 
cousin  ?"  said  Jonas,  timidly  squeezing  Miss  Charity. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Jonas,  I  don't  know,  until  I  hear  what  it  is. 
It's  quite  impossible  !  " 

"Why,  you  see,"  said  Jonas,  "her  way  always  being  to 


340 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


make  game  of  people,  I  know  she'll  laugh,  or  pretend  to  ;  1 
know  that,  beforehand.  But  you  can  tell  her  I'm  in  earnest, 
cousin  ;  can't  you  ?  You'll  confess  you  know,  won't  you  ? 
You'll  be  honorable,  I'm  sure,"  he  added  persuasively. 

No  answer.  His  throat  seemed  to  grow  hotter  and  hot- 
ter, and  to  be  more  and  more  difficult  of  control. 

"  You  see,  Cousin  Charity,"  said  Jonas,  "  nobody  but  you 
can  tell  her  what  pains  I  took  to  get  into  her  company  when 
you  were  both  at  the  boarding-house  in  the  city,  because  no- 
body's so  well  aware  of  it,  you  know.  Nobody  else  can  tell 
her  how  hard  I  tried  to  get  to  know  you  better,  in  order  that 
I  might  get  to  know  her  without  seeming  to  wish  it ;  can 
they .''  I  always  asked  you  about  her,  and  said  where  had 
she  gone,  and  when  would  she  come,  and  how  lively  she  was, 
and  all  that  ;  didn't  I,  cousin  ?  I  know  you'll  tell  her  so,  if 
you  haven't  told  her  so  already,  and — and — I  dare  say  you 
ha\-e,  because  I'm  sure  you're  honorable,  ain't  you  .-'  " 

Still  not  a  word.  The  right  arm  of  Mr.  Jonas — the  elder 
sister  sat  upon  his  right — may  have  been  sensible  of  some 
tumultuous  throbbing  which  was  not  within  itself  ;  but  noth- 
ing else  apprised  him  that  his  words  had  had  the  least  effect. 

"  Even  if  you  kept  it  to  yourself,  and  haven't  told  her," 
resumed  Jonas,  "  it  don't  much  matter,  because  you'll  bear 
honest  witness  now ;  won't  you  ?  We've  been  very  good 
friends  from  the  first ;  haven't  we  .■*  And  of  course  we  shall 
be  quite  friends  in  future,  and  so  I  don't  mind  speaking  be- 
fore you  a  bit.  Cousin  Mercy,  you'\e  heard  what  I've  been 
saying.  She'll  confirm  it,  every  word  ;  she  must.  Will  you 
have  me  for  \our  husband  ?     Eh  ?  " 

As  he  released  his  hold  of  Charity,  to  put  this  question 
with  better  effect,  she  started  up  and  hurried  away  to  her  own 
room,  marking  her  progress  as  she  went  by  such  a  train  of 
passionate  and  incoherent  sound,  as  nothing  but  a  slighted 
woman  in  her  anger  could  produce. 

"  Let  me  go  away.  Let  me  go  after  her,"  said  Merry, 
pushing  him  off,  and  giving  him — to  tell  the  truth — more  than 
one  sounding  slap  upon  his  outstretched  face. 

"  Not  till  you  say  'S'es.  You  haven't  told  me.  Will  you 
have  me  for  your  husband  t  " 

"  No,  I  won't.  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  you.  I  have  told 
you  so  a  hundred  times.  You  are  a  fright.  Besides,  I  always 
thought  you  liked  my  sister  best.     We  all  thought  so." 

"  But  that  wasn't  my  fault,"  said  Jonas. 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  341 

"  Yes  it  was  ;  you  know  it  was." 

"Any  trick  is  fair  in  love,"  said  Jonas.  "  She  may  have 
thou2;ht  I  Uked  her  best,  luit  you  didn't." 

'•^I  did  .?  " 

"  No,  you  didn't.  You  never  could  have  thought  I  liked 
lier  best,  when  you  were  by." 

"  There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,'-'  said  Merry  ;  "  at 
least  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that.  I  don"t  know  what  i  mean. 
Let  me  go  to  her." 

"  Say  '  Yes,'  and  then  I  will." 

"  If  I  ever  brought  myself  to  say  so,  it  should  only  be, 
that  I  might  hate  and  tease  you  all  my  life." 

"That's  as  good,"  cried  Jonas,  "as  saying  it  right  out. 
It's  a  bargain,  cousin.     We're  a  pair,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

This  gallant  speech  was  succeeded  by  a  confused  noise  of 
kissing  and  slapping ;  and  then  the  fair,  but  nuich  dishev- 
elled Merry,broke  away,  and  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  her 
sister. 

Now  whether  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  listening — which  in 
one  of  his  character  appears  impossible,  or  divined  almost 
by  inspiration  what  the  matter  was— which,  in  a  man  of  his 
sagacity  is  far  more  probable,  or  happened  by  sheer  good 
fortune  to  find  himself  in  exactly  the  right  place,  at  precisely 
the  right  time — which,  under  the  special  guardianship  in 
which  he  lived  might  very  reasonably  happen,  it  is  quite  cer- 
tain that  at  the  moment  when  the  sisters  came  together  in 
their  own  room,  he  appeared  at  the  chamber  door.  And  a 
marvellous  contrast  it  was.  They  so  heated,  noisy,  and  vehe- 
ment ;  he  so  calm,  so  self-possessed,  so  cool  and  full  of  peace, 
that  not  a  hair  upon  his  head  was  stirred. 

"  Children  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  spreading  out  his  hands 
in  wonder,  but  not  before  he  had  shut  the  door,  and  set  his 
back  against  it.     "  Girls  !     Daughters  !     What  is  this  ?  " 

"  The  wretch ;  the  apostate  ;  the  false,  mean,  odious  vil- 
lain ;  has  before  my  very  face  proposed  to  Mercy  !  ''  was  his 
eldest  daughter's  answer. 

"  Who  has  proposed  to  Mercy  }  "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  ^£' has.     That  thing.     Jonas,  down  stairs." 

"Jonas  proposed  to  Mercy?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ay, 
ay  i     Indeed.?" 

"  Have  you  nothing  else  to  say  ?  "  cried  Charity.  "  Am  I 
to  be  driven  mad,  papa  .-*  He  has  proposed  to  Mercy,  not  to 
me." 


342  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Oh,  fie  !  For  shame  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  grav.ely. 
"  Oh,  for  shame  !  Can  the  triumph  of  a  sister  move  )'ou  to 
this  terrible  display,  my  child?  Oh,  really  this  is  very  sad  ! 
I  am  sorry  ;  I  am  surprised  and  hurt  to  see  you  so.  Mercy, 
my  girl,  bless  you  !  See  to  her.  Ah,  envy,  envy,  what  a  pas- 
sion you  are  !  " 

Uttering  this  apostrophe  in  a  tone  full  of  grief  and  lamen- 
tation, Mr.  Pecksniff  left  the  room  (taking  care  to  shut  the 
door  behind  him),  and  walked  down  stairs  into  the  parlor. 
There  he  found  his  intended  son-in-law,  whom  he  seized  by 
botli  hands. 

"  Jonas  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Jonas  !  the  dearest  wish 
of  my  heart  is  now  fulfilled  !  " 

"  Very  well  ;  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Jonas.  "That'll 
do.  I  say  !  As  it  ain't  the  one  you're  so  fond  of,  you  must 
come  down  with  another  thousand,  Pecksniff.  You  must 
make  it  up  five.  It's  worth  that,  to  keep  your  treasure  to 
yourself,  you  know.  You  get  off  ver}^  cheap  that  way,  and 
haven't  a  sacrifice  to  make." 

The  grin  with  which  he  accompanied  this,  set  off  his  other 
attractions  to  such  unspeakable  advantage,  that  even  Mr. 
Pecksniff  lost  his  presence  of  mind  for  a  moment,  and  looked 
at  the  young  man  as  if  he  were  quite  stupefied  with  wonder 
and  admiration.  But  he  quickly  regained  his  composure, 
and  was  in  the  very  act  of  changing  the  subject,  wlien  a  hasty 
step  was  heard  without,  and  I'om  Pinch,  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement,  came  darting  into  the  room. 

On  seeing  a  stranger  there,  apparently  engaged  with  Mr. 
Pecksniff  in  private  con\'ersation,  Tom  was  very  much  abashed, 
though  he  still  looked  as  if  he  had  something  of  great  impor- 
tance to  communicate,  which  would  be  a  sufficient  apology 
for  his  intrusion. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  "  this  is  hardly  decent.  You 
will  excuse  my  saying  that  1  think  your  conduct  scarcely 
decent,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  "  for  not  knocking 
at  the  door." 

"  Rather  beg  this  gentleman's  pardon,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said 
Pecksniff.  "  /know  you  ;  he  does  not.  My  young  man,  Mr. 
Jonas." 

The  son-in-law  that  was  to  be  gave  him  a  slight  nod,  not 
actively  disdainful  or  contemptuous,  only  passively,  for  he 
was  in  a  good  humor. 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  343 

"Could  I  speak  a  word  with  you,  sir,  if  you  please?  " 
said  Tom.     "  It's  rather  pressing." 

"  It  should  be  very  pressing  to  justify  this  strange  beha- 
vior, Mr.  Pinch,"  returned  his  master.  '"  Excuse  me  for  one 
moment,  my  dear  friend.  Now,  sir,  what  is  the  reason  of  this 
rough  intrusion  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  I  am  sure,"  said  Tom,  standing,  cap 
in  hand,  before  his  patron  in  the  passage  :  '"  and  I  know  it 
must  have  a  very  rude  appearance — " 

"  It  has  a  very  rude  appearance,  INIr.  Pinch.'' 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that,  sir  ;  but  the  truth  is,  I  was  so  surprised 
to  see  them,  and  knew  you  would  be  too,  that  I  ran  home 
very  fast  indeed,  and  really  hadn't  enough  command  over 
myself  to  know  what  I  was  doing  very  well.  I  was  in  the 
church  just  now,  sir,  touching  the  organ  for  my  own  amuse- 
ment, when  I  happened  to  look  round,  and  saw  a  gentleman 
and  lady  standing  in  the  aisle  listening.  They  seemed  to  be 
strangers,  sir,  as  well  as  I  could  make  out  in  the  dusk  ;  and  I 
thought  I  didn't  know  them  ;  so  presently  I  left  off,  and  said, 
would  they  walk  up  into  the  organ-loft,  or  take  a  seat  t  No, 
they  said  they  wouldn't  do  that ;  but  thev  thanked  me  for  the 
music  they  had  heard.  In  fact,"  observed  Tom,  blushing,  "  they 
said,  '  Delicious  music  ! '  at  least,  she  did  ;  and  I  am  sure  that 
was  a  greater  pleasure  and  honor  to  me,  than  any  compliment 
I  could  have  had  I — I — beg  your  pardon,  sir  ;  "  he  was  all  in 
a  tremble,  and  dropped  his  hat  for  the  second  time  ;  "  but  1 
— I'm  rather  flurried,  and  I  fear  I've  wandered  from  the 
point." 

"  If  you  will  come  back  to  it,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
with  and  icy  look,  "  I  shall  feel  obliged." 

"  Yes,  sir,''  returned  Tom,  "certainly.  They  had  a  post- 
ing carriage  at  the  porch,  sir,  and  had  stopped  to  hear  the 
organ,  they  said.  And  then  they  said — she  said,  1  mean.  '  I 
believe  you  live  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sir  .^ '  I  said  I  had  that 
honor,  and  I  took  the  liberty,  sir,''  added  Tom,  raising  his 
eyes  to  his  benefactor's  face,  "  of  saying,  as  I  always  will  and 
must,  with  your  permission,  that  I  was  under  great  obligations 
to  you,  and  never  could  express  my  sense  of  them  sufficiently." 

"  That,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  was  very,  very  wrong.  Take 
your  time,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  Thank  vou,  sir,"  cried  Tom.  "  On  that  thev  asked  me 
— she  asked,  I  mean — 'Wasn't  there  a  bridle  road  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  house — 1 


!    )) 


344  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  suddenly  became  full  of  interest. 

"'Without  going  by  the  Dragon?'  When  I  said  there 
was,  and  said  how  happy  1  should  be  to  show  it  'em,  they 
sent  the  carriage  on  by  the  road,  and  came  with  me  across 
the  meadows.  I  left  'em  at  the  turnstile  to  run  forward  and 
tell  you  they  were  coming,  and  they'll  be  here,  sir,  in — in  less 
than  a  minute's  time,  I  should  say,"  added  Tom,  fetching  his 
breath  with  difficulty. 

"Now,  who,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pondering,  "who  may 
these  people  be  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul,  sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  "  I  meant  to  mention 
that  at  first,  I  thought  I  had.  I  knew  them — her,  I  mean- 
directly.  The  gentleman  who  was  ill  at  the  Dragon,  sir,  last 
winter  ;  and  the  young  lady  who  attended  him." 

Tom's  teeth  chattered  in  his  head,  and  he  positively  stag- 
gered with  amazement,  at  witnessing  the  extraordinary  effect 
produced  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  by  these  simple  words.  The 
dread  of  losing  the  old  man's  favor  almost  as  soon  as  they 
were  reconciled,  through  the  mere  fact  of  having  Jonas  in  the 
house ;  the  impossibility  of  dismissing  Jonas,  or  shutting  him 
up,  or  tying  him  hand  and  foot  and  putting  him  in  the  coal- 
cellar,  without  offending  him — beyond  recall ;  the  horrible  dis- 
cordance prevailing  in  the  establishment,  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  reducing  it  to  decent  harmony,  with  Charity  in  loud 
hysterics,  Mercy  in  the  utmost  disorder,  Jonas  in  the  parlor, 
and  Martin  Chuzzlewit  and  his  young  charge  upon  the  ver)' 
door-steps  ;  the  total  hopelessness  of  being  able  to  disguise 
or  feasibly  explain  this  state  of  rampant  confusion  ;  the  sudden 
accumulation  over  his  devoted  head  of  ever)^  complicated 
perplexity  and  entanglement  for  his  extrication  from  which  he 
had  trusted  to  time,  good  fortune,  chance,  and  his  own  plot- 
ting, so  filled  the  entrapped  architect  with  dismay,  that  if  Tom 
could  have  been  a  Gorgon  staring  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr. 
Pecksniff  could  have  been  a  Gorgon  staring  at  Tom,  they  could 
not  have  horrified  each  other  half  so  much  as  in  their  own 
bewildered  persons. 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  Tom,  "  what  have  I  done  .-"  I  hoped 
it  would  be  a  pleasant  surprise,  sir.  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  know." 

But  at  that  moment  a  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  hall 
door. 


\ 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


345 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MORE  AMERICAN  EXPERIENCES.  MARTIN  TAKES  A  PARTNER, 
AND  MAKES  A  PURCHASE.  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  EDEN,  AS 
IT  APPEARED  ON  PAPER.  ALSO  OF  THE  BRITISH  LION. 
ALSO  OF  THE  KIND  OF  SYMPATHY  PROFESSED  AND  ENTER- 
TAINED BY  THE  WATERTOAST  ASSOCIATION  OF  UNITED 
SYMPATHIZERS. 

The  knocking  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  door,  though  loud  enough, 
bore  no  resemblance  whatever  to  the  noise  of  an  American 
railway  train  at  full  speed.  It  may  be  well  to  begin  the  pres- 
ent chapter  with  this  frank  admission,  lest  the  reader  should 
imairine  that  the  sounds  now  deafeninir  this  histor\-"s  ears  have 
any  connection  with  the  knocker  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's  door,  or 
with  the  great  amount  of  agitation  pretty  equally  divided  be- 
tween that  worthy  man  and  Mr.  Pinch,  of  which  its  strong 
performance  was  the  cause. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  is  more  than  a  thousand  leagues 
away  ;  and  again  this  ha]Dpy  chronicle  has  Liberty  and  Moral 
Sensibility  for  its  high  companions.  Again  it  breathes  the  bless- 
ed air  of  Independence  ;  again  it  contemplates  with  pious  awe 
that  moral  sense  which  renders  unto  Cassar  nothing  that  is  his  ; 
again  inhales  that  sacred  atmosphere  which  was  the  life  of 
him — oh  noble  patriot,  with  many  followers  ! — who  dreamed 
of  Freedom  in  a  slave's  embrace,  and  waking  sold  her  off- 
spring and  his  own  in  public  markets, 

How  the  wheels  clank  and  rattle,  and  the  tram-road 
shakes,  as  the  train  rushes  on  !  And  now  the  engine  yells, 
as  it  were  lashed  and  tortured  like  a  living  laborer,  and  writhed 
in  agony.  A  poor  fancy  ;  for  steel  and  iron  are  of  infi- 
nitely greater  account,  in  this  commonwealth,  of  flesh  and 
blood.  If  the  cunning  work  of  man  be  urged  beyond  its  power 
of  endurance,  it  has  within  it  the  elements  of  its  own  revenge  \ 
whereas  the  wretched  mechanism  of  the  Divine  Hand  is  dan- 
gerous with  no  such  property,  but  may  be  tampered  with,  and 
crushed,  and  broken,  at  the  driver's  pleasure.  Look  at  that 
engine  !  It  shall  cost  a  man  more  dollars  in  the  way  of  pen- 
ally and  fine,  and  satisfaction  of  the  outraged  law,  to  deface 
in  wantonness  that  senseless  mass  of  metal,  than  to  take  the 


346  MARThV  CHUZZLEWIT. 

lives  of  twenty  humart  creatures  !  Tims  the  stars  wink  upon 
the  bloody  stripes ;  and  Liberty  pulls  down  her  cap  on  her 
eyes,  and  owns  Oppression  in  its  vilest  aspect,  for  her  sister. 
The  engine-driver  of  the  train  whose  noise  awoke  us  to 
the  present  chapter,  was  certainly  troubled  with  no  such  re- 
flections as  these  ;  nor  is  it  very  probable  that  his  mind  was 
disturbed  by  any  reflections  at  all.  He  leaned  with  folded 
arms  and  crossed  legs  against  the  side  of  the  carriage,  smok- 
ing ;  and  except  when  he  expressed,  by  a  grunt  as  short  as  his 
pipe,  his  approval  of  some  particularly  dexterous  aim  on  the 
part  of  his  colleague,  the  fireman,  who  beguiled  his  leisure  by 
throwing  logs  of  wood  from  the  tender  at  the  numerous  stray 
cattle  on  the  line,  he  preserved  a  composure  so  immovable, 
and  an  indifference  so  complete,  that  if  the  locomotive  had 
been  a  sucking-pig,  he  could  not  have  been  more  perfectly  in- 
different to  its  doings.  Notwithstanding  the  tranquil  state  of 
this  ofticer,  and  his  unbroken  peace  of  mind,  ti.e  train  was 
proceeding  with  tolerable  rapidity  ;  and  the  rails  being  but 
poorly  laid,  the  jolts  and  bumps  it  met  with  in  its  progress 
were  neither  slight  nor  few. 

There  were  three  great  caravans  or  cars  attached.  The 
ladies'  car,  the  gentlemen's  car,  and  the  cars  for  negroes  : 
the  latter  painted  black,  as  an  appropriate  compliment  to  its 
company.  Martin  and  Mark  Tapley  were  in  the  first,  as  it 
was  the  most  comfortable  ;  and,  being  far  from  full,  received 
other  gentlemen  who,  like  them,  were  unblessed  by  the  society 
of  ladies  of  their  own.  They  were  seated  side  by  side,  and 
were  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 

"  And  so,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  looking  at  him  with  an  anx- 
ious expression,  "  and  so  you  are  glad  we  have  left  New  York 
far  behind  us,  are  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mark.     "  I  am.     Precious  glad." 

"  Were  you  not  'jolly  '  there  .-*  "  asked  Martin. 

"  On  the  contraiiy,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  The  jolliest 
week  as  ever  I  spent  in  my  life,  was  that  there  week  at  Paw- 
kins's." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  our  prospects .'  "  inquired  Martin, 
with  an  air  that  plainly  said  he  had  avoided  the  question  for 
some  time. 

"  Uncommon  bright,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  Impossible 
for  a  place  to  ha\e  a  better  name,  sir,  than  the  Walley  of 
Eden,  No  man  couldn't  think  of  setting  in  a  better  place 
than  the  Walley  of  Eden.     And  I'm  told,"  added  Mark  after 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


347 


a  pause,  "  as  there's  lot's  of  serpents  there,  so  we  shall  come 
out,  quite  complete  and  reg'lar." 

So  far  from  dwelling  upon  this  agreeable  piece  of  infor- 
mation with  the  least  dismay,  Mark's  face  grew  radiant  as  he 
called  it  to  mind  ;  so  very  radiant  that  a  stranger  might  have 
supposed  he  had  all  his  life  been  yearning  for  the  society  of 
serpents,  and  now  hailed  with  delight  the  approaching  con- 
summation of  his  fondest  wishes. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  asked  Martin,  sternly. 

"A  military  ofificer,"  said  Mark. 

"  Confound  you  for  a  ridiculous  fellow  !  "  cried  Martin, 
laughing  heartily  in  spite  of  himself.  "  What  military  otificer  ? 
You  know  they  spring  up  in  oxcx^  field." 

"  As  thick  as  scarecrows  in  England,  sir,"  interposed 
Mark,  "which  is  a  sort  of  militia  themselves,  being  entirely 
coat  and  wescoat,  with  a  stick  inside.  Ha,  ha  !  Don't  mind 
me,  sir  ;  it's  my  way  sometimes.  I  can't  help  being  jolly. 
Why  it  was  one  of  them  inwading  conquerors  at  Pawkins's,  as 
told  me.  '  Am  I  rightly  informed,'  he  says — not  exactly 
through  his  nose,  but  as  if  he'd  got  a  stoppage  in  it,  very  high 
up — '  that  you're  a  going  to  the  Walley  of  Eden  ?  '  'I  heard 
some  talk  on  it,'  I  told  him.  'Oh  !  '  savs  he,  '  if  vou  should 
ever  happen  to  go  to  bed  there^you  may,  \o\\  know,'  he  says, 
*  in  course  of  time  as  civilization  progresses — don't  foi^get 
to  take  a  axe  with  you.'  .1  looks  at  him  tolerable  hard. 
'  Fleas  ? '  says  L  '  And  more,'  says  he.  '  Wampires  ? '  says 
I.  '  And  more,'  says  he.  '  Musquitoes,  perhaps  ? '  says  L 
'  And  more,'  says  he.  '  What  more  ? '  says  I.  '  Snakes  more,' 
says  he ;  '  rattlesnakes.  You're  right  to  a  certain  extent, 
stranger.  There  air  some  catawampous  chawers  in  the  small 
way  too,  as  graze  upon  a  human  pretty  strong;  but  don't 
mind  them,  they're  company.  It's  snakes,'  he  says,  'as  you'll 
object  to  ;  and  whenever  you  wake  and  see  one  in  an  upright 
poster  on  your  bed,'  he  says,  '  like  a  corkscrew  with  the  han- 
dle off  a  sittin'  on  its  bottom  ring,  cut  him  down,  for  he 
means  wenom.'  " 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before  !  "  cried  Martin,  with 
an  expression  of  face  which  set  off  the  cheerfulness  of  Mark's 
visage  to  great  advantage. 

"  I  never  thought  on  it,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  It  come  in  at  one 
ear,  and  went  out  at  the  other.  But  Lord  love  us,  he  was  one 
of  another  Company  I  dare  say,  and  only  made  up  the  story 
that  we  might  go  to  his  Eden,  and  not  the  opposition  one." 


348 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"There's  some  probability  in  that,"  observed  Martin  ;  "  I 
can  honestly  say  that  i  hope  so,  witii  all  my  heart." 

"  I've  not  a  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  who,  full 
of  the  inspiriting  influence  of  the  anecdote  upon  himself,  had 
for  the  moment  forgotten  its  probable  effect  upon  his  master  : 
"  anyhow,  we  must  live,  you  know,  sir." 

"  Live  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  Yes,  it's  easy  to  say  live  ;  but 
if  we  should  happen  not  to  wake  when  rattlesnakes  are  making 
corkscrews  of  themselves  upon  our  beds,  it  may  be  not  so 
easy  to  do  it." 

"  And  that's  a  fact,"  said  a  voice  so  close  in  his  ear  that 
it  tickled  him.     "That's  dreadful  true." 

Martin  looked  round,  and  found  that  a  gentleman,  on  the 
seat  behind,  had  thrust  his  head  between  himself  and  Mark, 
and  sat  with  his  chin  resting  on  the  back  rail  of  their  little 
bench,  entertaining  himself  with  their  conversation.  He  was 
as  languid  and  listless  in  his  looks  as  most  of  the  gentlemen 
they  had  seen  ;  his  cheeks  were  so  hollow  that  he  seemed  to 
be  always  sucking  them  in  ;  and  the  sun  had  burnt  him,  not  a 
wholesome  red  or  brown,  but  dirty  yellow.  He  had  bright 
dark  eyes,  which  he  kept  half  closed  ;  only  peeping  out  of  the 
corners,  and  even  then  with  a  glance  that  seemed  to  say, 
"  Now  you  won't  overreach  me  :  you  want  to,  but  you  won't." 
His  arms  rested  carelessly  on  his  knees  as  he  leant  forward  ; 
in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  as  English  rustics  have  their 
slice  of  cheese,  he  had  a  cake  of  tobacco  ;  in  his  right  a  pen- 
knife. He  struck  into  the  dialogue  with  as  little  reserve  as 
if  he  had  been  specially  called  in,  days  before,  to  hear  the 
arguments  on  both  sides,  and  favor  them  with  his  opinion  ; 
and  he  no  more  contemplated  or  cared  for  the  possibility  of 
their  not  desiring  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance  or  interference 
in  their  private  affairs,  than  if  he  had  been  a  bear  or  a  buffalo. 

"That,"  he  repeated,  nodding  condescendingly  to  Martin, 
as  to  an  outer  barbarian  and  foreigner,  "  is  dreadful  true. 
Darn  all  manner  of  vermin." 

Martin  could  not  help  frowning  for  a  moment,  as  if  he 
were  disposed  to  insinuate  that  the  gentleman  had  uncon- 
sciously "  darned  "  himself.  But  remembering  the  wisdom 
of  doing  at  Rome  as  Romans  do,  he  smiled  with  the  pleasant- 
est  expression  he  could  assume  upon  so  short  a  notice. 

Their  new  friend  said  no  more  just  then,  being  busily  em- 
ployed in  cutting  a  quid  or  plug  from  his  cake  of  tobacco,  and 
whistling  softly  to  himself  the  while.     When  he  had  shaped  il 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  349 

to  his  liking,  ])e  took  out  his  old  plug,  and  deposited  the  same 
on  the  back  of  the  seat  between  Mark  and  Martin,  while  he 
thrust  the  new  one  into  the  hollow  of  his  cheek,  where  it 
looked  liked  a  large  walnut,  or  tolerable  pippin.  Finding  it 
quite  satisfactory,  he  struck  the  point  of  his  knife  into  the  old 
plug,  and  holding  it  out  for  their  inspection,  remarked  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had  not  lived  in  vain,  that  it  was  "used 
up  considerable."  Then  he  tossed  it  away,  put  his  knife  into 
one  pocket  and  his  tobacco  into  another,  rested  his  chin  upon 
the  rail  as  before,  and  approving  of  the  pattern  on  Martin's 
waistcoat,  reached  out  his  hand  to  feel  the  texture  of  that 
garment. 

"  What  do  you  call  this  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Upon  mv  \'ford,"  said  Martin,  "  I  don't  know  what  it  is 
called." 

"  It'll  cost  a  dollar  or  more  a  yard,  I  reckon  ? " 

"  I  really  don't  know." 

"In  my  country,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  we  know  the  cost 
of  our  own  produce." 

Martin  not  discussing  the  question,  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Well  !  "  resumed  their  new  friend,  after  staring  at  them 
intently  during  the  whole  interval  of  silence,  "how's  the  un- 
nat'ral  old  parent  by  this  time .''  " 

Mr.  Tapley  regarding  this  inquiry  as  only  another  version 
of  the  impertinent  English  question,  "  How's  your  mother  .^  " 
would  have  resented  it  instantly,  but  for  Martin's  prompt 
interposition. 

"  You  mean  the  old  country.?  "  he  said. 

"Ah!"  was  the  rei^Iv.  "How's  she!  Procrressins: 
back'ards  I  expect,  as  usual  ?  Well  !  How's  Queen 
Victoria  ?  " 

"  In  good  health,  I  believe,"  said  Martin. 

"Queen  Victoria  won't  shake  in  licr  royal  shoes  at  all, 
when  she  hears  to-morrow  named,''  observed  the  stranger. 
"No."' 

"  Not  that  I  aiii  aware  of.     Why  should  she.'  " 

"  She  won't  be  taken  with  a  cold  chill,  when  slie  realizes 
what  is  being  done  in  these  diggings,"  said  the  stranger. 
"  No." 

"  No,"  said  Martin.  "  I  think  1  could  take  my  oath  of 
that." 

The  strange  gentleman  looked  at  him  as  if  in  pity  for  his 
ignorance  or  prejudice,  and  said  : 


35° 


MARTIN-  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Well,  sir,  I  tell  you  this — there  ain't  a  en-gine  with  its 
biler  bust,  in  God  A'mighty's  free  U-nited  States,  so  fixed,  and 
nipped,  and  frizzled  to  a  most  e-tarnal  smash,  as  that  young 
critter,  in  her  luxurious  location  in  the  Tower  of  London,  will 
be,  when  she  reads  the  next  double-extra  Watertoast  Ga- 
zette." 

Several  other  gentlemen  had  left  their  seats  and  gathered 
round  during  the  foregoing  dialogue.  They  were  highly  de- 
lighted with  this  speech.  One  very  lank  gentleman,  in  a  loose 
limp  white  cravat,  a  long  white  waistcoat,  and  a  black  great- 
coat, who  seemed  to  be  in  authority  among  them,  felt  called 
upon  to  acknowledge  it. 

"  Hem  !  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,"  he  said,  taking  off  his 
hat. 

There  was  a  grave  murmur  of  "  Hush  !  " 

"  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle  !     Sir  !  " 

Mr.  Kettle  bowed. 

"  In  the  name  of  this  company,  sir,  and  in  the  name  of  our 
common  country,  and  in  the  name  of  that  righteous  cause  of 
holy  sympathy  in  which  we  are  engaged,  I  thank  you.  I  thank 
you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  ;  and  I 
thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  Watertoast  Gazette  ;  and  I 
thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  star-spangled  banner  of  the 
Great  United  States,  for  your  eloquent  and  categorical  expo- 
sition. And  if,  sir,"  said  the  speaker,  poking  Martin  with  the 
handle  of  his  umbrella  to  bespeak  his  attention,  for  he  was 
listening  to  a  whisper  from  Mark  ;  "  if,  sir,  in  such  a  place, 
and  at  such  a  time,  I  might  venture  to  con-elude  with  a  senti- 
ment, glancing — however  slantin'dicularly — at  the  subject  in 
hand,  I  would  say,  sir,  may  the  British  TJon  have  his  talons 
eradicated  by  the  noble  bill  of  the  American  Eagle,  and  be 
taught  to  play  upon  the  Irish  Harp  and  the  Scotch  Fiddle 
that  music  which  is  breathed  in  ever}-  empty  shell  that  lies 
upon  the  shores  of  green  Columbia  ! " 

Here  the  lank  gentleman  sat  down  again,  amidst  a  great 
sensation  ;  and  every  one  looked  very  grave. 

"  General  Choke,"  said  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  "  you 
warm  my  heart ;  sir,  you  warm  my  heart.  But  the  p]ritisb 
Lion  is  not  unrepresented  here,  sir ;  and  I  should  be  glad  to 
hear  his  answer  to  those  remarks." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Martin,  laughing,  "since  you  do 
me  the  honor  to  consider  me  his  representative,  I  have  only 
to  say  that  I  never  heard  of  Queen  Victoria    reading   the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  351 

What's-his-name  Gazette,  and  that  I  should  scarcely  think  it 
probable." 

General  Choke  smiled  upon  the  rest,  and  said,  in  patient 
and  benignant  explanation  ; 

"  It  is  sent  to  her,  sir.     It  is  sent  to  her.     Per  mail." 

"  But  if  it  is  addressed  to  the  Tower  of  London,  it  would 
hardly  come  to  hand,  I  fear,"  returned  Martin  3  "for  she 
don't  live  there." 

"  The  Queen  of  England,  gentlemen,"  observed  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  affecting  the  greatest  politeness,  and  regarding  them  with 
an  immovable  face,  "  usually  lives  in  the  Mint  to  take  care  of 
the  money.  She  has  lodgings,  in  virtue  of  her  office,  with  the 
Lord  Mayor  at  the  Mansion-House  ;  but  don't  often  occupy 
them,  in  consequence  of  the  parlor-chimney  smoking." 

"  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "  1  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to 
you  if  you'll  have  the  goodness  not  to  interfere  with  prepos- 
terous statements,  however  jocose  they  may  appear  to  you. 
I  was  merely  remarking,  gentlemen — though  it's  a  point  of 
very  little  import — that  the  Queen  of  England  does  not  hap- 
pen to  live  in  the  Tower  of  London." 

"  General  !  "  cried  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle.     "  You  hear  >.  " 

"  General !  "  echoed  several  others.     "  General  !  " 

"  Hush  !  Pray,  silence  !  "  said  General  Choke,  holding 
up  his  hand,  and  speaking  with  a  patient  and  complacent 
benevolence  that  was  quite  touching.  "  I  have  always  re- 
marked it  as  a  very  extraordinar)^  circumstance,  which  I  im- 
pute to  the  natur'  of  British  Institutions  and  their  tendency 
to  suppress  that  popular  inquiry  and  information  which  air  so 
widely  diffused  even  in  the  trackless  forests  of  this  vast  Con- 
tinent of  the  Western  Ocean  ;  that  tlie  knowledge  of  Britishers 
themselves  on  such  points  is  not  to  be  compared  with  that 
possessed  by  our  intelligent  and  locomotive  citizens.  This  is 
interesting,  and  confirms  my  observation.  When  you  say, 
sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  Martin,  "  that  your  Queen  does 
not  reside  in  the  Tower  of  London,  you  fall  into  an  error,  not 
uncommon  to  your  countrymen,  even  when  their  abilities  and 
moral  elements  air  such  as  to  command  respect.  But,  sir,  you 
air  wrong.     She  does  live  there — " 

"  When  she  is  at  the  Court  of  Saint  James's,"  interposed 
Kettle. 

"  When  she  is  at  the  Court  of  Saint  James's,  of  course," 
returned  the  General,  in  the  same  benignant  way  ;  "  for  if  her 
location  was  in  Windsor  Pavilion  it  couldn't  be  in  London  at 


352 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


the  same  time.  Your  Tower  of  London,  sir,"  pursued  the 
General,  smiling  with  a  mild  consciousness  of  his  knowledge, 
"  is  nat'rally  your  royal  residence.  Being  located  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  your  Parks,  your  Drives,  your 
Triumphant  Arches,  your  Opera,  and  your  Royal  Almacks,  it 
nat'rally  suggests  itself  as  the  place  for  holding  a  luxurious 
and  thoughtless  court.  And,  consequently,"  said  the  General, 
"  consequently,  the  court  is  held  there." 

"  Have  you  been  in  England  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  In  print  I  have,  sir,"  said  the  General,  "  not  otherwise. 
We  air  a  reading  people  here,  sir.  You  will  meet  with  much 
information  among  us  that  will  surprise  you,  sir." 

"I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  returned  Martin.  But 
here  he  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  who  whis- 
pered in  his  ear : 

"  You  know  General  Choke  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  Martin,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  You  know  what  he  is  considered  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  country  ?  "  said 
Martin,  at  a  venture. 

"  That's  a  fact/'  rejoined  Kettle.  "  I  was  sure  you  must 
have  heard  of  him  !  " 

"I  think,"  said  Martin,  addressing  himself  to  the  General 
again,  "  that  I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  the  bearer  of  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  you,  sir.  From  Mr.  Bevan,  of  Massachu- 
setts," he  added,  giving  it  to  him. 

The  General  took  it  and  read  it  attentively,  now  and  then 
stopping  to  glance  at  the  two  strangers.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished the  note,  he  came  over  to  Martin,  sat  down  by  him,  and 
shook  hands. 

"  Well  !  "  he  said,  "  and  you  think  of  settling  in  Eden  ?  " 

"Subject  to  your  opinion,  and  the  agent's  advice,"  replied 
Martin.  "  I  am  told  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  in  the  old 
towns." 

"  I  can  introduce  you  to  the  agent,  sir,"  said  the  General. 
"  I  know  him.  In  fact,  I  am  a  member  of  the  Eden  Land 
Corporation  myself." 

This  was  serious  news  to  Martin,  for  his  friend  had  laid 
great  stress  upon  the  General's  having  no  connection,  as  he 
thought,  with  any  land  company,  and  therefore  being  likely  to 
give  hmi  disinterested  advice.  The  General  explained  that  he 
had  joined  the  Corporation  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  that  no 
communication  had  passed  between  himself  and  Mr.  Bevan 
since. 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


353 


"  We  have  very  little  to  venture,"  said  Martin  anxiously  : 
*'  only  a  few  pounds  ;  but  it  is  our  all.  Now,  do  you  think 
that  for  one  of  my  profession,  this  would  be  a  speculation 
with  any  hope  or  chance  in  it  ?  " 

"Well,"  observed  the  General,  gravely,  "if  there  wasn't 
any  hope  or  chance  in  the  speculation,  it  wouldn't  have  en- 
gaged my  dollars,  1  opinionate." 

"  1  don't  mean  for  the  sellers,"  said  Martin.  "  For  the 
buyers,  for  the  buyers  !  " 

"  For  the  buyers,  sir  ?  "  observed  the  General,  in  a  most 
impressi\'e  manner.  "  Well !  you  come  from  an  old  country  : 
from  a  country,  sir,  that  has  piled  up  golden  calves  as  high  as 
Babel,  and  worshipped  'em  for  ages.  We  are  a  new  country, 
sir  ;  man  is  in  a'more  primeval  state  here,  sir ;  we  have  not 
the  excuse  of  having  lapsed  in  the  slow  course  of  time  into 
degenerate  practices  ;  we  have  no  false  gods  ;  man,  sir,  here, 
is  man  in  all  his  dignity.  We  fought  for  that  or  nothing. 
Here  am  I,  sir,"  said  the  General,  setting  up  his  umbrella  to 
represent  himself — and  a  villanous-looking  umbrella  it  was  ; 
a  very  bad  counter  to  stand  for  the  sterling  coin  of  his  benevo- 
lence— "  here  am  I  with  gray  hairs,  sir,  and  a  moral  sense. 
Would  I,  with  my  principles,  invest  capital  in  this  speculation 
if  I  didn't  think  it  full  of  hopes  and  chances  for  my  brother 
man  ? " 

Martin  tried  to  look  convinced,  but  he  thought  of  New 
York,  and  found  it  difficult. 

"What  are  the  Great  United  States  for,  sir,"  pursued  the 
General,  "  if  not  for  the  regeneration  of  man  ?  But  it  is 
natVal  in  you  to  make  such  an  enquerry,  for  you  come  from 
England,  and  you  do  not  know  my  country." 

"Then  you  think,"  said  Martin,  "that  allowing  for  the 
hardships  we  are  prepared  to  undergo,  there  is  a  reasonable 
— Heaven  knows  we  don't  expect  much — a  reasonable  open- 
ing in  this  place  ?  " 

"  A  reasonable  opening  in  Eden,  sir  !  But  see  the  agent, 
see  the  agent  ;  see  the  maps,  and  plans,  sir  ;  and  conclude  to 
go  or  stay,  according  to  the  natur'  of  the  settlement.  Eden 
hadn't  need  to  go  a  begging  yet,  sir,"  remarked  the  General. 

"It  is  an  awful  lovely  pLice,  sure-ly.  And  frightful  wliole- 
some,  likewise  !  "  said  Mr.  Kettle,  who  had  made  himself  a 
party  to  this  conversation  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Martin  felt  that  to  dispute  such  testimony,  for  no  better 
reason  than  because  he  had  his  secret  misgivings  on  the  sub- 

^2> 


354  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

ject,  would  be  ungentlemanly  and  indecent.  So  he  thanked 
the  General  for  his  promise  to  put  him  in  personal  communica- 
tion with  the  agent ;  and  "  concluded  "  to  see  that  officer 
next  morning.  He  then  begged  the  General  to  inform  him 
who  the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  were,  of  whom  he  had 
spoken  in  addressing  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  and  on  what 
grievances  they  bestowed  their  Sympathy.  To  which  the 
General,  looking  very  serious,  made  answer,  that  he  might 
fully  enlighten  himself  on  those  points  to-morrow  by  attend- 
ing a  Great  Meeting  of  the  Body,  which  would  then  be  held 
at  the  town  to  which  they  were  travelling  :  "  over  which,  sir," 
said  the  General,  "  my  fellow-citizens  have  called  on  me  to 
preside." 

They  came  to  their  journey's  end  late  in  the  evening. 
Close  to  the  railway  was  an  immense  white  edifice,  like  an 
ugly  hospital,  on  which  was  painted  "  National  Hotel." 
There  was  a  wooden  gallery  or  veranda  in  front,  in  which  it 
was  rather  startling,  when  the  train  stopped,  to  behold  a  great 
many  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes,  and  the  smoke  of  a  great 
many  cigars,  but  no  other  evidences  of  human  habitation.  By 
slow  degrees,  however,  some  heads  and  shoulders  appeared, 
and  connecting  themselves  with  the  boots  and  shoes,  led  to 
the  discovery  that  certain  gentlemen  boarders,  who  had  a 
fancy  for  putting  their  heels  where  the  gentlemen  boarders  in 
other  countries  usually  put  their  heads,  were  enjoying  them- 
selves after  their  own  manner  in  the  cool  of  the  evening. 

There  was  a  great  bar-room  in  this  hotel,  and  a  great  public 
room  in  which  the  general  table  was  being  set  out  for  supper. 
There  were  interminable  whitewashed  staircases,  long  white- 
washed galleries  up  stairs  and  down  stairs,  scores  of  little 
whitewashed  bed-rooms,  and  a  four-sided  veranda  to  every 
story  in  the  house,  which  formed  a  large  brick  square  with  an 
uncomfortable  court-yard  in  the  centre,  where  some  clothes 
were  dr3ing.  Here  and  there,  some  yawning  gentlemen  lounged 
up  and  down  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets  ;  but  within 
the  house  and  without,  wherever  half  a  dozen  people  were 
collected  together,  there,  in  their  looks,  dress,  morals,  man- 
ners, habits,  intellect,  and  conversation,  were  Mr.  Jefferson 
Brick,  Colonel  Diver,  Major  Pawkins,  General  Choke,  and 
Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  over,  and  over,  and  over  again.  They 
did  the  same  things,  said  the  same  things,  judged  all  sub- 
jects by,  and  reduced  all  subjects  to,  the  same  standard. //Ob- 
serving how  they  lived,  and   how  they  were   always  in  the  en- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEiriT. 


355 


chanting  company  of  each  other,  Martin  even  began  to  com- 
prehend their  being  the  social,  cheerful,  winning,  airy  men 
they  were. 

At  the  sounding  of  a  dismal  gong,  this  pleasant  company 
went  trooping  down  from  all  parts  of  the  house  to  the  public 
room  ;  while  from  the  neighboring  stores  other  guests  came 
tlocking  in,  in  shoals ;  for  half  the  town,  married  folks  as  well 
as  single,  resided  at  the  National  Hotel.  Tea,  coffee,  dried 
meats,  tongue,  ham,  pickles,  cake,  toast,  preserves,  and  bread 
and  butter,  were  sw'allowed  with  the  usual  ravaging  speed  ; 
and  then,  as  before,  the  company  dropped  off  by  degrees,  and 
lounged  away  to  the  desk,  the  counter,  or  the  bar-room.  I'he 
ladies  had  a  smaller  ordinary  of  their  own,  to  which  their  hus- 
bands and  brothers  were  admitted  if  they  chose  ;  and  in  all 
other  respects  they  enjoyed  themselves  as  at  Pawkins's. 

"Now,  Mark,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Martin,  closing  the 
door  of  his  little  chamber,  "  we  must  hold  a  solemn  council, 
for  our  fate  is  decided  to-morrow  morning.  You  are  deter- 
mined to  invest  these  savings  of  yours  in  the  common  stock, 
are  you  ?  " 

"  If  1  hadn't  been  determined  to  make  that  wentur,  sir," 
answered  Mr.  Tapley,  "  I  shouldn't  have  come." 

"  How  much  is  there  here,  did  you  say .-'  "  asked  Martin, 
holding  up  a  little  bag. 

"Thirty-seven  pound  ten  and  sixpence.  The  Savings' 
Bank  said  so,  at  least,  I  never  counted  it.  But  they  know, 
bless  you  !  "  said  Mark,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  expressive 
of  his  unbounded  confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  arithmetic  of 
those  Institutions. 

"  The  money  we  brought  with  us,"  said  Martin,  "  is  re- 
duced to  a  few  shillings  less  than  eight  pounds." 

Mr.  Tapley  smiled,  and  looked  all  manner  of  ways,  tliat  he 
might  not  be  supposed  to  attach  any  importance  to  this  fact. 

"Upon  the  ring — //ev  ring,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  looking 
ruefully  at  his  empty  finger — 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  Mr.  Tapley.     "  Beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

"  —  We  raised,  in  English  money,  fourteen  pounds.  So, 
even  with  that,  your  share  of  the  stock  is  still  very  much  the 
larger  of  the  two,  you  see.  Now,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  in  his 
old  way,  just  as  he  might  have  spoken  to  Tom  Pinch,  "  1  ha\e 
thought  of  a  means  of  making  this  up  to  you,  more  than 
making  it  up  to  you  I  hope,  and  very  materially  elevating 
your  prospects  in  life." 


356  ^/-^  ^  TIN-  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  Oh  !  don't  talk  of  that,  3'ou  know,  sir,"  returned  Mark. 
"  I  don't  want  no  elevating,  sir.  I'm  all  right  enough,  sir,  / 
am." 

"  No,  but  hear  me,"  said  Mariin,  "  because  this  is  very  im- 
portant to  you,  and  a  great  satisfaction  to  me.  Mark,  you 
shall  be  a  partner  in  the  business — an  equal  partner  with  my- 
self. I  will  put  in,  as  my  additional  capital,  my  professional 
knowledge  and  ability  ;  and  half  the  annual  profits,  as  long  as 
it  is  carried  on,  shall  be  yours." 

Poor  Martin  !  For  ever  building  castles  in  tl^e  air.  For 
ever,  in  his  very  selfishness,  forgetful  of  all  but  his  own  teem- 
ing hopes  and  sanguine  plans.  Swelling,  at  that  instant,  with 
the  consciousness  of  patronizing  and  most  munificently  re- 
warding Mark  ! 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  Mark  rejoined,  much  more  sadly  than 
his  custom  was,  though  from  a  very  different  cause  than  Martin 
supposed,  "  what  I  can  say  to  this,  in  the  way  of  thanking 
you.  I'll  stand  by  you,  sir,  to  the  best  of  my  abilitv,  and  to 
the  last.     That's  all." 

"  We  quite  understand  each  other,  my  good  fellow,"  said 
Martin,  rising  in  self-approval  and  condescension.  "  We  are 
no  longer  master  and  servant,  but  friends  and  partners  ;  and 
are  mutuallv  gratified.  If  we  determine  on  Eden,  the  business 
shall  be  commenced  as  soon  as  we  get  there.  Under  the 
name,"  said  Martin,  who  never  hammered  upon  an  idea  that 
Wasn't  red  hot — "under  the  name  of  Chuzzlewit  and  Tapley." 

"Lord  love  you,  sir,"  cried  Mark,  "don't  have  my  name 
in  it.  I  ain't  acquainted  with  the  business,  sir.  I  must  be 
Co.,  I  must.  I've  often  thought,"  he  added,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  as  I  should  like  to  know  a  Co.  ;  but  I  little  thought  as  ever 
I  should  li\e  to  be  one." 

"You  shall  have  your  own  way,  Mark." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir.  If  any  country  gentleman  thereabouts,  m 
the  public  way,  or  otherwise,  wanted  such  a  thing  as  a  skittle- 
ground  made,  I  could  take  that  part  of  the  bis'ness,  sir." 

"  Against  any  architect  in  the  States,"  said  Martin.  "Get 
a  couple  of  sherry-cobblers,  Mark,  and  we'll  drink  success  to 
the  firm." 

Either  he  forgot  already  (and  often  afterwards),  that  they 
were  no  longer  master  and  servant,  or  considered  this  kind  of 
duty  to  be  among  the  legitimate  functions  of  the  Co.  But 
Mark  obeyed  with  his  usual  alacrity ;  and  before  they  parted 
for  the  night,  it  was  agreed  between  them  that  they  should  go 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT. 


357 


together  to  the  agent's  in  the  morning,  but  that  Martin  should 
decide  the  Eden  question,  on  his  own  sound  judgment.  And 
Mark  made  no  merit,  even  to  himself  in  his  jollity,  of  this 
concession  ;  perfectly  well  knowing  that  the  matter  would 
come  to  that  in  the  end,  any  way. 

The  General  was  one  of  the  party  at  the  public  table  next 
day,  and  after  breakfast  suggested  that  they  should  wait  upon 
the  agent  without  loss  of  time.  They,  desiring  nothing  more, 
agreed  ;  so  off  they  all  four  started  for  the  office  of  the  Eden 
Settlement,  which  was  almost  within  rifle-shot  of  the  National 
Hotel. 

It  was  a  small  place,  something  like  a  turnpike.  But  a 
great  deal  of  land  may  be  got  into  a  dice-box,  and  why  may 
not  a  whole  territory  be  bargained  for  in  a  shed  ?  It  was  but 
a  temporary  office  too  ;  for  the  Edeners  were  "  going  "  to  build 
a  superb  establishment  for  the  transaction  of  their  business, 
and  had  already  got  so  far  as  to  mark  out  the  site.  Which  is 
a  great  way  in  America.  The  office-door  was  wide  open,  and 
in  the  door-way  was  the  agent  ;  no  doubt  a  tremendous  fellow 
to  get  through  his  work,  for  lie  seemed  to  have  no  arrears,  but 
was  swinging  backwards  and  forwards  in  a  rocking-chair,  with 
one  of  his  legs  planted  high  up  against  the  door-post,  and  the 
other  doubled  up  under  him,  as  if  he  were  hatching  his  foot. 

He  was  a  gaunt  man  in  a  huge  straw  hat,  and  a  coat  of 
green  stuff.  The  weather  being  hot,  he  had  no  cravat,  and 
wore  his  shirt  collar  wide  open  ;  so  that  every  time  he  spoke 
something  was  seen  to  twitch  and  jerk  up  in  his  throat,  like 
the  little  hammers  in  a  harpsichord  when  the  notes  are  struck. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  Truth  feebly  endeavoring  to  leap  to  his 
lips.     If  so,  it  never  reached  them. 

Two  gray  eyes  lurked  deep  within  this  agent's  head,  but 
one  of  them  had  no  sight  in  it,  and  stood  stock  still.  With 
that  side  of  his  face  he  seemed  to  listen  to  what  the  other  side 
was  doing.  Thus  each  profile  had  a  distinct  expression,  and 
when  the  movable  side  was  most  in  action,  the  rigid  one  was 
in  its  coldest  state  of  watchfulness.  It  was  like  turning  the 
man  inside  out,  to  pass  to  that  \iew  of  his  features  in  his  live- 
liest mood,  and  see  how  calculating  and  intent  they  were. 

luich  long  black  hair  upon  his  head  hung  down  as  straight 
as  any  plummet  line  ;  but  rumpled  tufts  were  on  the  arches  of 
his  eyes,  as  if  the  crow  whose  foot  was  deeply  printed  in  the 
corners,  had  pecked  and  torn  them  in  a  savage  recognition  of 
his  kindred  nature  as  a  bird  of  prey. 


35S 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


Such  was  the  man  whom  they  now  approached,  and  whom 
the  General  saluted  by  the  name  of  Scadder. 

"Well,  Gen'ral,"  he  returned,  "and  how  are  you?" 

"  Ac-tive  and  spry,  sir,  in  my  country's  service  and  the 
sympathetic  cause.  Two  gentlemen  on  business,  Mr.  Scad- 
der." 

He  shook  hands  with  each  of  them  (nothing  is  done  in 
America  without  shaking  hands)  then  went  on  rocking. 

"  1  think  I  know  what  bis'ness  you  have  brought  these 
strangers  here  upon,  then,  Gen'ral .'' " 

"  Well,  sir.     I  expect  you  may." 

"  You  air  a  tongue-y  person,  Gen'ral.  For  you  talk  too 
much,  and  that's  a  fact,"  said  Scadder.  "You  speak  a-larm- 
ing  well  in  public,  but  you  didn't  ought  to  go  ahead  so  fast  in 
private.     Now  !  " 

'.'  If  I  can  realize  your  meaning,  ride  me  on  a  rail  !  "  re- 
turned the  General,  after  pausing  for  consideration. 

"  You  know  we  didn't  wish  to  sell  the  lots  off  right  away 
to  any  loafer  as  might  bid,"  said  Scadder  \  "but  had  con-eluded 
to  reserve  'em  for  Aristocrats  of  Natur'.     Yes  !  " 

"  And  they  are  here,  sir  !  "  cried  the  General  with  warmth. 
"  They  are  here,  sir  !  " 

"  If  they  air  here,"  returned  the  agent,  in  reproachful  ac- 
cents, "  that's  enough.  But  you  didn't  ought  to  have  your 
dander  ris  with  me,  Gen'ral." 

The  General  whispered  Martin  that  Scadder  was  the  hon- 
estest  fellow  in  the  world,  and  that  he  wouldn't  have  given 
him  offence  designedly,  for  ten  thousand  dollars. 

"  1  do  my  duty  ;  and  I  raise  the  dander  of  my  fellow  crit- 
ters, as  I  wish  to  serve,"  said  Scadder  in  a  low  voice,  looking 
down  the  road  and  rocking  still.  "  They  rile  up  rough,  along 
of  my  objecting  to  their  selling  Eden  off  too  cheap.  That's 
human  natur'  !     Well  !  " 

"  Mr.  Scadder,"  said  the  General,  assuming  his  oratorical 
deportment.  "  Sir  !  Here  is  my  hand,  and  here  my  heart.  I 
esteem  you,  sir,  and  ask  your  pardon.  These  gentlemen  are 
friends  of  mine,  or  I  would  not  have  brought  'em  here,  sir, 
being  well  aware,  sir,  that  the  lots  at  present  go  entirely  too 
cheap.  But  these  air  friends,  sir  :  these  air  partick'ler 
friends." 

Mr.  Scadder  was  so  satisfied  by  this  explanation,  that  he 
shook  the  General  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  got  out  of  the 
rocking-chair  to  do  it.     He  then  invited  the  General's  particu- 


sprin^ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  3^g 

lar  friends  to  accompany  him  into  tlie  office.  As  to  the  Gen- 
eral, he  observed,  with  liis  usual  benevolence,  that  being  one 
of  the  company,  he  wouldn't  interfere  in  the  transaction  on 
any  account  \  so  he  appropriated  the  rocking-chair  to  himself, 
and  looked  at  the  prospect,  like  a  good  Samaritan  waiting  for 
a  traveller. 

"  Heyday  !  "  cried  Martin,  as  his  eye  rested  on  a  great 
plan  which  occupied  one  whole  side  of  the  office.  Indeed, 
the  office  had  little  else  in  it,  but  some  geological  and  botani- 
cal specimens,  one  or  two  rusty  ledgers,  a  homely  desk,  and 
a  stool.     "  Heyday  !  what's  that  ?  " 

"That's  Eden,"  said  Scadder,  picking  his  teeth  with  a  sort 
of  young  bayonet  that  Hew  out  of  his  knife  when  he  touched  a 

rr 

'  Why,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  a  city." 

"  Hadn't  you  >.     Oh,  it's  a  city." 

A  flourishing  city,  too  !  An  architectural  city  !  There 
were  banks,  churches,  cathedrals,  market-places,  factories,  ho- 
tels, stores,  mansions,  wharves  ;  an  exchange,  a  theatre,  pub- 
lic buildings  of  all  kinds,  down  to  the  office  of  the  P^len 
Stinger,  a  daily  journal  ;  all  faithfully  depicted  in  the  view  be- 
fore them. 

"  Dear  me  !  It's  really  a  most  important  place!"  cried 
Martin,  turning  round. 

"  Oh  !  it's  very  important,"  observed  the  agent. 

"  But,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martin,  glancing  again  al  the 
Public  Buildings,  "that  there's  nothing  left  for  me  to  do." 

"  Well,  it  ain't  all  built,"  replied  the  agent.     "  Not  quite." 

This  was  a  great  relief. 

"  The  market-place,  now,"  said  Martin.     "  Is  that  built  ?  " 

"  That  .-• "  said  the  agent,  sticking  his  toothpick  into  the 
weathercock  on  the  top.  "  Let  me  see.  No  :  that  ain't 
built." 

"  Rather  a  good  job  to  begin  with.  Eh,  Mark  1  "  whis- 
pered Martin,  nudging  him  with  his  elbow. 

Mark,  who,  with  a  very  stolid  countenance  had  been  eye- 
ing the  plan  and  the  agent  by  turns,  merely  rejoined  "  Uncom- 
mon !  " 

A  dead  silence  ensued,  Mr.  Scadder  in  some  short  recesses 
or  vacations  of  his  toothpick,  whistled  a  few  bars  of  Yankee 
Doodle,  and  blew  the  dust  off  the  roof  of  the  Theatre. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Martin,  feigning  to  look  more  narrowly 
at  the  plan,  but  showing  by  his  tremulous  voice  how  much  de- 


360 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


pended,  in  his  mind,  upon  the  answer — "  I  suppose  there  are 
— several  architects  there  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  a  single  one,"  said  Scadder. 

"  Mark,"  whispered  Martin,  pullins;  him  by  the  sleeve,  "  do 
you  hear  that  ?  But  whose  work  is  all  this  before  us,  then  ?  " 
he  asked  aloud. 

"  The  soil  being  very  fruitful,  public  buildings  grows  spon- 
taneous, perhaps,"  said  Mark. 

He  was  on  the  agent's  dark  side  as  he  said  it ;  but  Scad- 
der instantly  changed  his  place,  and  brought  his  active  eye  to 
bear  upon  him. 

"  Feel  of  my  hands,  young  man,"  he  said. 

"What  for?  "  asked  Mark,  declining. 

"  Air  they  dirty,  or  air  they  clean,  sir } "  said  Scadder, 
holding  them  out. 

In  a  physical  point  of  view  they  were  decidedly  dirty. 
But  it  being  obvious  that  Mr.  Scadder  offered  them  for  exam- 
ination in  a  figurative  sense,  as  emblems  of  his  moral  charac- 
ter, Martin  hastened  to  pronounce  them  pure  as  the  driven 
snow. 

"  I  entreat,  Mark,"  he  said,  with  some  irritation,  "  that 
you  will  not  obtrude  remarks  of  that  nature,  which,  however 
harmless  and  well-intentioned,  are  quite  out  of  place,  and  can- 
not be  expected  to  be  very  agreeable  to  strangers.  I  am  quite 
surprised." 

"  The  Co.'s  a  putting  his  foot  in  it  already,"  thought  Mark. 
"  He  must  be  a  sleeping  partner — fast  asleep  and  snoring  Co. 
must — /  see." 

Mr.  Scadder  said  nothing,  but  he  set  his  back  against  the 
plan,  and  thrust  his  toothpick  into  the  desk  some  twenty 
times,  looking  at  Mark  all  the  while  as  if  he  were  stabbing 
him  in  effig)^ 

"  You  haven't  said  whose  work  it  is,"  Martin  ventured  to 
observe,  at  length,  in  a  tone  of  mild  propitiation. 

"  Well,  never  mind  whose  work  it  is,  or  isn't,"  said  the 
agent  sulkily.  "  No  matter  how  it  did  eventuate.  P'raps  he 
cleared  off,  handsome,  with  a  heap  of  dollars  ;  p'raps  he  wasn't 
worth  a  cent.  P'raps  he  was  a  loafin'  rowdy  ;  p'raps  a  ring- 
tailed  roarer.     Now  !  " 

"  All  your  doing,  Mark  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  P'raps,"  pursued  the  agent,  "  them  a'nt  plants  of  Eden's 
raising.  No  !  P'raps  that  desk  and  stool  ain't  made  from 
Eden  lumber.     No  !     P'raps  no  end  of  squatters  ain't  gone 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


361 


out  there.     No  !     P'raps  there  ain't  no  sucli  location   in   the 
territoary  of  the  Great  U-nited  States.     Oh,  no  !  " 

"  I  hope  you're  satisfied  with  the  success  of  your  joke, 
Mark,"  said  Martin. 

But  here,  at  a  most  opportune  and  happy  time,  the  Gen- 
eral interposed,  and  called  out  to  Scadder  trom  the  doorway 
to  give  his  friends  the  particulars  of  that  little  lot  of  fifty  acres 
with  the  house  upon  it ;  which,  having  belonged  to  the  company 
formerly,  had  lately  lapsed  again  into  their  hands. 

"  You  air  a  deal  too  open-handed,  Gen'ral,"  was  the  an- 
swer.    "It  is  a  lot  as  should  be  rose  in  price.     It  is." 

He  grumblingly  opened  his  books  notwithstanding,  and  al- 
ways keeping  his.  bright  side  towards  Mark,  no  matter  at  what 
amount  of  inconvenience  to  himself,  displayed  a  certain  leaf 
for  their  perusal.     Martin  read  it  greedily,  and  then  inquired  : 

"  Now  where  upon  the  plan  may  this  place  be  ? " 

"  Upon  the  plan  1  "  said  Scadder. 

"  Yes." 

He  turned  towards  it,  and  reflected  for  a  short  time,  as  if, 
having  been  put  upon  his  mettle,  he  was  resolved  to  be  par- 
ticular to  the  very  minutest  hair's  breadth  of  a  shade.  At 
length,  after  wheeling  his  toothpick  slowly  round  and  round 
in  the  air,  as  if  it  were  a  carrier  pigeon  just  thrown  up,  he  sud- 
denly made  a  dart  at  the  drawing,  and  pierced  the  very  centre 
of  the  main  wharf,  through  and  through. 

"  There !  "  he  said,  leaving  his  knife  quivering  in  the  wall  ; 
"  that's  where  it  is  !  " 

Martin  glanced  with  sparkling  eyes  upon  his  Co.,  and  his 
Co.  saw  that  the  thing  was  done. 

The  bargain  was  not  concluded  as  easily  as  might  have 
been  expected  though,  for  Scadder  was  caustic  and  ill- 
humored,  and  cast  much  unnecessary,  opposition  in  the  way  ; 
at  one  time  requesting  them  to  think  of  it,  and  call  again  in  a 
week  or  a  fortnight  ;  at  another  predicting  that  they  wouldn't 
like  it ;  at  another  offering  to  retract  and  let  them  off,  and  mut- 
tering strong  imprecations  u]jon  the  folly  of  the  General.  But 
the  whole  of  the  astoundingly  small  sum-total  of  purchase- 
money — it  was  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  or  some- 
thing more  than  thirty  pounds  of  the  capital  brought  by  Co. 
into  the  architectural  concern — was  ultimately  paid  down  ; 
and  Martin's  head  was  two  inches  nearer  the  roof  of  the  little 
wooden  office,  with  the  consciousness  of  being  a  landed  pro- 
prietor in  the  thriving  city  of  Eden. 


362  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

If  it  shouldn't  happen  to  fit,"  said  Scadder,  as  he  gave 
Martin  the  necessary  credentials  on  receipt  of  his  money, 
"  don't  blame  me." 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied  merrily.  "  We'll  not  blame  you. 
General,  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  sir  ;  and  I  wish  you,"  said  the 
General,  giving  him  his  hand  with  grave  cordiality,  "  joy  of 
your  po-ssession.  You  air  now,  sir,  a  denizen  of  the  most 
powerful  and  highly-civilized  do-minion  that  has  ever  graced 
the  world  ;  a  do-minion,  sir,  where  man  is  bound  to  man  in 
one  vast  bond  of  equal  love  and  truth.  May  you,  sir,  be 
worthy  of  your  a-dopted  country!  " 

Martin  thanked  him,  and  took  leave  of  Mr.  Scadder,  who 
had  i^esumed  his  post  in  the  rocking-chair,  immediately  on  the 
General's  rising  from  it,  and  was  once  more  swinging  away  as 
if  he  had  never  been  disturbed.  Mark  looked  back  several 
times  as  they  went  down  the  road  towards  the  National  Hotel, 
but  now  his  blighted  profile  was  towards  them,  and  nothing 
but  attentive  thoughtfulness  was  written  on  it.  Strangely  dif- 
ferent to  the  other  side  !  He  was  not  a  man  much  given  to 
laughing,  and  never  laughed  outright  ;  but  eveiy  line  in  the 
print  of  the  crow's  foot,  and  every  little  wiry  vein  in  that 
division  of  his  head,  was  wrinkled  up  into  a  grin  !  The  com- 
pound figure  of  Death  and  the  Lady  at  the  top  of  the  old 
ballad  w-as  not  di\ided  with  a  greater  nicety,  and  hadn't 
halves  more  monstrously  unlike  each  other,  than  the  two  pro- 
files of  Zephaniah  Scadder. 

The  General  posted  along  at  a  great  rate,  for  the  clock 
was  on  the  stroke  of  twelve ;  and  at  that  hour  precisely,  the 
Great  Meeting  of  the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  was  to  be 
holden  in  the  public  room  of  the  National  Hotel.  Being  very 
curious  to  witness  the  demonstration,  and  know  what  it  was 
all  about,  Martin  kept  close  to  the  General  ;  and,  keeping 
closer  than  ever  when  they  entered  the  Hall,  got  by  that 
means  upon  a  little  platform  of  tables  at  the  upper  end, 
where  an  arm-chair  was  set  for  the  General,  and  Mr.  La 
Fayette  Kettle,  as  secretary,  was  making  a  great  display  of 
some  foolscap  documents.     Screamers,  no  doubt. 

"  Well,  sir !  "  he  said,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Martin, 
"  here  is  a  spectacle  calc'lated  to  make  the  British  Lion  put 
his  tail  between  his  legs,  and  howl  with  anguish,  I  expect  !  " 

Martin  certainly  thought  it  possible  that  the  British  Lion 
might  have  been  rather  out  of  his  element  in  that  Ark  ;  but 


1 


MAR  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT.  363 

he  kept  the  idea  to  himself.  The  General  was  then  voted  to 
the  chair,  on  the  motion  of  a  pallid  lad  of  the  Jefferson  Brick 
school,  who  forthwith  set  in  for  a  high  spic-ed  speech,  with  a 
good  deal  about  hearths  and  homes  in  it,  and  unriveting  the 
chains  of  Tyranny. 

Oh  but  it  was  a  clincher  for  the  British  Lion,  it  was  !  The 
indignation  of  the  glowing  young  Columbian  knew  no  bounds. 
If  lie  could  only  have  been  one  of  his  own  forefathers,  he 
said,  wouldn't  he  have  peppered  that  same  Lion,  and  been 
to  him  as  another  Brute  hamer  v/ith  a  wire  whip,  teaching 
him  lessons  not  easily  forgotten.  '*  Lion  !  (cried  that  young 
Columbian)  where  is  he  ?  Who  is  he  ?  What  is  he  ?  Show 
him  to  me.  Let^ne  have  him  here.  Here  !  "  said  the  young 
Columbian,  in  a  wrestling  attitude,  "  upon  this  sacred  altar. 
Here !  "  cried  the  young  Columbian,  idealizing  the  dining- 
table,  "  upon  ancestral  ashes,  cemented  with  the  glorious 
blood  poured  out  like  water  on  our  native  plains  of  Chicka- 
biddy Lick  !  Bring  forth  that  Lion  !  "  said  the  young  Colum- 
bian. "Alone,  i  dare  him  !  I  taunt  that  Lion.  I  tell  that 
Lion,  that  Freedom's  hand  once  twisted  in  his  mane,  he  rolls 
a  corse  before  me,  and  the  Eagles  of  the  Great  Republic  laugh 
ha,  ha  !  " 

When  it  was  found  that  the  Lion  didn't  come,  but  kept 
out  of  the  way  ;  that  tiie  young  Columbian  stood  there,  with 
folded  arms,  alone  in  his  glory  ;  and  consequently  that  the 
Eagles  were  no  doubt  laughing  wildly  on  the  mountain  tops  ; 
such  cheers  arose  as  might  ha\e  shaken  the  hands  upon  the 
Horse-Guards'  clock,  and  changed  the  very  mean  time  of  the 
day  in  England's  capital. 

"  Who  is  this  ? "  Martin  telegraphed  to  La  Fayette. 

The  Secretary  wrote  something,  very  gravely,  on  a  piece 
of  paper,  twisted  it  up,  and  had  it  passed  to  him  from  hand 
to  hand.  It  was  an  improvement  on  the  old  sentiment:  "  Per- 
haps as  remarkable  a  man  as  any  in  our  countr)-." 

This  young  Col'imbian  was  succeeded  by  another,  to  the 
full  as  eloquent  as  he,  who  drew  down  storms  of  cheers.  But 
both  remarkable  youths,  in  their  great  excitement  (for  vour 
true  poetry  can  never  stoop  to  details),  forgot  to  say  v/ith 
whom  or  what  the  Watertoasters  sympathized,  and  likewise 
why  or  wherefore  they  were  sympathetic.  Thus,  Martin  re- 
mained for  a  long  time  as  completely  in  the  dark  as  ever  ; 
until  at  length  a  ray  of  light  broke  in  upon  him  through  the 
medium  of  the  secretary,  who,  by  reading  the  minutes  of  their 


3<^4 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


past  proceedings,  made  the  matter  somewhat  clearer.  He 
then  learned  that  the  Watertoast  Association  sympathized  with 
a  certain  Public  Man  in  Ireland,  who  held  a  contest  upon  cer- 
tain points  with  England  ;  and  that  they  did  so  because  they 
didn't  love  England  at  all— not  by  any  means  because  they 
loved  Ireland  much  ;  being  indeed  horribly  jealous  and  dis- 
trustful of  its  people  always,  and  only  tolerating  them  because 
of  their  working  hard,  which  made  them  very  useful  ;  labor 
being  held  in  greater  indignity  in  the  simple  republic  than  in 
any  other  country  upon  earth.  This  rendered  Martin  curi- 
ous to  see  what  grounds  of  sjmpathy  the  Watertoast  Associa- 
tion put  forth ;  nor  was  he  long  in  suspense,  for  the  General 
rose  to  read  a  letter  to  the  Public  Man,  which  with  his  own 
hands  he  had  written. 

"Thus,"  said  the   General,  "thus,  my  friends  and  fellow- 
citizens,  it  runs : 


"  '  Sir, 

"  '  I  address  you  on  behalf  of  the  Watertoast  Association 
of  United  Sympathizers.  It  is  founded,  sir,  in  the  great  re- 
public of  America  !  and  now  holds  its  breath,  and  swells  the 
blue  veins  in  its  forehead  nigh  to  bursting,  as  it  watches,  sir, 
with  feverish  intensity  and  sympathetic  ardor,  your  noble  efforts 
in  the  cause  of  freedom.'  " 

At  the  name  of  Freedom,  and  at  every  repetition  of  that 
name,  all  the  Sympathizers  roared  aloud  ;  cheering  with  nine 
times  nine,  and  nine  times  over. 

"  '  In  Freedom's  name,  sir — holy  Freedom — I  address  you. 
In  Freedom's  name,  I  send  herewith  a  contribution  to  the  funds 
of  your  society.  In  Freedom's  name,  sir,  1  advert  with  indig- 
nation and  disgust  to  that  accursed  animal,  with  gore-stained 
wliiskers,  whose  rampant  cruelty  and  her)-  lust  have  e\  er  been 
a  scourge,  a  torment  to  the  world.  The  naked  visitors  to 
Crusoe's  Island,  sir  ;  the  flying  wi\es  of  Peter  Wilkins  ;  the 
fruit-smeared  children  of  the  tan^rled  bush  ;  nav,  even  the  men 
of  large  stature,  anciently  bred  in  the  mining  districts  of  Corn- 
wall, alike  bear  witness  to  its  sava^re  nature.  Where,  sir.  are 
the  Cormorans,  the  Blunderbores,  the  Great  Feefofums,  named 
in  Historv  ?     All.  all,  exterminated  by  its  destroying  hand. 

'"  I  allude,  sir,  to  the  British  Lion. 

"  '  Devoted,  mind  and  body,  heart  and  soul,  to  Freedom, 
sir — to  Freedom,  blessed  solace  to  the  snail  upon  the  cellnr- 
door,  the  oyster  in  his  pearly  bed,  the  still  mite   in  his   home 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWrT.  365 

of  cheese,  the  very  winkle  of  your  country  in  his  shelly  lair — 
in  her  unsullied  name,  we  offer  you  our  sympathy.  Oh,  sir, 
in  this  our  cherished  and  our  hapj^y  land,  her  fires  burn  bright 
and  clear  and  smokeless  :  once  lighted  up  in  yours,  the  lion 
shall  be  roasted  whole. 

"  '  I  am,  sir,  in  Freedom's  name, 

"  '  Your  affectionate  friend  and  faithful  Sympathizer, 

"  Cyrus  Choke,  General,  U.S.M.'  " 

It  happened  that  just  as  the  General  began  to  read  this 
letter,  the  railroad  train  arrived,  bringing  a  new  mail  from 
England  ;  and  a  packet  had  been  handed  in  to  the  Secretary, 
which  during  its  perusal  and  the  frequent  cheerings  in  homage 
to  freedom,  he  had  opened.  Now,  its  contents  disturbed  him 
very  much,  and  the  moment  the  General  sat  down,  he  hurried 
to  his  side,  and  placed  in  his  hand  a  letter  and  several  printed 
extracts  from  Phiglish  newspapers  ;  to  which,  in  a  state  of  in- 
finite excitement,  he  called  his  immediate  attention. 

The  General,  being  greatly  heated  by  his  own  composition, 
was  in  a  fit  state  to  receive  anv  inflammable  inlluence  ;  but  he 
had  no  sooner  possessed  himself  of  the  contents  of  these  docu- 
ments, than  a  change  came  over  his  face,  involving  such  a  huge 
amount  of  choler  and  passion,  that  the  noisy  concourse  were 
silent  in  a  moment,  in  very  wonder  at  the  sight  of  him, 

"  My  friends!  "  cried  the  General  rising  ;  "  my  friends  and 
fellow-citizens,  we  have  been  mistaken  in  this  man." 

"  In  what  man  ?  "  was  the  cry. 

"  In  this,"  panted  the  General,  holding  uji  the  letter  he 
had  read  aloud  a  few  minutes  before.  ''  I  find  that  he  lias 
been,  and  is,  the  advocate — consistent  in  it  always  too— of 
Nigger  emancipation  !  " 

If  anything  beneath  the  sky  be  real,  those  sons  of  Free- 
dom would  have  pistolled,  stabbed — in  some  way  slain — that 
man  by  coward  hands  and  murderous  violence,  if  he  had  stood 
among  them  at  that  time.  The  most  confiding  of  their  own 
countrymen,  would  not  have  wagered  then,  no,  nor  would 
they  ever  peril,  one  dung-hill  straw,  upon  the  life  of  any  man 
in  such  a  strait.  They  tore  the  letter,  cast  the  fragments  in 
the  air,  trod  down  the  pieces  as  they  fell,  and  yelled,  and 
groaned,  and  hissed,  till  they  could  cry  no  longer. 

"  I  shall  move,"  said  the  General,  when  he  could  make 
himself  heard,  "  that  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United 
Sympathizers  be  immediately  dissolved  !  " 


366  MAK  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

Down  with  it !  Away  with  it  !  Don't  hear  of  it  !  Burn 
its  records  !  Pull  the  room  down  !  Blot  it  out  of  human 
memory ! 

"But,  my  fellow-countrymen!"  said  the  General,  "the 
contributions.  We  have  funds.  What  is  to  be  done  with  the 
funds  ? " 

It  was  hastily  resolved  that  a  piece  of  plate  should  be  pre- 
sented to  a  certain  constitutional  Judge,  who  had  laid  down 
.from  the  Bench  the  noble  principle,  that  it  was  lawful  for  any 
white  mob  to  murder  any  black  man  ;  and  that  another  piece 
of  plate,  of  similar  value,  should  be  presented  to  a  certain 
Patriot,  who  had  declared  from  his  high  place  in  the  Legisla- 
ture, that  he  and  his  friends  would  hang,  without  trial,  any 
Abolitionist  wdio  might  pay  them  a  visit.  For  the  surplus,  it 
was  agreed  that  it  should  be  devoted  to  aiding  the  enforce- 
ment of  those  free  and  equal  laws,  which  render  it  incalculably 
more  criminal  and  dangerous  to  teach  a  negro  to  read  and 
write,  than  to  roast  him  alive  in  a  public  city.  These  points 
adjusted,  the  meeting  broke  up  in  great  disorder,  and  there 
was  an  end  of  the  Watertoast  Sj'mpathy. 

As  Martin  ascended  to  his  bedroom,  his  eye  was  attracted 
by  the  Republican  banner,  which  had  been  hoisted  from  the 
house-top  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  and  Avas  fluttering  before 
a  window  which  he  passed. 

"  Tut  !  "  said  Martin.  "  You're  a  gay  flag  in  the  distance. 
But  let  a  man  be  near  enough  to  get  the  light  upon  the  other 
side,  and  see  through  you,  and  you  are  but  sorry  fustian  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


FROM    WHICH    IT  WILL  BE    SEEN  THAT    MARTIN    BECAME  A    LION 
ON  HIS  OWN  ACCOUNT.     TOGETHER  WITH  THE  REASON  WHY. 

As  soon  as  it  was  generally  known  in  the  National  Hotel, 
that  the  young  Englishman,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  had  purchased  a 
"  lo-cation  "  in  the  Valley  of  Eden,  and  intended  to  betake 
himself  to  that  earthly  Paradise  by  the  next  steamboat,  he 
became  a  popular  character.  Why  this  should  be,  or  how 
it   had    come    to   pass,    Martin   no    more    knew    than    Mrs. 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 


3^7 


Gamp,  of  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Holborn,  did  ;  but  that  he 
was  for  the  time  being,  the  lion,  by  popular  election,  of  the 
Watertoast  community,  and  that  his  society  was  in  rather  in- 
convenient request,  there  could  be  no  kind  of  doubt. 

The  first  notification  he  received  of  this  change  in  his 
position,  was  the  following  epistle,  written  in  a  thin  running 
hand, — with  here  and  there  a  fat  letter  or  two,  to  make  the 
general  effect  more  striking, — on  a  sheet  of  paper,  ruled  with 
blue  lines. 

"  National  Hotel,  Afonday  Aforning. 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"When  I  had  the  privilege -of  being  your  fellow- 
traveller  in  the  cars,  the  day  before  )-esterday,  you  oifered 
some  remarks  upffn  the  subject  of  the  Tower  of  London,  which 
(in  common  with  my  fellow-citizens  generally)  I  could  wish  to 
hear  repeated  to  a  public  audience. 

"  As  Secretary  to  the  Young  Men's  Watertoast  Associa- 
tion of  this  town,  1  am  requested  to  inform  you  that  the  So- 
ciety will  be  proud  to  hear  you  deliver  a  lecture  upon  the 
Tower  of  London,  at  their  Hall  to-morrow  evening,  at  seven 
o'clock  ;  and  as  a  large  issue  of  quarter-dollar  tickets  may  be 
expected,  your  answer  and  consent  by  bearer  will  be  consid- 
ered obliging. 

"  Dear  Sir,  yours  truly,  ' 

"  La  Fayette  Kettle. 

"  The  Honorable  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  P.  S. — The  Society  would  not  be  particular  in  limiting 
you  to  the  Tower  of  London.  Permit  me  to  suggest  that  any 
remarks  upon  the  Elements  of  Geology,  or  (if  more  conveni- 
ent) upon  the  Writings  of  your  talented  and  w^itty  country- 
man, the  honorable  Mr.  Miller,  would  be  well  received." 

Very  much  aghast  at  this  invitation,  Martin  wrote  back, 
civilly,  declining  it  ;  and  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  he  re- 
ceived another  letter. 

"  (Private). 

'■'■  N'o.  47,  Bunker  Hill  Street,  Alondav  Morning. 
"  Sir, 

"  I  was  raised  in  those  interminable  solitudes  where 
our  mighty  Mississippi  (or  l''ather  of  Waters)  rolls  liis  turbid 
flood. 

"  I  am  young,  and  ardent.     For  there  is  a  poetrj^  in  wild- 


368  MARTIX  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ness,  and  every  alligator  basking  in  the  slime  is  in  himself  an 
Epic,  self-contained.  I  aspirate  for  fame.  It  is  my  yearning 
and  my  thirst. 

'"  Are  you,  sir,  aware  of  any  member  of  Congress  in  Eng- 
land, who  would  undertake  to  pay  my  expenses  to  that  coun- 
try, and  for  six  months  after  my  arrival  .-' 

"  There  is  something  within  me  which  gives  me  the  assur- 
ance that  this  enlightened  patronage  would  not  be  thrown 
away.  In  literature  or  art ;  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  or  the  stage  ; 
in  one  or  other,  if  not  all,  I  feel  that  I  am  certain  to  succeed. 

"  If  too  much  engaged  to  write  to  any  such  yourself,  please 
let  me  have  a  list  of  three  or  four  of  those  most  likely  to  re- 
spond, and  I  will  address  them  through  the  Post  Office.  May 
I  also  ask  you  to  favor  me  with  any  critical  obsen^ations  that 
have  ever  presented  themselves  to  your  reflective  faculties,  on 
'  Cain  :  a  Mystery,'  by  the  Right  Honorable  Lord  Byron  .'' 

"  I  am,  Sir, 
"  Yours  (forgive  me  if  I  add,  soaringly), 

"  Putnam  Smif. 

"  P.  S. — Address  your  answer  to  America  Junior,  Messrs. 
Hancock  &  Floby,  Dry  Goods  Store,  as  above." 

Both  of  which  letters,  together  with  Martin's  reply  to  each, 
were,  according  to  a  laudable  custom,  much  tending  to  the 
promotion  of  gentlemanly  feeling  and  social  confidence,  pub- 
lished in  the  next  number  of  the  Watertoast  Gazette. 

He  had  scarcely  got  through  this  correspondence,  when 
Captain  Kedgick,  the  landlord,  kindly  came  up  stairs  to  see 
how  he  was  getting  on.  The  Captain  sat  down  upon  the  bed 
before  he  spoke  ;  and  finding  it  rather  hard,  moved  to  the 
pillow. 

"  Well,  sir !  "  said  the  Captain,  putting  his  hat  a  little 
more  on  one  side,  for  it  was  rather  tight  in  the  crown,  "  You're 
quite  a  public  man  I  calc'late." 

"  So  it  seems,"  retorted  Martin,  who  was  very  tired. 

"Our  citizens,  sir,"  pursued  the  Captain,  "intend  to  pay 
their  respects  to  you.  You  will  have  to  hold  a  sort  of  le — vee, 
sir,  while  j^ou're  here." 

"  Powers  above  !  "  cried  Martin,  "  I  couldn't  do  that  my 
good  fellow  !  " 

"  I  reckon  you  must  then,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Must  is  not  a  pleasant  word.  Captain,"  urged  Martin. 

"  Well !     I  didn't  fix  the  mother  language,  and  I  can't  un- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  369 

fix  it,"  said  the  Captain,  coolly, "  else  I'd  make  it  pleasant. 
You  must  re-ceive.     Tiiat's  all.'' 

"  Biit  why  should  I  receive  people  who  care  as  much  for 
me  as  1  care  for  them .''  ''  asked  Martin. 

"  Well  !  because  I  have  had  a  muniment  put  up  in  the 
bar,"  returned  the  Captain. 

"  A  what  ?  "  cried  Martin. 

"A  muniment,"  rejoined  the  Captain. 

Martin  looked  despairingly  at  Mark,  who  informed  him 
that  the  Captain  meant  a  written  notice  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
would  receive  the  Watertoasters  that  day,  at  and  after  two 
o'clock,  which  was  in  effect,  then  hanging  in  the  bar,  as  Mark 
from  ocular  inspection  of  the  same  could  testify. 

"You  wouldn't  be  unpop'lar,  /know,"  said  the  Captain, 
paring  his  nails.  "  Our  citizens  an't  long  of  riling  up,  I  tell 
you  \  and  our  Gazette  could  flay  you  like  a  wild  cat." 

Martin  was  going  to  be  very  wroth,  but  he  thought  better 
of  it,  and  said  : 

"  In  Heaven's  name  let  them  come,  then." 

"Oh,  thefW  come,"  returned  the  Captain.  "I  have  seen 
the  big  room  fixed  a'pm-pose,  with  my  eyes." 

"But  will  you,"  said  Martin,  seeing  that  the  Captain  was 
about  to  go — "  will  you  at  least  tell  me  this  ?  What  do  they 
want  to  see  me  for?  what  have  I  done?  and  how  do  tiu/ 
happen  to  have  such  a  sudden  interest  in  me  ?  " 

Captain  Kedgick  put  a  thumb  and  three  fingers  to  each 
side  of  the  brim  of  his  hat  ;  lifted  it  a  little  way  off  his  head  ; 
put  it  on  again  carefully  ;  passed  one  hand  all  down  his  face, 
beginning  at  the  forehead  and  ending  at  the  chin  ;  looked  at 
Martin  ;  then  at  Mark  ;  then  at  Martin  again  ;  winked  ;  and 
walked  out. 

"  Upon  my  life,  now  !  "  said  Martin,  bringing  his  hand 
heavily  upon  the  table  :  "  such  a  perfectly  unaccountable  fel- 
low as  that,  I  never  saw.     Mark,  what  do  you  say  to  this  ? " 

"Why,  sir,"  returned  his  partner,  "  my  opinion  is  that  we 
must  have  got  to  the  most  remarkable  man  in  the  countr)-  at 
last.     So  I  hope  there's  an  end  to  the  breed,  sir." 

Although  this  made  Martin  laugh,  it  couldn't  keep  off  two 
o'clock.  Punctuallv,  as  the  hour  struck,  Cajitain  Kedgick 
returned  to  hand  him  to  the  room  of  state  ;  and  he  had  no 
sooner  got  him  safe  there,  than  he  bawled  down  the  staircase 
to  his  fellow-citizens  below,  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  "  re- 
ceiving,"  24 


37° 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Up  they  came  with  a  rush.  Up  they  came  until  the  room 
■svas  full,  and,  through  the  open  door,  a  dismal  perspective  of 
more  to  come,  was  shown  upon  the  stairs.  One  after  another, 
one  after  another,  dozen  after  dozen,  score  after  score,  more, 
more,  more,  up  they  came,  all  shaking  hands  with  Martin. 
Such  varieties  of  hands,  the  thick,  the  thin,  the  short,  the 
long,  the  fat,  the  lean,  the  coarse  the  fine  ;  such  diit'erences 
of  temperature,  the  hot,  the  cold,  the  diy,  the  moist,  the  flab- 
by ;  such  diversities  of  grasp,  the  tight,  the  loose,  the  short- 
lived, and  the  lingering  !  Still  up,  up,  up,  more,  more,  more, 
and  ever  and  anon  the  Captain's  voice  was  heard  above  the 
crowd  :  "  There's  more  below  !  there's  more  below.  Now, 
gentlemen,  vou  that  have  been  introduced  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 
will  you  clear,  gentlemen  t  Will  you  clear  .'  Will  you  be  so 
good  as  clear,  gentlemen,  and  make  a  little  room  for  more  ? " 

Regardless  of  the  Captain's  cries,  they  didn't  clear  at  all, 
but  stood  there,  bolt  upright  and  staring.  Two  gentlemen 
connected  with  the  Watertoast  Gazette  had  come  express  to 
get  the  matter  for  an  article  on  Martin.  They  had  agreed  to 
divide  the  labor.  One  of  them  took  him  below  the  waist- 
coat ;  one  above.  Each  stood  directly  in  front  of  his  subject 
with  his  head  a  little  on  one  side,  intent  on  his  department. 
If  Martin  put  one  boot  before  the  other,  the  lower  gentleman 
was  down  upon  him  ;  he  rubbed  a  pimple  on  his  nose,  and 
the  upper  gentleman  booked  it.  He  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  and  the  same  gentleman  was  on  one  knee  before  him, 
looking  in  at  his  teeth,  with  the  nice  scrutiny  of  a  dentist. 
Amateurs  in  the  physiognomical  and  phrenological  sciences 
roved  about  him  with  watchful  eyes  and  itching  fingers,  and 
sometimes  one,  more  daring  than  the  rest,  made  a  mad  grasp 
at  the  back  of  his  head,  and  vanished  in  the  crowd.  They 
had  him  in  all  points  of  vjew — in  front,  in  profile,  three-quarter 
face  and  behind.  Those  who  were  not  professional  or  scien- 
tific, audibly  exchanged  opinions  on  his  looks.  New  lights 
shone  in  upon  him,  in  respect  of  his  nose.  Contradictory 
rumors  were  abroad  on  the  subject  of  his  hair.  And  still  the 
Captain's  voice  was  heard — so  stifled  by  the  concourse,  that 
he  seemed  to  speak  from  underneath  a  feather-bed,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Gentlemen,  you  that  have  been  introduced  to  Mr. 
chuzzlewit,  will  you  clear  ?  " 

Even  when  they  began  to  clear,  it  was  no  better  ;  for  then 
a  stream  of  gentlemen,  every  one  witli  a  lady  on  each  arm 
(exactly  like  the  chorus  to  the  National  Anthem  when  Royalty 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


571 


goes  in  state  to  the  play),  came  gliding  in  j  every  new  group 
fresher  than  the  last,  and  bent  on  staying  to  the  latest  mo- 
ment. If  they  spoke  to  him,  which  was  not  often,  they 
invariably  asked  the  same  questions,  in  the  same  tone,  with 
no  more  remorse,  or  delicacy,  or  consideration,  than  if  he  had 
been  a  figure  of  stone,  purchased,  and  paid  for,  and  set  up 
there,  for  their  delight.  Even  when,  in  the  slow  course  of 
time,  these  died  off,  it  was  as  bad  as  ever,  if  not  worse  ;  for  then 
the  boys  grew  bold,  and  came  in  as  a  class  of  themselves,  and 
did  everything  that  the  grown-up  people  had  done.  Uncouth 
stragglers  too,  appeared  ;  men  of  a  ghostly  kind,  who  beiiv^ 
in,  didn't  know  how  to  get  out  again  ;  insomuch  that  one 
silent  gentleman  with  glazed  and  fishy  eyes,  and  only  one 
button  on  his  waistcoat  (which  was  a  very  large  metal  one, 
and  shone  prodigiously),  got  behind  the  door,  and  stood  there, 
like  a  clock,  long  after  everybody  else  was  gone. 

Martin  felt,  from  pure  fatigue,  and  heat,  and  worry,  as  if 
he  could  have  fallen  on  the  ground  and  willingly  remained 
there,  if  they  would  but  have  had  the  mercy  to  leave  hiin 
alone.  But  as  letters  and  messages  threatening  his  public 
denouncement  if  he  didn't  see  the  senders,  poured  in  like 
hail ;  and  as  more  visitors  came  while  he  took  his  coffee  by 
himself  ;  and  as  Mark,  with  all  his  vigilance,  was  unable  to 
keep  them  from  the  door,  he  resolved  to  go  to  bed.  Not 
that  he  felt  at  all  sure  of  bed  being  any  protection,  but  that 
he  might  not  leave  a  forlorn  hope  untried. 

He  had  communicated  this  design  to  Mark,  and  was  on 
the  eve  of  escaping,  when  the  door  was  thrown  open  in  a  great 
hurr}%  and  an  elderly  gentleman  entered,  bringing  with  him  a 
lady  who  certainly  could  not  be  considered  young — that  was 
matter  of  fact ;  and  probably  could  not  be  considered  hand- 
some— but  that  was  matter  of  opinion.  vShe  was  very  straight, 
very  tall,  and  not  at  all  flexible  in  face  or  figure.  On  her  head 
she  wore  a  great  straw  bonnet,  with  trimmings  of  the  same, 
in  which  she  looked  as  if  she  had  been  thatched  by  an  unskil- 
ful laborer  ;  and  in  her  hand  she  held  a  most  enormous  fan. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  believe  ?  "  said  the  gentleman. 

"That  is  my  name." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  pressed  for  time.' 

"  Thank  God  !  "  thought  Martin. 

"I  go  back  Toe  my  home,  sir,"  pursued  the  gentleman, 
"by  the  return  train,  which  starts  immediate.  Start  is  not  :* 
word  you  use  in  your  country,  sir."' 


372  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Oh  yes,  it  is,"  said  Martin. 

"  You  air  mistaken,  sir,"  returned  the  gentleman,  with 
great  decision :  "  but  we  will  not  pursue  the  subject,  lest  it 
should  awake  your  prejii-dice.     Sir,  Mrs.  Hominy." 

Martin  bowed. 

"  Mrs.  Hominy,  sir,  is  the  lady  of  Major  Hominy,  one  of 
our  chicest  spirits ;  and  belongs  Toe  one  of  our  most  aristo- 
cratic families.  You  air,  p'raps,  acquainted,  sir,  with  Mrs. 
Hominy's  writings  ?  " 

Martin  couldn't  say  he  was. 

■■'  You  have  much  Toe  learn,  and  Toe  enjoy,  sir,"  said  the 
gentleman.  "  Mrs.  Hominy  is  going  Toe  stay  until  the  end 
of  the  Fall,  sir,  with  her  married  daughter  at  the  settlement 
of  New  Thermopylce,  three  days  this  side  of  Eden.  Any  at- 
tention, sir,  that  you  can  show  Toe  Mrs.  Hominy  upon  the 
journey,  will  be  very  grateful  Toe  the  Major  and  our  fellow- 
citizens.  Mrs.  Homin}^  I  wish  you  good-night,  ma'am,  and  a 
pleasant  pro-gress  on  your  rout !  " 

Martin  could  scarcely  believe  it ;  but  he  had  gone,  and 
Mrs.  Hominy  was  drinking  the  milk. 

"A'most  used-up  I  am,  I  do  declare!"  she  observed. 
"The  jolting  in  the  cars  is  pretty  nigh  as  bad  as  if  the  rail 
was  full  of  snags  and  sawyers." 

"  Snags  and  sawyers,  ma'aiu  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"Well,  then,  I  do  suppose  you'll  hardly  realize  my  mean- 
ing, sir,"  said  Mrs.  Hominy.     "  My  !    Only  think  !    Do  tell !  " 

It  did  not  appear  that  these  expressions,  although  they 
seemed  to  conclude  with  an  urgent  entreaty,  stood  in  need  of 
any  answer  ;  for  Mrs.  Hominy,  untying  her  bonnet-strings, 
observed  that  she  would  withdraw  to  lay  that  article  of  dress 
aside,  and  would  return  immediately. 

"  Mark  !  "  said  Martin.  "  Touch  me,  will  you.  Am  I 
awake  ?  " 

"  Hominy  is,  sir,"  returned  his  partner  ;  "  broad  awake  ! 
Just  the  sort  of  woman,  sir,  as  would  be  discovered  with  her 
eyes  wide  open,  and  her  mind  a  working  for  her  country's 
good,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night." 

They  had  no  opportunity  of  saying  more,  for  Mrs.  Hominy 
stalked  in  again ;  very  erect,  in  proof  of  her  aristocratic 
blood  ;  and  holding  in  her  clasped  hands  a  red  cotton  pocket- 
handkerchief,  perhaps  a  parting  gift  from  that  choice  spirit, 
the  Major.  She  had  laid  aside  her  bonnet,  and  now  ap- 
peared in  a   highly   aristocratic   and   classical  cap,  meeting 


MARTIX  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


;73 


beneath  her  chin  ;  a  style  of  head-dress  so  admirably  adapted 
to  her  countenance,  that  if  the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi  had  appeared 
in  the  lappets  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  a  more  complete  effect  could 
not  ha\  e  been  produced. 

Martin  handed  her  to  a  chair.  Her  first  words  arrested 
him  before  he  could  get  back  to  his  own  seat. 

"Pray,  sir!"  said  Mrs.  Hominy,  "where  do  you  hail 
from.'" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  dull  of  comprehension,"  answered 
Martin,  "  being  extremely  tired  ;  but,  upon  my  word,  I  don't 
understand  you." 

Mrs.  Hominy  shook  herhead  \\ath  a  melancholy  smile  that 
said,  not  inexpressively,  "They  corrupt  even  the  language  in 
that  old  country  !  "  and  added  then,  as  coming  down  a  step 
or  two  to  meet  his  low  capacity,   "  Where  was  you  rose  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Martin,  "  I  was  born  in  Kent." 

"  And  how  do  you  like  our  country,  sir !  "  asked  Mrs. 
Hominy. 

"Very  much  indeed,"  said  Martin,  half  asleep.  "  At  least 
— that  is — pretty  well,  ma'am." 

"  Most  strangers — and  partick'larly  Britishers — are  much 
surprised  by  what  they  see  in  the  U-nited  States,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Hominy. 

"  They  have  excellent  reason  to  be  so,  ma'am,"  said 
Martin.     "  I  never  was  so  much  suq^rised  in  all  my  life." 

"Our  institutions  make  our  people  smart  much,  sir,"  Mrs. 
Hominy  remarked. 

"  The  most  short-sighted  man  could  see  that  at  a  glance, 
with  his  naked  eye,"  said  Martin, 

Mrs.  Hominy  was  a  philosopher  and  an  authoress,  and 
consequently  had  a  pretty  strong  digestion  ;  but  this  coarse, 
this  indecorous  phrase,  was  almost  too  much  for  her.  For  a 
gentleman  sitting  alone  with  a  lady  to — although  the  door  was 
open — to  talk  about  a  naked  eye  ! 

A  long  interval  elapsed  before  even  she,  woman  of  mascu- 
line and  towering  intellect  though  she  was,  could  call  up  forti- 
tude enough  to  resume  the  conversation.  But  Mrs.  Hominy 
was  a  traveller.  Mrs.  Hominy  was  a  writer  of  reviews  and 
analytical  disquisitions.  Mrs.  Hominy  had  had  her  letters 
from  abroad,  beginning  "My  ever  dearest  blank,"  and  signed 
"  The  Mother  of  the  Modern  Gracchi  "  (meaning  the  married 
Miss  Hominy),  regularly  printed  in  a  public  journal,  with  all 
the  indignation  in  capitals,  and  all  the  sarcasm  in  italics     Mrs. 


374  ■     ^'^lARTIX  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

Homiry  had  looked  on  foreign  countries  with  the  eye  of  a 
perfect  republican  hot  from  the  model  oven  ;  and  Mrs.  Hom- 
iny could  talk  (or  write)  about  them  by  the  hour  together. 
So  Mrs.  Hominy  at  last  came  down  on  Martin  heavily,  and  as 
he  was  fast  asleep  she  had  it  all  her  own  way,  and  bruised  him 
to  her  heart's  content. 

It  is  no  great  matter  what  Mrs.  Hominy  said,  save  she  had 
learnt  it  from  the  cant  of  a  class,  and  a  large  class,  of  her 
fellow-countrymen,  who,  in  their  every  word,  avow  themselves 
to  be  as  senseless  to  the  high  principles  on  which  America 
sprang,  a  nation,  into  life,  as  any  Orson  in  her  legislative  halls. 
Who  are  no  more  capable  of  feeling,  or  caring  if  they  did  feel, 
that  by  reducing  their  own  country  to  the  ebb  of  honest  men's 
contempt,  they  put  in  hazard  the  rights  of  nations  yet  unborn, 
and  very  progress  of  human  race,  than  are  the  swine  that 
wallow  in  their  streets.  Who  think  that  crying  out  to  other 
nations,  old  in  their  iniquity,  "  We  are  no  worse  than  you  !  " 
(No  worse !)  is  high  defence  and  'vantage-ground  enough 
for  that  Republic,  but  yesterday  let  loose  upon  her  noble 
course,  and  but  to-day  so  maimed  and  lame,  so  full  of  sores 
and  ulcers,  foul  to  the  eye  and  almost  hopeless  to  the  sense, 
that  her  best  friends  turn  from  the  loathsome  creature  with 
disgust.  Who,  having  by  their  ancestors  declared  and  won 
their  Independence,  because  they  would  not  bend  the  knee  to 
certain  Public  vices  and  corruptions,  and  would  not  abrogate 
the  truth,  run  riot  in  the  Bad,  and  turn  their  backs  upon  the 
Good  ;  and  lying  down  contented  with  the  wretched  boast  that 
other  Temples  also  are  of  glass,  and  stones  which  batter  theirs 
may  be  flung  back  ;  show  themselves  in  that  alone,  as  im- 
measurably behind  the  import  of  the  trust  they  hold,  and  as 
unworthy  to  possess  it,  as  if  the  sordid  hucksterings  of  all 
their  little  governments — each  one  a  kingdom  in  its  small 
depravity — were  brought  into  a  heap  for  evidence  against 
them. 

Martin  by  degrees  became  so  far  awake,  that  he  had  a 
sense  of  a  terrible  oppression  on  his  mind  ;  an  imperfect  dream 
that  he  had  murdered  a  particular  friend,  and  couldn't  get  rid 
of  the  body.  When  his  eyes  opened  it  was  staring  him  full  in 
the  face.  There  was  the  horrible  Hominy  talking  deep  truths 
in  a  melodious  snuffle,  and  pouring  forth  her  mental  endow- 
ments to  such  an  extent  that  the  Major's  bitterest  enemy, 
hearing  her,  would  have  forgiven  him  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart.     Martin  .night  have  done  something  desperate  if  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  -y^ 

gong  had  not  sounded  for  supper  ;  but  sound  it  did  most  op- 
portunely ;  and  having  stationed  Mrs.  Hominy  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  table,  he  took  refuge  at  the  lower  end  himself ; 
whence,  after  a  hasty  meal,  he  stole  away,  while  the  lady  was 
yet  busied  with  dried  beef  and  a  saucer-full  of  pickled  fixings. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  Mrs. 
Hominy's  freshness  next  clay,  or  of  the  avidity  with  which 
she  went  headlong  into  moral  philosophy  at  breakfast.  Some 
little  additional  degree  of  asperity,  perhaps,  was  visible  in  her 
features,  but  not  more  than  the  pickles  would  have  naturally 
produced.  All  that  day  she  clung  to  Martin;  She  sat  beside 
him  while  he  received  his  friends  (for  there  was  another  Re- 
ception, yet  more  numerous  than  the  former)  propounded 
theories,  and  ajiswered  imaginary  objections,  so  that  Martin 
really  began  to  think  he  must  be  dreaming,  and  speaking  for 
two  ;  she  quoted  interminable  passages  from  certain  essays  on 
government,  written  by  herself  ;  used  the  Major's  pocket-hand- 
kerchief as  if  the  snuffle  were  a  temporary  malady,  of  which 
she  was  determined  to  rid  herself  by  some  means  or  other  ; 
and  in  short,  was  such  a  remarkable  companion,  that  Martin 
quite  settled  it  between  himself  and  his  conscience,  that  in 
any  new  settlement  it  would  be  absolutely  necessaiy  to  ha\  e 
such  a  person  knocked  on  the  head  for  the  general  peace  of 
society. 

In  the  meantime  Mark  was  busy,  from  early  in  the  morn- 
ing until  late  at  night,  in  getting  on  board  the  steamboat  such 
provisions,  tools,  and  other  necessaries,  as  they  had  been 
forewarned  it  would  be  wise  to  take.  The  purchase  of  these 
things,  and  the  settlement  of  their  bill  at  the  National,  re- 
duced their  finances  to  sc  low  an  ebb,  that  if  the  captain  had 
delayed  his  departure  -"my  longer,  they  would  have  been  in 
almost  as  bad  a  pligh.  as  the  unfortunate  poorer  emigrants, 
who  (seduced  on  board  by  solemn  advertisement)  had  been 
living  on  the  lower  deck  a  whole  week,  and  exhausted  thtir 
miserable  stock  of  provisions  before  the  voyage  commenced. 
There  they  were,  .all  huddled  together,  with  the  engine  and 
fires.  Farmers  who  had  never  seen  a  plough  ;  woodmen  who 
had  never  used  an  axe ;  builders  who  couldn't  make  a  box  : 
cast  out  of  their  own  land,  with  not  a  hnnd  to  aid  them  :  newly 
come  into  an,  unknown  world,  children  in  helplessness,  but 
men  in  wants,  with  younger  children  at  their  backs,  to  li\e  or 
die  as  it  might  happen  ! 

The  morning  came,  and  they  would  start  at  noon.     Noon 


376  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

came,  and  they  would  start  at  night.  But  nothing  is  eternal 
in  this  world,  not  even  the  procrastination  of  an  American 
skipper :  and  at  night  all  was  ready. 

Dispirited  and  weary  to  the  last  degree,  but  a  greater  lion 
than  ever  (he  had  done  nothing  all  the  afternoon  but  answer 
letters  from  strangers  ;  half  of  them  about  nothing,  half  about 
borrowing  money,  and  all  requiring  an  instantaneous  reply), 
Martin  walked  down  the  wharf,  through  a  concourse  of  people 
with  Mrs.  Hominy  upon  his  arm  ;  and  went  on  board.  But 
Mark  was  bent  on  solving  the  riddle  of  this  lionship,  if  he 
could  ;  and  so,  not  without  the  risk  of  being  left  behind  ran 
back  to  the  hotel. 

Captain  Kedgick  was  sitting  in  the  colonnade,  with  a  julep 
on  his  knee,  and  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  He  caught  Mark's 
eye,  and  said  : 

"Why,  what  the  'Tarnal  brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  plainly  what  it  is.  Captain,"  said  Mark,  "  I 
want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  A  man  may  (7J'^  a  question  so  he  may,"  returned  Kedgick, 
strongly  implying  that  another  man  might  not  answer  a  ques- 
tion, so  he  mightn't. 

"  What  have  they  been  making  so  much  of  him  for,  now  ? " 
said  Mark,  slyly.     "  Come  !  " 

"  Our  people  like  ex-citement,"  answered  Kedgick,  sucking 
his  cigar. 

"  But  how  has  he  excited  'em  ? "  asked  Mark. 

The  captain  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  half  inclined  to 
unburden  his  mind  of  a  capital  joke. 

"  You  air  a  going  ?  "   he  said. 

"  Going  !  "  cried  Mark.     "  Ain't  ever}-  moment  precious  ?  " 

"  Our  people  like  ex-citement,"  said  the  captain,  whisper- 
ing. "  He  ain't  like  emigrants  in  gin'ral  ;  and  he  excited  'em 
along  of  this  ; "  he  winked  and  burst  into  a  smothered  laugh  ; 
"  along  of  this.  Scadder  is  a  smart  man,  and — and — nobody 
as  goes  to  Eden  ever  comes  back  a-live  !  '•' 

The  wharf  was  close  at  hand,  and  at  that  instant  Mark 
could  hear  them  shouting  out  his  name  ;  could  even  hear 
Martin  calling  to  him  to  make  haste,  or  they  would  be  sepa- 
rated. It  was  too  late  to  mend  the  matter,  or  put  any  face 
upon  it  but  the  best.  He  gave  the  Captain  a  parting  benedic- 
tion, and  ran  of!  like  a  race-horse. 

"Mark!     Mark  !"  cried  Martin. 

'^  Here  am  I,  sir  ! "  shouted  Mark,  suddenly  replying  from 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  2>n 

the  edge  of  the  quay,  and  leapins;  at  a  bound  on  board. 
"Never  was  half  so  jolly,  sir.  All  right.  Haul  in!  do 
a-head  ! " 

The  sparks  from  the  wood  fire  streamed  upward  from  the 
two  chimneys  as  if  the  vessel  were  a  great  firework  just  lighted  ; 
and  they  roared  away  upon  the  dark  water. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 


MARTIN  AND  HIS^  PARTNER  TAKE  POSSESSION  OF  THEIR  ESTATE. 
THE  JOYFUL  OCCASION  INVOLVES  SOME  FURTHER  ACCOUNT 
OF    EDEN. 

There  happened  to  be  on  board  the  steamboat  several 
gentlemen  passengers,  of  the  same  stamp  as  Martin's  New 
York  friend  Mr.  Eevan  ;  and  in  their  society  he  was  cheerful 
and  hapjjy.  They  released  him  as  well  as  they  could  from 
the  intellectual  entanglements  of  Mrs.  Hominy  ;  and  exhibit- 
ed, in  all  they  said  and  did,  so  much  good  sense  and  high 
feeling,  that  he  could  not  like  them  too  well.  "  If  this  were 
a  republic  of  Intellect  and  Worth,"  he  said,  "  instead  of  vapor- 
ing and  jobbing,  they  would  not  want  the  levers  to  keep  it  in 
motion." 

"  Having  good  tools,  and  using  bad  ones,"  returned  Mr. 
Tapley,  "  would  look  as  if  they  was  rather  a  poor  sort  of  car- 
penters, sir,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

Martin  nodded.  "  As  if  their  work  were  infinitely  above 
their  powers  and  purpose,  Mark  ;  and  they  botched  it  in 
consequence." 

"  The  best  on  it  is,"  said  Mark,  "  that  when  they  do  hap- 
pen to  make  a  decent  stroke,  such  as  a  better  workmen,  with 
no  such  opportunities,  make  every  day  of  their  lives  and  think 
nothing  of,  they  begin  to  sing  out  so  surprising  loud.  Take 
notice  of  my  words,  sir.  If  ever  the  defaulting  part  of  this 
here  country  pays  its  debts — along  of  finding  that  not  paying 
'em  won't  do  in  a  commercial  point  of  \iew.  vou  see,  and  is 
inconvenient  in  its  consequences — they'll  take  such  a  shine 
out  of  it,  and  make  such  bragging  speeches,  that  a  man  might 
suppose  no  borrowed  money  had  ever  been  paid  afore,  since 


378  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  world  was  first  begun.  That's  the  way  they  gammon  each 
other,  sir.  Bless  you,  /  know  'em.  Take  notice  of  my  words, 
now !  " 

"  You  seem  to  be  growing  profoundly  sagacious  !  "  cried 
Martin,  laughing. 

"Whether  that  is,"  thought  Mark,  "because  I'm  a  day's 
journey  nearer  Eden,  and  am  brightening  up,  afore  I  die,  I 
can't  say.  P'rhaps  by  the  time  I  get  there,  I  shall  have  growed 
into  a  prophet." 

He  gave  no  utterance  to  these  sentiments  ;  but  the  exces- 
sive joviality  they  inspired  within  him,  and  the  merriment 
they  brought  upon  his  shining  face,  were  quite  enough  for  Mar- 
tin. Although  he  might  sometimes  profess  to  make  light  of  his 
partner's  inexhaustible  cheerfulness,  and  might  sometimes,  as 
in  the  case  of  Zephaniah  Scadder,  find  him  too  jocose  a  com- 
mentator, he  was  always  sensible  of  the  effect  of  his  example  in 
rousing  him  to  hopefulness  and  courage.  Whether  he  were  in 
the  humor  to  profit  by  it,  mattered  not  a  jot.  It  was  conta- 
gious, and  he  could  not  choose  but  be  affected. 

At  first  they  parted  with  some  of  their  passengers  once  or 
twice  a  day,  and  took  in  others  to  replace  them.  But  by 
degrees,  the  towns  upon  their  routs  became  more  thinly  scat- 
tered ;  and  for  many  hours  together  they  would  see  no  other 
habitations  than  the  huts  of  the  wood-cutters,  where  the  vessel 
stopped  for  fuel.  Sky,  wood,  and  water,  all  the  livelong  day ; 
and  heat  that  blistered  everything  it  touched. 

On  they  toiled  through  great  solitudes,  where  the  trees 
upon  the  banks  grew  thick  and  close  ;  and  floated  in  the 
stream  •  and  held  up  shrivelled  arms  from  out  the  river's 
depths  ;  and  slid  down  from  the  margin  of  the  land,  half 
growing,  half  decaying,  in  the  miry  water.  On  through  the 
wear)'  day  and  melancholy  night  ;  beneath  the  burning  sun, 
and  in  the  mist  and  vapor  of  the  evening  ;  on,  until  return 
appeared  impossible,  and  restoration  to  their  home  a  misera- 
ble dream. 

They  had  now  but  few  people  on  board,  and  these  few 
were  as  flat,  as  dull,  and  stagnant,  as  the  vegetation  that 
oppressed  their  eyes.  No  sound  of  cheerfulness  or  hope  was 
heard  ;  no  pleasant  talk  beguiled  the  tardy  time  ;  no  little 
group  made  common  cause  against  the  dull  depression  of  the 
scene.  But  that,  at  certain  periods,  they  swallowed  food 
together  from  a  common  trough,  it  might  have  been  old 
Charon's  boat,  conveying  melancholy  shades  to  judgment. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


379 


At  length  they  drew  near  New  Thermopyloe  ;  where,  that 
same  evening,  Mrs.  Hominy  would  disembark.  A  gleam  of 
comfort  sunk  into  Martin's  bosom  when  she  told  him  this. 
Mark  needed  none  ;  but  he  was  not  displeased. 

It  was  almost  night  when  they  came  alongside  the  landing- 
place.  A  steep  bank  with  an  hotel,  like  a  barn,  on  the  top  of 
it ;  a  wooden  store  or  two  ;  and  a  few  scattered  sheds. 

"  You  sleep  here  to-night,  and  go  on  in  the  morning,  I 
suppose,  ma'am  t  "  said  Martin. 

"  Where  should  I  go  on  to  ? "  cried  the  mother  of  the 
modern  Gracchi. 

"  To  New  Thermopylae." 

"My!  ain't  I  there?"  said  Mrs.  Hominy. 

Martin  looked  for  it  all  round  the  darkening  panorama  ; 
but  he  couldn't  see  it,  and  was  obliged  to  say  so. 

"  Why  that's  it !  "  cried  Mrs.  Hominy,  pointing  to  the  sheds 
just  mentioned. 

"  That  r'  exclaimed  Martin. 

"  Ah  !  that ;  and  work  it  which  way  you  will,  it  whips 
Eden,"  said  Mrs.  Hominy,  nodding  her  head  with  great 
expression. 

The  married  Miss  Hominy,  who  had  come  on  board  with 
her  husband,  gave  to  this  statement  her  most  unqualified  sup- 
port, as  did  that  gentleman  also.  Martin  gratefully  declined 
their  invitation  to  regale  himself  at  their  house  during  the  half 
hour  of  the  vessel's  stay  ;  and  having  escorted  Mrs.  Hominy 
and  the  red  pocket-handkerchief  (which  was  still  on  active 
service)  safely  across  the  gangway,  returned  in  a  thoughtful 
mood  to  watch  the  emigrants  as  they  removed  their  goods 
ashore. 

Mark,  as  he  stood  beside  him,  glanced  in  his  face  from  time 
to  time,  anxious  to  discover  what  effect  this  dialogue  had  had 
upon  him,  and  not  unwilling  that  his  hopes  should  be  dashed 
before  they  reached  their  destination,  so  that  the  blow  he 
feared,  might  be  broken  in  its  fall.  But  saving  that  he  some- 
times looked  up  quickly  at  the  poor  erections  on  the  hill,  he 
gave  him  no  clue  to  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  until  they 
were  again  upon  their  way. 

"Mark,"  he  said  then,  "are  there  really  none  but  our- 
selves on  board  this  boat  who  are  bound  for  Eden  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  sir.  Most  of  'em,  as  you  know,  have 
stopped  short  ;  and  the  few  that  are  left  are  going  further 
on.     What  matters  that  !     More  room  there  for  us,  siv." 


38o 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


"  Oh  to  be  sure  !  "  said  Martin.  "  But  I  was  thinking  "— 
and  there  he  paused. 

"  Yes,  sir  !  "  observed  Mark. 

"  How  odd  it  was  that  the  people  should  have  arranged  to 
try  their  fortune  at  a  wretched  hole  like  that,  for  instance, 
when  there  is  such  a  nuich  better,  and  such  a  very  different 
kind  of  place,  near  at  hand,  as  one  may  say." 

He  spoke  in  a  tone  so  very  different  from  his  usual  con- 
fidence, and  with  such  an  obvious  dread  of  Mark's  reply,  that 
the  good-natured  fellow  was  full  of  pity. 

"  Why,  you  know,  sir,"  said  Mark,  as  gently  as  he  could 
by  any  means  insinuate  the  observation,  "  we  must  guard 
against  being  too  sanguine.  There's  no  occasion  for  it,  either, 
because  we're  determined  to  make  the  best  of  everything, 
after  we  know  the  worst  of  it.     Ain't  we,  sir.?  " 

Martin  looked  at  him,  but  answered  not  a  word. 

"Even  Eden,  you  know,  ain't  all  built,"  said  Mark. 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven,  man,"  cried  Martin  angrily, 
"don't  talk  of  Eden  in  the  same  breath  with  that  place.  Are 
you  mad  .''  There — God  forgive  me  ! — don't  think  harshly  of 
me  for  my  temper  !  "   ' 

After  that,  he  turned  away,  and  walked  to  and  fro  upon 
the  deck  full  two  hours.  Nor  did  he  speak  again,  except  to 
say,  "  Good-night,"  until  next  day  ;  nor  even  then  upon  this 
subject,  but  on  other  topics  quite  foreign  to  the  purpose. 

As  they  proceeded  further  on  their  track,  and  came  more 
and  more  towards  their  journey's  end,  the  monotonous  desola- 
tion of  the  scene  increased  to  that  degree,  that  for  any  redeem 
ing  feature  it  presented  to  their  eyes,  they  might  have  entered, 
in  the  body,  on  the  grim  domains  of  Giant  Despair.  A  fiaf 
morass,  bestrewn  with  fallen  timber ;  a  marsh  on  which  the 
good  growth  of  the  earth  seemed  to  have  been  wrecked  and 
cast  away,  that  from  its  decomposing  ashes  vile  and  ugly 
things  might  rise ;  where  the  very  trees  took  the  aspect  of 
huge  weeds,  begotten  of  the  slime  from  which  they  sprung,  by 
the  hot  sun  that  burnt  them  up  ;  where  fatal  maladies,  seek- 
ing whom  they  might  infect,  came  forth  at  night,  in  misty 
shapes,  and  creeping  out  upon  the  water,  hunted  them  like 
spectres  until  day  ;  where  even  the  blessed  sun  shining  down 
on  festering  elements  of  corruption  and  disease,  became  a 
horror ;  this  was  the  realm  of  Hope  through  which  they 
moved. 

At  last  they  stopped.     At  Eden  too.     The  waters  of  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


381 


Deluge  might  have  left  it  but  a  week  before,  so  choked 
with  slime  and  matted  growth  was  the  hideous  swamp  which 
bore  that  name. 

There  being  no  depth  of  water  close  in  shore,  they  landed 
from  the  vessel's  boat,  with  all  their  goods  beside  them. 
There  were  a  few  log-houses  visible  among  the  dark  trees — the 
best,  a  cow-shed  or  a  rude  stable.  But  for  the  wharves,  the 
market-place,  the  public  buildings  ! 

"  Here  comes  an  Edener,"  said  Mark.  "  He'll  get  us 
help  to  carry  these  things  up.  Keep  a  good  heart,  sir.  Hallo 
there  ! " 

The  man  advanced  toward  them  through  the  thickening 
gloom,  very  slowly,  leaning  on  a  stick.  As  he  drew  nearer, 
they  observed  that  he  was  pale  and  worn,  and  that  his  anx- 
ious eyes  were  deeply  sunken  in  his  head.  His  dress  of  home- 
spun blue  hung  about  him  in  rags  ;  his  feet  and  head  were 
bare.  He  sat  down  on  a  stump  half-way,  and  beckoned  them 
to  come  to  him.  When  they  complied,  he  put  his  hand  upon 
his  side  as  if  in  pain,  and  while  he  fetched  his  breath  stared 
at  them,  wondering. 

"  Strangers  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

"  The  very  same,"  said  Mark.     "  How  are  you,  sir?" 

"  I've  had  the  fever  verv  bad,''  he  answered  faintlv.  "  I 
haven't  stood  upright  these  many  wtcks.  Those  are  your 
notions  1  see,"  pointing  to  their  property. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  they  are.  You  couldn't  recom- 
mend us  some  one  as  would  lend  a  hand  to  help  carry  "em  up 
to  the — to  the  town,  could  you,  sir  }  " 

"  My  eldest  son  would  do  it  if  he  could,"  replied  the  man  ; 
"but  to-day  he  has  his  chill  upon  hmi,  and  is  lying  wrapped 
up  in  the  blankets.     My  youngest  died  last  week." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  it,  governor,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Mark, 
shaking  him  by  the  hand.  "  Don't  mind  us.  Come  along 
with  me,  and  I'll  give  you  an  arm  back.  The  goods  is  safe 
enough,  sir,"  to  Martin  ;  "  there  ain't  many  people  about,  to 
make  away  with  'em.     What  a  comfort  that  is  !  " 

"  No,"  cried  the  man.  "  You  must  look  for  such  folk 
here,"  knocking  his  stick  upon  the  ground,  "  or  yonder  in  the 
bush,  towards  the  north.  We've  buried  most  of  'em.  The 
rest  have  gone  away.  Them  that  we  have  here,  don't  come 
out  at  night." 

"  The  night  air  ain't  quite  wholesome,  1  suppose,"  said 
Mark. 


382  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  It's  deadly  poison,"  was  the  settler's  answer. 

Mark  showed  no  more  uneasiness  than  if  it  had  been  com- 
mended to  him  as  ambrosia ;  but  he  gave  the  man  his  arm, 
and  as  they  went  along  explained  to  him  the  nature  of  their 
purchase,  and  inquired  where  it  lay.  Close  to  his  own  log- 
house,  he  said ;  so  close  that  he  had  used  their  dwelling  as  a 
store-house  for  some  corn  ;  they  must  excuse  it  that  night,  but 
he  would  endeavor  to  get  it  taken  out  upon  the  morrow.  He 
then  gave  them  to  understand,  as  an  additional  scrap  of  local 
chit-chat,  that  he  had  buried  the  last  proprietor  with  his  own 
hands  ;  a  piece  of  information  which  Mark  also  received  with- 
out the  least  abatement  of  his  equanimity. 

In  a  word,  he  conducted  them  to  a  miserable  cabin,  rudely 
constructed  of  the  trunks  of  trees,  the  door  of  which  had 
either  fallen  down  or  been  carried  away  long  ago,  and  which 
was  consequently  open  to  the  wild  landscape  and  the  dark 
night.  Saving  for  the  little  store  he  had  mentioned,  it  was 
perfectly  bare  of  all  furniture ;  but  they  had  left  a  chest  upon 
the  landing-place,  and  he  gave  them  a  rude  torch  in  lieu  of 
candle.  This  latter  acquisition  Mark  planted  in  the  earth, 
and  then  declaring  that  the  mansion  "  looked  quite  comfort- 
able," hurried  Martin  off  again  to  help  bring  up  the  chest. 
And  all  the  way  to  the  landing-place  and  back,  Mark  talked 
incessantly,  as  if  he  would  infuse  into  his  partner's  breast 
some  faint  belief  that  they  had  arrived  under  the  most  auspi- 
cious and  cheerful  of  all  imaginable  circumstances. 

But  many  a  man  who  would  have  stood  within  a  home 
dismantled,  strong  in  his  passion  and  design  of  vengeance, 
has  had  the  firmness  of  his  nature  conquered  by  the  razing  of 
an  air-built  castle.  When  the  log-hut  received  them  for  the 
second  time,  Martin  lay  down  upon  the  ground,  and  wept 
aloud. 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  great  terror  ; 
"  Don't  do  that  !  Don't  do  that,  sir !  Anything  but  that  !  It 
never  helped  man,  woman,  or  child,  over  the  lowest  fence  yet, 
sir,  and  it  never  will.  Besides  its  being  of  no  use  to  you,  it's 
worse  than  of  no  use  to  me,  for  the  least  sound  of  it  will  knock 
me  flat  down.  I  can't  stand  up  agin  it,  sir.  Anything  but 
that ! " 

There  is  no  doubt  he  spoke  the  truth,  for  the  extraordi- 
nary alarm  with  which  he  looked  at  Martin  as  he  paused  upon 
his  knees  before  the  chest,  in  the  act  of  unlocking  it,  to  say 
these  words,  sufficiently  confirmed  him. 


MARTnV  CHUZZLEWIT.  383 

"  I  ask  your  forgiveness  a  thousand  times,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  Martin.  "  I  couldn't  have  helped  it,  if  death  had  been 
the  penalty." 

"  Ask  my  forgiveness  !  "  said  Mark,  with  his  accustomed 
cheerfulness,  as  he  proceeded  to  unpack  the  chest.  "  The 
head  partner  a  asking  forgiveness  of  Co.,  eh  ?  There  must  be 
something  wrong  in  the  firm  when  that  happens.  I  must  ha\e 
the  books  inspected,  and  the  accounts  gone  over  immediate. 
Here  we  are.  Everything  in  its  proper  place.  Here's  the 
salt  pork.  Here's  the  biscuit.  Here's  the  whiskey.  Uncom- 
mon good  it  smells  too.  Here's  the  tin  pot.  This  tin  pot's  a 
small  fortun'  in  itself !  Here's  the  blankets.  Here's  the  axe. 
Who  says  we  aui't  got  a  first-rate  fit  out  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  was 
a  cadet  gone  out  to  Indy,  and  my  noble  father  was  chairman 
of  the  Board  of  Directors.  Now,  when  I've  got  some  water 
from  the  stream  afore  the  door  and  mixed  the  grog,"  cried 
Mark,  running  out  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word,  "  there's  a 
supper  ready,  comprising  ever}^  delicacy  of  the  season.  Here 
we  are,  sir,  all  complete.  For  what  we  are  going  to  receive, 
et  cetrer.     T^ord  bless  you,  sir,  it's  very  like  a  gipsy  party  !  " 

It  was  impossible  not  to  take  heart,  in  the  company  of  such 
a  man  as  this.  Martin  sat  upon  the  ground  beside  the  box, 
took  out  his  knife,  and  ate  and  drank  sturdily. 

"Now  you  see,"  said  Mark,  when  they  had  made  a  hearty 
meal,  "with  your  knife  and  mine.  I  sticks  this  blanket  right 
afore  tlie  door,  or  where,  in  a  stale  of  higli  civilization,  the 
door  would  be.  And  very  neat  it  looks.  Then  I  stops  the 
aperture  below,  by  putting  the  chest  agin  it.  And  very  neat 
that  looks.  Then  there's  your  blanket,  sir.  I'hen  here's 
mine.     And  what's  to  hinder  our  passing  a  good  night  ?  " 

For  all  his  light-hearted  speaking,  it  was  long  before  he 
slept  himself.  He  wrapped  his  blanket  round  him,  put  the 
axe  ready  to  his  hand,  and  lay  across  the  threshold  of  the 
door,  too  anxious  and  too  watchful  to  close  his  eyes.  The 
noveltv  of  their  drearv  situation,  the  dread  of  some  rapacious 
animal  or  human  enemy,  the  terrible  uncertainty  of  their  means 
of  subsistence,  the  apprehension  of  death,  the  immense  dis- 
tance and  the  hosts  of  obstacles  between  themsehes  and 
England,  were  fruitful  sources  of  disquiet  in  the  deep  silence 
of  the  night.  Though  Martin  would  have  had  him  think 
otherwise,  Mark  felt  that  he  was  waking  also,  and  a  prey  to 
the  same  reflections.  'I'his  was  almost  worse  than  all,  for  if 
he  began   to  brood  over  their  miseries  instead  of  trying  to 


384  MARTIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 

make  head  against  them,  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  such 
a  state  of  mind  would  powerfully  assist  the  influence  of  the 
pestilent  climate.  Never  had  the  light  of  day  been  half  so 
welcome  to  his  eyes,  as  when  awakening  from  a  fitful  doze, 
Mark  saw  it  shining  through  the  blanket  in  the  doorway. 

He  stole  out  gently,  for  his  companion  was  sleeping  now  ; 
and  having  refreshed  himself  by  washing  in  the  river,  where  it 
flowed  before  the  door,  took  a  rough  survey  of  the  settlement. 
There  were  not  above  a  score  of  cabins  in  the  whole  ;  half  of 
these  appeared  untenanted  ;  all  were  rotten  and  decayed. 
The  most  tottering,  abject,  and  forlorn  among  them,  was 
called,  with  great  propriety,  the  Bank,  and  National  Credit 
Office.  It  had  some  feeble  props  about  it,  but  was  settling 
deep  down  in  the  mud,  past  all  recovery. 

Here  and  there,  an  effort  had  been  made  to  clear  the  land, 
and  something  like  a  field  had  been  marked  out,  where,  among 
the  stumps  and  ashes  of  burnt  trees,  a  scanty  crop  of  Indian 
corn  was  growing.  In  some  quarters,  a  snake  or  zigzag  fence 
had  been  begun,  but  in  no  instance  had  it  been  completed  ; 
and  the  fallen  logs,  half  hidden  in  the  soil,  lay  mouldering 
away.  Three  or  four  meagre  dogs,  wasted  and  vexed  witli 
hunger ;  some  long-legged  pigs,  wandering  away  into  the 
woods  in  search  of  food  ;  some  children,  nearly  naked,  gazing 
at  him  from  the  huts,  were  all  the  li\ing  things  he  saw.  A 
fetid  vapor,  hot  and  sickening  as  the  breath  of  an  oven,  rose 
up  from  the  earth,  and  hung  on  everything  around  ;  and  as 
his  foot-prints  sunk  into  the  marshy  ground,  a  black  ooze 
started  forth  to  blot  them  out. 

Their  own  land  was  mere  forest.  The  trees  had  grown 
so  thick  and  close  that  they  shouldered  one  another  out  of 
their  places,  and  the  weakest,  forced  into  shapes  of  strange 
distortion,  languished  like  cripples.  The  best  were  stunted, 
from  the  pressure  and  the  want  of  room  ;  and  high  about  the 
stems  of  all,  grew  long  rank  grass,  clank  weeds,  and  frowsy 
underwood,  not  devisable  into  their  separate  kinds,  but 
tangled  all  together  in  a  heap  ;  a  jungle  deep  and  dark,  witli 
neither  earth  nor  water  at  its  roots,  but  putrid  matter,  formed 
of  the  pulpy  offal  of  the  two,  and  of  their  own  corruption. 

He  went  down  to  the  landing-place  where  they  had  left 
their  goods  last  night,  and  there  he  found  some  half-dozen 
men — wan  and  forlorn  to  look  at,  but  ready  enough  to  assist 
— who  helped  him  to  carry  them  to  the  log-house.  Theyshook 
their  heads  in  speaking  of  the  settlement,  and  had  no  comfort 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


385 


to  give  him.  Those  who  had  the  means  of  going  away,  had 
all  deserted  it.  They  who  were  left,  had  lost  their  wives,  their 
children,  friends,  or  brothers  there,  and  suffered  much  them- 
selves. Most  of  them  were  ill  then  ;  none  were  the  men  they 
had  been  once.  They  frankly  offered  their  assistance  and 
advice,  and,  leaving  him  for  that  time,  went  sadly  off  upon  their 
several  tasks. 

Martin  was  by  this  time  stirring ;  but  he  had  greatly 
changed,  even  in  one  night.  He  was  ver}^  pale  and  languid  ; 
he  spoke  of  pains  and  weakness  in  his  limbs,  and  complained 
that  his  sight  was  dim,  and  his  voice  feeble.  Increasing  in 
his  own  briskness  as  the  prospect  grew  more  and  more  dismal, 
Mark  brought  away  a  door  from  one  of  the  deserted  houses, 
and  fitted  it  to  their  own  habitation ;  then  went  back  again 
for  a  rude  bench  he  had  observed,  with  which  he  presently 
returned  in  triumph  ;  and  having  put  this  piece  of  furniture 
outside  the  house,  arranged  the  notable  tin-pot  and  other  such 
movables  upon  it,  that  it  might  represent  a  dresser  or  a  side- 
board. Greatly  satisfied  with  this  arrangement,  he  next  rolled 
their  cask  of  flour  into  the  house,  and  set  it  up  on  end  in  one 
corner,  where  it  served  for  a  side  table.  No  better  dining- 
table  could  be  required  than  the  chest,  which  he  solemnly 
devoted  to  that  useful  service  thenceforth.  Their  blankets, 
clothes,  and  the  Jike,  he  hung  on  pegs  and  nails.  And  lastly, 
he  brought  forth  a  great  placard  (which  Martin  in  the  exulta- 
tion of  his  heart  had  prepared  with  his  own  hands  at  the 
National  Hotel),  bearing  the  inscription,  Chuzzlewit  &  Co., 
Architects  and  Surveyors,  which  he  displayed  upon  the 
most  conspicuous  part  of  the  premises,  with  as  much  gravity 
as  if  the  thriving  city  of  Eden  had  a  real  existence,  and  they 
expected  to  be  overwhelmed  with  business. 

"These  here  tools,"  said  Mark,  bringing  forward  Martin's 
case  of  instruments  and  sticking  the  compasses  upright  in  a 
stump  before  the  door,  "  shall  be  set  out  in  the  open  air  to 
show  that  we  come  provided.  And  now,  if  any  gentleman 
wants  a  house  built,  he'd  better  give  his  orders,  afore  we're 
other  ways  bespoke." 

Considering  the  intense  heat  of  the  weather,  this  was  not 
a  bad  morning's  work  ;  but  without  pausing  for  a  moment, 
though  he  was  streaming  at  e\ery  pore,  Mark  vanished  into 
the  house  again,  and  presently  reappeared  with  a  hatchet, 
intent  on  performing  some  impossibilities  with  that  implement. 

"  Here's   a   ugly  old   tree   in    the   way,  sir,"  he   observed, 

2!; 


386  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  which'll  be  all  the  better  down.  We  can  build  the  oven  in 
the  afternoon.  There  never  was  such  a  handy  spot  for  clay 
as  Eden  is.     That's  convenient,  anyhow." 

But  Martin  gave  him  no  answer.  He  had  sat  the  whole 
time  with  his  head  upon  his  hands,  gazing  at  the  current  as  it 
rolled  swiftly  by  ;  thinking,  perhaps,  how  fast  it  moved  towards 
the  open  sea,  the  high  road  to  the  home  he  never  would  be- 
hold again. 

Not  even  the  vigorous  strokes  which  Mark  dealt  at  the 
tree,  awoke  him  from  his  mournful  meditation.  Finding  all 
his  endeavors  to  rouse  him  of  no  use,  Mark  stopped  in  his  work 
and  came  towards  him. 

"  Don't  give  in,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Oh,  Mark,"  returned  his  friend,  "  What  have  I  done  in 
all  my  life  that  has  deserved  this  heavy  fate  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "for  the  matter  of  that,  ev'ry- 
body  as  is  here  might  say  the  same  thing  ;  many  of  'em  with 
better  reason  p'raps  than  you  or  me.  Hold  up,  sir.  Do 
something.  Couldn't  you  ease  your  mind,  now,  don't  you 
think,  by  making  some  personal  obserwations  in  a  letter  to 
Scadder  t " 

"  No,"  said  Martin,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully,  "  I  am 
past  that." 

"But  if  you're  past  that  already,"  returned  Mark,  "you 
must  be  ill,  and  ought  to  be  attended  to." 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  said  Martin.  "  Do  the  best  you  can 
for  yourself.  You'll  soon  have  only  yourself  to  consider, 
And  then  God  speed  you  home,  and  forgive  me  for  bringing 
you  here  !  I  am  destined  to  die  in  this  place.  I  felt  it  the 
instant  I  set  foot  upon  the  shore.  Sleeping  or  waking,  Mark, 
I  dreamed  it  all  last  night." 

"  I  said  you  must  be  ill,"  returned  Mark,  tenderly,  "  and 
now  I'm  sure  of  it.  A  touch  of  fever  and  ague  caught  on  these 
rivers,  I  daresay  ;  but  bless  you,  ^//afs  nothing.  It's  only  a 
seasoning  ;  and  we  must  all  be  seasoned,  one  way  or  another. 
That's  religion,  that  is,  you  know,"  said  Mark. 

He  only  sighed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Wait  half  a  minute,"  said  Mark  cheerily,  "  till  I  run  up 
to  one  of  our  neighbors  and  ask  what's  best  to  be  took,  and 
borrow  a  little  of  it  to  give  you  ;  and  to-morrow  you'll  find 
yourself  as  strong  as  ever  again.  I  won't  be  gone  a  minute. 
Don't  give  in,  while  I'm  away,  whatever  you  do  !  " 

Throwing  down  his  hatchet,  he  sped  away  immediately, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  387 

but  stopped  when   he   had  got  a  Httle   distance,  and   looked 
back  :  then  hurried  on  again. 

"Now,  Mr.  Tapley,"  said  Mark,  giving  himself  a  tremen- 
dous blow  in  the  chest  by  way  of  reviver,  "  just  you  attend  to 
what  I've  got  to  say.  Things  is  looking  about  as  bad  as  they 
can  look,  young  man.  You'll  not  have  such  another  oppor- 
tunity for  showing  your  jolly  disposition,  my  fine  fellow,  as 
long  as  you  live.  And  therefore,  Tapley  Now's  your  time  to 
come  out  strong  ;  or  Never  1  " 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


■REPORTS    PROGRESS    IN    CERTAIN     HOMELY     MATTERS    OF    LOVE, 
HATRED,    JEALOUSY,    AND    REVENGE. 

Hallo,  Pecksniff !  "  cried  Mr.  Jonas  from  the  parlor. 
"  Isn't  somebody  agoing  to  open  that  precious  old  door  of 
yours? " 

"  Immediately,  Mr.  Jonas.     Immediately." 

"Ecod,"  muttered  the  orphan,  "not  before  it's  time 
neither.  Whoever  it  is,  has  knocked  three  times,  and  each 
one  loud  enough  to  wake  the — "  he  had  such  a  repugnance  to 
the  idea  of  waking  the  Dead,  that  he  stopped  even  then  with 
the  words  upon  his  tongue,  and  said,  instead,  "  the  Seven 
Sleepers." 

"  Immediately,  Mr.  Jonas ;  immediately,"  repeated  Peck- 
sniff. "  Thomas  Pinch  " — he  couldn't  make  up  his  mind,  in 
in  his  great  agitation  whether  to  call  Tom  his  dear  friend  or  a 
villain,  so  he  shook  his  fist  at  him  pro  tern. — "  go  up  to  my 
daughters'  room,  and  tell  them  who  is  here.  Say,  Silence. 
Silence  !     Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Directly,  sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  departing,  in  a  state  of  much 
amazement,  on  his  errand. 

"You'll — ha  ha  ha! — you'll  excuse  me,  Mr.  Jonas,  if  I 
close  this  door  a  moment,  will  you  .^ "  said  Pecksniflf.  "  This 
may  be  a  professional  call.  Indeed  I  am  pretty  sure  it  is. 
Thank  you."  Then  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gently  warbling  a  rustic 
Stave,  put  on  his  garden  hat,  seized  a  spade,  and  opened  the 


388  ^^AJ? TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

street  door,  calmly  appearing  on  the  threshold,  as  if  he  thought 
he  had,  from  his  vineyard,  heard  a  modest  rap,  but  was  not 
quite  certain. 

Seeing  a  gentleman  and.  lady  before  him,  he  started  back 
in  as  much  confusion  as  a  good  man  with  a  crystal  conscience 
might  betray  in  mere  surprise.  Recognition  came  upon  him 
the  next  moment,  and  he  cried  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  !  My  dear 
sir  ;  my  good  sir  !  A  jo^iul  hour,  a  happy  hour  indeed.  Pray, 
my  dear  sir,  walk  in.  You  find  me  in  my  garden-dress.  You 
will  excuse  it,  I  know.  It  is  an  ancient  pursuit,  gardening. 
Primitive,  my  dear  sir ;  for,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Adam  was  the 
first  of  our  calling.  My  Eve,  I  grieve  to  say,  is  no  more,  sir  ; 
but  " — here  he  pointed  to  his  spade,  and  shook  his  head,  as  if 
he  were  not  cheerful  without  an  effort — "  but  I  do  a  little  bit 
of  Adam  still." 

He  had  by  this  time  got  them  into  the  best  parlor,  where 
the  portrait  by  Spiller,  and  the  bust  by  Spoker  were. 

"  My  daughters,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  will  be  overjoyed. 
If  I  could  feel  weary  upon  such  a  theme,  I  should  have  been 
worn  out  long  ago,  my  dear  sir,  by  their  constant  anticipation 
of  this  happiness,  and  their  repeated  allusions  to  our  meeting 
at  Mrs.  Todgers's.  Their  fair  young  friend,  too,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  "  whom  they  so  desire  to  know  and  love — indeed  to 
know  her,  is  to  love — I  hope  I  see  her  well.  I  hope  in  saying, 
'  Welcome  to  my  humble  roof  ! '  I  find  some  echo  in  her  own 
sentiments.  If  features  are  an  index  to  the  heart,  I  have  no 
fears  of  that.  An  extremely  engaging  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  dear  sir  ;  very  much  so  !  " 

"  Mary,"  said  the  old  man,  "  Mr.  Pecksniff  flatters  you. 
But  flattery  from  him  is  worth  the  having.  He  is  not  a 
dealer  in  it,  and  it  comes  from  his  heart.  We  thought 
Mr. " 

"Pinch,"  said  Mary. 

"  Mr.  Pinch  would  have  arrived  before  us,  Pecksniff." 

"  He  did  arrive  before  you,  my  dear  sir,"  retorted  Peck- 
sniff,-raising  his  voice  for  the  edification  of  Tom  upon  the 
stairs,  "and  was  about,  I  dare  say,  to  tell  me  of  your  coming, 
when  I  begged  him  first  to  knock  at  my  daughters'  chamber, 
and  inquire  after  Charity,  my  dear  child,  who  is  not  so  well 
as  I  could  wish.  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  answering  their 
looks.  "  I  am  sorry  to  say,  she  is  not.  It  is  merely  an  hyster- 
ical affection  ;  nothing  more.     I  am  not  uneasy.     Mr.  Pinch  ! 


MARTTN  CHUZZLEWIT.  389 

Thomas  !  "  exclaimed  Pecksniff,  in  his  kindest  accents.  "  Pray 
come  in.  I  shall  make  no  stranger  of  you.  Thomas  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  of  rather  long-standing,  \\x.  Chuzzlewit,  you 
must  know." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  You  introduce  me-  very 
kindly,  and  speak  of  me  in  terms  of  which  I  am  veiy  proud." 

"  Old  Thomas  !  "  cried  his  master,  pleasantly.  "  God 
bless  you  ! " 

Tom  reported  that  the  young  ladies  would  appear  directly, 
and  that  the  best  refreshments  which  the  house  afforded  were 
even  then  in  preparation,  under  their  joint  superintendence. 
While  he  was  speaking,  the  old  man  looked  at  him  intently, 
though  with  less  harshness  than  was  common  to  him  ;  nor 
did  the  mutual  embarrassment  of  Tom  and  the  }'oung  lady,  to 
whatever  cause  he  attributed  it,  seem  to  escape  his  observa- 
tion. 

"  Pecksniff,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  rising  and  taking  him 
aside  towards  the  window,  "  I  was  much  shocked  on  hearing 
of  my  brother's  death.  We  had  been  strangers  for  many 
years.  My  only  comfort  is,  that  he  must  have  lived  the  hap- 
pier and  better  man  for  having  associated  no  hopes  or  schemes 
with  me.  Peace  to  his  memory  !  We  were  playfellows  once  ; 
and  it  would  have  been  better  for  us  both  if  we  had  died 
then." 

Finding  him  in  this  gentle  mood,  Mr.  Pecksniff  began  to 
see  another  way  out  of  his  diihculties,  besides  the  casting 
overboard  of  Jonas. 

"  That  any  man,  my  dear  sir,  could  possibly  be  the  happier 
for  not  knowing  you,"  he  returned,  "you  will  excuse  my 
doubting.  But  that  Mr.  Anthony,  in  the  evening  of  his  life, 
was  happier  in  the  affection  of  liis  excellent  son — a  pattern, 
my  dear  sir,  a  pattern  to  all  sons — and  in  the  care  of  a  distant 
relation,  who,  however  lowly  in  his  means  of  serving  him,  had 
no  bounds  to  his  inclination  :  /can  inform  you." 

"How's  this?"  said  the  old  man.  "You  are  not  a 
legatee  }  " 

"  You  don't,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  melancholy  pres- 
sure of  his  hand,  "  quite  understand  my  nature  yet,  1  find. 
No,  sir,  I  am  not  a  legatee.  1  am  proud  to  say  I  am  not  a 
legatee.  I  am  proud  to  say  that  neither  of  my  children  is  a 
legatee.  And  yet,  sir,  I  was  with  him  at  his  own  request.  Hi 
understood  me  somewhat  better,  sir.  He  wrote  and  said,  '  I 
am  sick.     I  am  sinking.     Come  to  me  ! '     I  went  to  him.     I 


3go  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sat  beside  his  bed,  sir,  and  I  stood  beside  his  grave.  Yes,  at 
the  risk  of  offending  even  yoti,  I  did  it,  sir.  Tliough  the 
avowal  should  lead  to  our  instant  separation,  and  to  the  sever- 
ing of  those  tender  ties  between  us  which  have  recently  been 
formed,  I  make  it.  But  I  am  not  a  legatee,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, smiling  dispassionately ;  "  and  I  never  expected  to  be  a 
legatee.     I  knew  better  !  " 

"  His  son  a  pattern  !  "  cried  old  Martin.  "  How  can  you 
tell  me  that  ?  My  brother  had  in  his  wealth  the  usual  doom 
of  wealth,  and  root  of  misery.  He  carried  his  corrupting  in- 
fluence with  him,  go  where  he  would ;  and  shed  it  round  him, 
even  on  his  hearth.  It  made  of  his  own  child  a  greedy  ex- 
pectant, who  measured  every  day  and  hour  the  lessening  dis- 
tance between  his  father  and  the  grave,  and  cursed  his  tardy 
progress  on  that  dismal  road." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  boldly.     "  Not  at  all,  sir  !  " 

"  But  I  saw  that  shadow  in  his  house,"  said  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit,  "  the  last  time  we  met,  and  warned  him  of  its  presence. 
I  know  it  when  I  see  it,  do  I  not .''  I,  who  have  lived  within 
it  all  these  years  !  " 

"  I  deny  it,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered,  warmly.  "  I  deny  it 
altogether.  That  bereaved  young  man  is  now  in  this  house, 
sir,  seeking  in  change  of  scene  the  peace  of  mind  he  has  lost. 
Shall  I  be  backward  in  doing  justice  to  that  young  man,  when 
even  undertakers  and  coffin-makers  have  been  moved  by  the 
conduct  he  has  exhibited  ;  when  even  mutes  have  spoken  in 
his  praise,  and  the  medical  man  hasn't  known  what  to  do  with 
himself  in  the  excitement  of  his  feelings  !  There  is  a  person 
of  the  name  of  Gamp,  sir — Mrs.  Gamp — ask  her.  She  saw 
Mr.  Jonas  in  a  trying  time.  Ask  her,  sir.  She  is  respectable, 
but  not  sentimental,  and  will  state  the  fact.  A  line  addressed 
to  Mrs.  Gamp,  at  the  Bird-shop,  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Hol- 
born,  London,  will  meet  with  every  attention,  I  have  no  doubt. 
Let  her  be  examined,  my  good  sir.  Strike,  but  hear  !  Leap, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  but  look  !  Forgive  me,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  both  his  hands,  "  if  I  am  warm ;  but  I 
am  honest,  and  must  state  the  truth." 

In  proof  of  the  character  he  gave  himself,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
suffered  tears  of  honesty  to  ooze  out  of  his  eyes. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  look  of 
wonder,  repeating  to  himself,  "  Here  now  !  In  this  house  !  " 
But  he  mastered  his  surprise,  and  said,  after  a  pause : 

"  Let  me  see  him." 

^ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


391 


In  a  friendly  spirit,  I  hope  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Forgive  me,  sir,  but  he  is  in  the  receipt  of  my  liumble  hos- 
pitahty." 

"  I  said,"  repHed  the  old  man,  "  let  me  see  him.  If  I 
were  disposed  to  regard  him  in  any  other  than  a  friendly 
spirit,  I  should  have  said,  keep  us  apart." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  So  you  would.  You  are  frank- 
ness itself,  I  know.  I  will  break  this  happiness  to  him,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  he  left  the  room,  "  if  you  will  excuse  me  for 
a  minute,  gently." 

He  paved  the  way  to  the  disclosure  so  very  gently,  that  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  before  he  returned  with  Mr.  Jonas. 
In  the  meantime  the  young  ladies  had  made  their  appearance, 
and  the  table  had  been  set  out  for  the  refreshment  of  the 
travellers. 

Now,  however  well  Mr  Pecksniff,  in  his  morality,  had 
taught  Jonas  the  lesson  of  dutiful  behavior  to  his  uncle,  and 
however  perfectly  Jonas,  in  the  cunning  his  nature,  had  learnt 
it,  that  young  man's  bearing,  when  presented  to  his  father's 
brother,  was  anything  but  manly  or  engaging.  Perhaps,  in- 
deed, so  singular  a  mixture  of  defiance  and  obsequiousness, 
of  fear  and  hardihood,  of  dogged  sullenness  and  an  attempt  at 
cringing  and  propitiation,  never  was  expressed  in  any  one 
human  figure  as  in  that  of  Jonas,  when,  having  raised  his 
downcast  eyes  to  Martin's  face,  he  let  them  fall  again,  and 
uneasily  closing  and  unclosing  his  hands  without  a  moment's 
intermission,  stood  swinging  himself  from  side  to  side,  waiting 
to  be  addressed. 

"  Nephew,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  have  been  a  dutiful 
son,  I  hear." 

"  As  dutiful  as  sons  in  general,  I  suppose,"  returned 
Jonas,  looking  up  and  down  once  more.  "  I  don't  brag  to 
have  been  any  better  than  other  sons  ;  but  I  haven't  been  any 
worse  I  dare  say." 

"A  pattern  to  all  sons,  I  am  told,"  said  the  old  man, 
glancing  towards  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Ecod !  "  said  Jonas,  looking  up  again  for  a  moment,  and 
shaking  his  head,  "  I've  been  as  good  a  son  as  ever  you  were 
a  brother.     It's  the  pot  and  the  kettle,  if  you  come  to  that." 

"  You  speak  bitterly,  in  the  violence  of  your  regret,"  said 
Martin,  after  a  pause.     "  Give  me  your  hand." 

Jonas  did  so,  and  was  almost  at  his  ease.  "  Pecksniff," 
he  whispered,  as  they  drew  their  chairs  about  the  table  :  *'I 


392 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


gave  him  as  good  as  he  brought,  eh  ?     He  had  better  look  at 
home,  before  he  looks  out  of  window,  I  think  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  only  answered  by  a  nudge  of  the  elbow, 
which  might  either  be  construed  into  an  indignant  remon- 
strance or  a  cordial  assent ;  but  which,  in  any  case,  was  an 
emphatic  admonition  to  his  chosen  son-in-law  to  be  silent. 
He  then  proceeded  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house  with  his  ac- 
customed ease  and  amiability. 

But  not  even  Mr.  Pecksniff's  guileless  merriment  could 
set  such  a  party  at  their  ease,  or  reconcile  materials  so  utterly 
discordant  and  conflicting  as  those  with  which  he  had  to  deal. 
The  unspeakable  jealousy  and  hatred  which  that  night's  ex- 
planation had  sown  in  Charity's  breast,  was  not  to  be  so 
easily  kept  down  ;  and  more  than  once  it  showed  itself  in 
such  intensity,  as  seemed  to  render  a  full  disclosure  of  all  the 
circumstances  then  and  there,  impossible  to  be  avoided.  The 
beauteous  Merry,  too,  with  all  the  glory  of  her  conquest  fresh 
upon  her,  so  j^robed  and  lanced  the  rankling  disappointment 
of  her  sister  by  her  capricious  airs,  and  thousand  little  trials 
of  Mr.  Jonas's  obedience,  that  she  almost  goaded  her  into  a 
fit  of  madness,  and  obliged  her  to  retire  from  table  in  a  burst 
of  passion,  hardly  less  vehement  than  that  to  which  she  had 
abandoned  herself  in  the  first  tumult  of  her  wrath.  The  con- 
straint imposed  upon  the  family  by  the  presence  among  them 
for  the  first  time  of  Mary  Graham  (for  by  that  name  old  Mar- 
tin Chuzzlewit  had  introduced  her)  did  not  at  all  improve  this 
state  of  things  ;  gentle  and  quiet  though  her  manner  was. 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  situation  was  peculiarly  tr}ang ;  for,  what  with 
having  constantly  to  keep  the  peace  between  his  daughters  ; 
to  maintain  a  reasonable  show  of  affection  and  unity  in  his 
household  ;  to  curb  the  growing  ease  and  gaiety  of  Jonas, 
which  vented  itself  in  sundry  insolences  towards  Mr.  Pinch, 
and  an  indefinable  coarseness  of  manner  in  reference  to  Mary 
(they  being  the  two  dependants)  ;  to  make  no  mention  at  all 
of  his  having  perpetually  to  conciliate  his  rich  old  relative, 
and  to  smooth  down,  or  explain  away,  some  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand bad  appearances  and  combinations  of  bad  appearances-, 
by  which  they  were  surrounded  on  that  unlucky  evening — ■ 
what  with  having  to  do  this,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  sum 
up  how  much  more,  without  the  least  relief  or  assistance  from 
anybody,  it  may  be  easily  imagined  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  in 
his  enjoyment  something  more  than  that  usual  portion  of  alloy 
which  is  mixed  up  with  the  best  of  men's  delights.     Perhaps 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


393 


he  had  never  in  his  life  felt  such  relief  as  when  old  Martin, 
looking  at  his  watch,  announced  that  it  was  time  to  go. 

"We  have  rooms,"  he  said,  "at  the  Dragon,  for  (he  pres- 
ent. 1  have  a  fancy  for  the  evening  walk.  The  nights  are 
dark  just  now  :  perhaps  Mr.  Pinch  would  not  object  to  light 
us  home  ?  " 

"  My  dear  sir  !  "  cried  Pecksniff,  "  /  shall  be  delighted. 
Merry,  my  child,  the  lantern." 

"The  lantern,  if  you  please,  my  dear,"  said  Martin  ;  "  but 
I  couldn't  think  of  taking  your  father  out  of  doors  to-night ; 
and,  to  be  brief,  I  won't." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  already  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  but  it  was 
so  emphatically  said  that  he  paused. 

"I  take  Mr.- Pinch,  or  go  alone,"  said  Martin.  "Which 
shall  it  be  ? ' 

"It  shall  be  Thomas,  sir,"  cried  Pecksniff,  "  since  you  are 
so  resolute  upon  it.  Thomas,  my  friend,  be  very  careful,  if 
you  please." 

Tom  was  in  some  need  of  this  injunction,  for  he  felt  so 
nervous,  and  trembled  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  hold  the  lantern.  How  much  more  difficult  when,  at 
the  old  man's  bidding,  she  drew  her  hand  through  his,  Tom 
Pinch's,  arm  ! 

"  And  so,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  on  the  way,  "  you  are 
veiy  comfortably  situated  here  ;  are  you  ?  " 

Tom  answered,  with  even  more  than  his  usual  enthusiasm, 
that  he  was  under  obligations  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  which  the  de- 
votion of  a  lifetime  would  but  imperfectly  repay. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  my  nephew  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Your  nephew,  sir  !  "  faltered  Tom. 

"Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,"  cried  Tom,  greatly  relieved,  for  his  mind 
was  running  upon  Martin.  "  Certainly.  1  never  spoke  to  him 
before  to-night,  sir  !  " 

"  Perhaps  half  a  lifetime  will  suffice  for  the  acknowledgment 
of  his  kindness,"  observed  the  old  man. 

Tom  felt  that  this  was  a  rebuff  for  him,  and  could  nofbut 
understand  it  as  a  left-handed  hit  at  his  employer.  So  he  was 
silent.  Mary  felt  that  Mr.  Pinch  was  not  remarkable  for 
presence  of  mind,  and  that  he  could  not  say  too  little  under 
existing  circumstances.  So  she  was  silent.  The  old  man  dis- 
gusted by  what  in  his  suspicious  nature  he  considered  a  shame- 
less and  fulsome  puff  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  was  a  part  of 


394 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Tom's  hired  service  and  in  which  he  was  determined  to  perse- 
vere, set  him  down  at  once  for  a  deceitful,  servile,  miserable, 
fawner.  So  he  was  silent.  And  though  they  were  all  suffi- 
ciently uncomfortable,  it  is  fair  to  say  that  Martin  was  per- 
haps the  most  so  ;  for  he  had  felt  kindly  towards  Tom  at  first, 
and  had  been  interested  by  his  seeming  simplicity. 

"  You're  like  the  rest,"  he  thought,  glancing  at  the  face  of 
the  unconscious  Tom.  "  You  had  nearly  imposed  upon  me, 
but  you  have  lost  your  labor.  You  are  too  zealous  a  toad-eater, 
and  betray  yourself,  Mr.  Pinch." 

During  the  whole  remainder  of  the  walk,  not  another  word 
was  spoken.  First  among  the  meetings  to  which  Tom  had 
long  looked  forward  with  a  beating  heart,  it  was  memorable 
for  nothing  but  embarrassment  and  confusion.  They  parted 
at  the  Dragon  door  ;  and  sighing  as  he  extinguished  the  candle 
in  the  lantern,  Tom  turned  back  again  over  the  gloomy  fields. 

As  he  approached  the  first  stile,  which  was  in  a  lonely 
part,  made  very  dark  by  a  plantation  of  young  firs,  a  man 
slipped  past  him  and  went  on  before.  Coming  to  the  stile  he 
stopped,  and  took  his  seat  upon  it.  Tom  was  rather  startled, 
and  for  a  moment  stood  still ;  but  he  stepped  forward  again 
immediately,  and  went  close  up  to  him. 

It  was  Jonas  ;  swinging  his  legs  to  and  fro,  sucking  the 
head  of  a  stick,  and  looking  with  a  sneer  at  Tom. 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom,  "  who  would  have 
thought  of  its  being  you  !     You  followed  us,  then  t  " 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?"  said  Jonas.     "  Go  to  the  devil !  " 

"You  are  not  very  civil,  I  think,"  remarked  Tom. 

"  Civil  enough  iox  you"  retorted  Jonas.      "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  One  who  has  as  good  a  right  to  common  consideration 
as  another,"  said  Tom,  mildly. 

"  You're  a  liar,"  said  Jonas.  "  You  haven't  a  right  to  any 
consideration.  You  haven't  a  right  to  anything.  You're  a 
pretty  sort  of  fellow  to  talk  about  your  rights,  upon  my  soul ! 
Ha,  ha !     Rights,  too  !  " 

."  If  you  proceed  in  this  way,"  returned  Tom,  reddening, 
"  yoii  will  oblige  me  to  talk  about  my  wrongs.  But  I  hope 
your  joke  is  over." 

"  It's  the  way  with  you  curs,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  that  when 
you  know  a  man's  in  real  earnest,  you  pretend  to  think  he's 
joking,  so  that  you  may  turn  it  off.  But  that  won't  do  with 
me.  It's  too  stale.  Now  just  attend  to  me  for  a  bit,  Mr. 
Pitch,  or  Witch,  or  Stitch,  or  whatever  your  name  is." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


395 


"  My  name  is  Pinch,"  observed  Tom.  "  Have  the  goodness 
to  call  me  by  it." 

"  What !  You  mustn't  even  be  called  out  of  your  name, 
mustn't  you  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  Pauper 'prentices  are  looking 
up,  I  think.  Ecod,  we  manage  'em  a  little  better  in  the 
city  !  " 

"  Never  mind  what  you  do  in  the  city,"  said  Tom.  "  What 
have  you  got  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

"Just  this.  Mister  Pinch,"  retorted  Jonas,  thrusting  his 
face  so  close  to  Tom's  that  Tom  was  obliged  to  retreat  a  step, 
"  I  advise  you  to  keep  your  own  counsel,  and  to  avoid  tittle- 
tattle,  and  not  to  cut  in  where  you're  not  wanted.  I've  heard 
something  of  you,  my  friend,  and  your  meek  ways  ;  and  I 
recommend  you  to  forget  'em  till  I  am  married  to  one  of  Peck- 
snifif's  gals,  and  not  to  curry  favor  among  my  relations,  but  to 
leave  the  coast  clear.  You  know,  when  curs  won't  leave  the 
course  clear,  they're  whipped  off ;  so  this  is  kind  advice.  Do 
you  understand  ?  Eh  ?  Damme,  who  are  you,"  cried  Jonas, 
with  increased  contempt,  "  that  you  should  walk  home  with 
them,  unless  it  was  behind  'em,  like  any  other  servant  out  of 
livery  ?  " 

"  Come  !  "  cried  Tom,  "  I  see  that  you  had  better  get  off 
the  stile,  and  let  me  pursue  my  way  home.  Make  room  for 
me,  if  you  please." 

"  Don't  think  it ! "  said  Jonas,  spreading  out  his  legs. 
"  Not  till  I  choose.  And  I  don't  choose  now.  What  !  You're 
afraid  of  my  making  you  split  upon  some  of  your  babbling 
just  now,  are  you.  Sneak  ?  " 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  many  things,  I  hope,"  said  Tom; 
"and  certainly  not  of  anything  that  you  will  do.  I  am  not  a 
tale-bearer,  and  I  despise  all  meanness.  You  quite  mistake 
me.  Ah  !  "  cried  Tom,  indignantly.  "  Is  this  manly  from 
one  in  your  position  to  one  in  mine .''  Please  to  make  room 
for  me  to  pass.     The  less  I  say,  the  better." 

''  The  less  you  say  !  "  retorted  Jonas,  dangling  his  legs  the 
more,  and  taking  no  heed  of  this  request.  "  You  say  very 
little,  don't  you  }  Ecod,  I  should  like  to  know  what  goes  on 
between  you  and  a  vagabond  member  of  my  family.  There's 
very  little  in  that  too,  I  daresay  !  " 

"  I  know  no  vagabond  member  of  your  family,"  cried  Tom, 
stoutly. 

"  You  do  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  I   don't,"  said  Tom.     "  Your  uncle's   namesake,  if  you 


396 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


mean  him,  is  no  vagabond.  Any  comparison  between  you  and 
him  " — Tom  snapped  his  fingers  at  him,  for  he  was  rising  fast 
in  wrath — "  is  immeasurably  to  your  disadvantage." 

"  Oh  indeed  !  "  sneered  Jonas.  "  And  what  do  you  think 
of  his  deary,  his  beggarly  leavings,  eh.  Mister  Pinch  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say  another  word,  or  stay  here  another 
instant,"  replied  Tom. 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  you're  a  liar,"  said  Jonas,  coolly. 
"  You'll  stay  here  till  I  give  you  leave  to  go.  Now,  keep 
where  you  are,  will  you  ?  " 

He  flourished  his  stick  over  Tom's  head  ;  but  in  a  moment 
it  was  spinning  harmlessly  in  the  air,  and  Jonas  himself  lay 
sprawling  in  the  ditch.  In  the  momentary  struggle  for  the 
stick,  Tom  had  brought  it  into  violent  contact  with  his  op- 
ponent's forehead  ;  and  the  blood  welled  out  profusely  from  a 
deep  cut  on  the  temple.  Tom  was  first  apprised  of  this  by 
seeing  that  he  pressed  his  handkerchief  to  the  wounded  part, 
and  staggered  as  he  rose,  being  stunned. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  1  am  very  sorr}-.  Lean 
on  me  for  a  moment.  You  can  do  that  without  forgiving  me, 
if  you  still  bear  me  malice.  But  I  don't  know  why  ;  for  I 
never  offended  you  before  we  met  on  this  spot." 

He  made  him  no  answer,  not  appearing  at  first  to  under- 
stand him,  or  even  to  know  that  he  was  hurt,  though  he 
several  times  took  his  handkerchief  from  the  cut  to  look  va- 
cantly at  the  blood  upon  it.  After  one  of  these  examinations, 
he  looked  at  Tom^  and  then  tliere  was  an  expression  in  his 
features,  which  showed  that  he  understood  what  had  taken 
place,  and  would  remember  it. 

Nothing  more  passed  between  them  as  they  went  home. 
Jonas  kept  a  little  in  advance,  and  Tom  Pinch  sadly  followed, 
thinking  of  the  grief  which  the  knowledge  of  this  quarrel  must 
occasion  his  excellent  benefactor.  When  Jonas  knocked  at  the 
door,  Tom's  heart  beat  high ;  higher  when  Miss  Mercy  an- 
swered it,  and  seeing  her  wounded  lover,  shrieked  aloud ; 
higher,  when  he  followed  them  into  the  family  parlor;  higher 
than  at  any  other  time,  when  Jonas  spoke. 

■  "Don't  make  a  noise  about  it,"  he  said.  "It's  nothing 
worth  mentioning.  I  didn't  know  the  road  ;  the  night's  very 
dark  ;  and  just  as  I  came  up  with  Mr.  Pinch  " — he  turned 
his  face  towards  Tom,  but  not  his  eyes — "  I  ran  against  a  tree. 
It's  only  skin  deep." 

Cold  water,   Merry,   my  child ! "    cried    Mr.    Pecksniff. 


('   ; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  397 

"  Brown  paper  !  Scissors!  A  piece  of  old  linen  !  Charity, 
my  clear,  make  a  bandage.     Bless  me,  Mr.  Jonas  !  " 

"  Oh,  bother  jw/r  nonsense,"  returned  the  gracious  son- 
in-law  elect.  "  Be  of  some  use  if  you  can.  If  you  can't,  get 
out !  " 

Miss  Charity,  though  called  upon  to  lend  her  aid,  sat  up- 
right in  one  corner,  with  a  smile  upon  her  face,  and  didn't 
move  a  finger.  Though  Mercy  laved  the  wound  herself  ;  and 
Mr.  Pecksniff  held  the  patient's  head  between  his  two  hands, 
as  if  without  that  assistance  it  must  inevitably  come  in  half  ; 
and  Tom  Pinch,  in  his  guilty  agitation,  shook  a  bottle  of 
Dutch  Drops  until  they  were  nothing  but  English  Froth,  and 
in  his  other  hand  sustained  a  formidable  carving-knife,"  really 
intended  to  reduce  the  swelling,  but  apparently  designed  for 
the  ruthless  infliction  of  another  wound  as  soon  as  that  was 
dressed  ;  Charity  rendered  not  the  least  assistance,  nor  uttered 
a  word.  But  when  Mr.  Jonas's  head  was  bound  up,  and  he 
had  gone  to  bed,  and  everybody  else  had  retired,  and  the 
house  was  quiet,  Mr.  Pinch,  as  he  sat  mournfully  on  his  bed- 
stead, ruminating,  heard  a  gentle  tap  at  his  door  ;  and  open- 
ing it,  saw  her,  to  his  great  astonishment,  standing  before  him 
with  her  finger  on  her  lip. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  she  whispered.  "  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  !  Tell 
me  the  truth  !  You  did  that  ?  There  was  some  quarrel  be- 
tween you,  and  you  struck  him  .''     I  am  sure  of  it  !  " 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  spoken  kindly  to  Tom, 
in  all  the  many  years  they  had  passed  together.  He  was 
stupefied  with  amazement. 

"  Was  it  so,  or  not  ?  "  she  eagerly  demanded. 

"  I  was  very  much  provoked,"   said  Tom. 

"  Then  it  was  ?  "  cried  Charity,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  Ye-yes.  We  had  a  struggle  for  the  path,"  said  Tom. 
"  But  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  him  so  much." 

"  Not  so  much !  "  she  repeated,  clenching  her  hand  and 
stamping  her  foot,  to  Tom's  great  wonder.  "  Don't  say  that. 
It  was  brave  of  you.  I  honor  you  for  it.  If  you  should  ever 
quarrel  again,  don't  spare  him  for  the  world,  but  beat  him 
down  and  set  your  shoe  upon  him.  Not  a  word  of  this  to 
anybody.  Dear  Mr.  Pinch,  I  am  your  friend  from  to-night. 
I  am  always  your  friend  from  tliis  time." 

She  turned  her  flushed  face  upon  Tom  to  confirm  her  words 
by  its  kindling  expression  ;  and  seizing  his  right  hand,  pressed 
it  to  her  breast,  and  kissed  it.     And   there  was  nothing  per 


398  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sonal  in  this  to  render  it  at  all  embarrassing,  for  even  Tom, 
whose  power  of  observation  was  by  no  means  remarkable, 
knew  from  the  energy  with  which  she  did  it  that  she  would 
have  fondled  any  hand,  no  matter  how  bedaubed  or  dyed,  that 
had  broken  the  head  of  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

Tom  went  into  his  room,  and  went  to  bed,  full  of  uncom- 
fortable thoughts.  That  there  should  be  any  such  tremendous 
division  in  the  family  as  he  knew  must  have  taken  place  to 
convert  Charity  Pecksniff  into  his  friend,  for  any  reason,  but, 
above  all,  for  that  which  was  clearly  the  real  one  ;  that  Jonas, 
who  had  assailed  him  with  such  exceeding  coarseness,  should 
have  been  sufficiently  magnanimous  to  keep  the  secret  of  their 
quarrel ;  and  that  any  train  of  circumstances  should  have  led 
to  the  commission  of  an  assault  and  battery  by  Thomas  Pinch 
upon  any  man  calling  himself  the  friend  of  Seth  Pecksniff ; 
were  matters  of  such  deep  and  painful  cogitation,  that  he 
could  not  close  his  eyes.  His  own  violence,  in  particular,  so 
preyed  upon  the  generous  mind  of  Tom,  that  coupling  it  with 
the  many  former  occasions  on  which  he  had  given  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff pain  and  anxiety  (occasions  of  which  that  gentleman 
often  reminded  him),  he  really  began  to  regard  himself  as 
destined  by  a  mysterious  fate  to  be  the  evil  genius  and  bad 
angel  of  his  patron.  But  he  fell  asleep  at  last,  and  dreamed 
— new  source  of  waking  uneasiness — that  he  had  betrayed  his 
trust,  and  run  away  with  Mary  Graham. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that,  asleep  or  awake,  Tom's 
position  in  reference  to  this  young  lady  was  full  of  uneasiness. 
The  more  he  saw  of  her,  the  more  fee  admired  her  beauty,  her 
intelligence,  the  amiable  qualities  that  even  won  on  the  divided 
house  of  Pecksniff,  and  in  a  few  days  restored  at  all  events  the 
semblance  of  harmony  and  kindness  between  the  angry 
sisters.  When  she  spoke,  Tom  held  his  breath,  so  eagerly  he 
listened ;  when  she  sang,  he  sat  like  one  entranced.  She 
touched  his  organ,  and  from  that  bright  epoch,  even  it,  the 
old  companion  of  his  happiest  hours,  incapable  as  he  had 
thought  of  elevation,  besfan  a  new  and  deified  existence. 

God's  love  upon  thy  patience,  Tom  !  Who,  that  had  be- 
held thee,  for  three  summer  weeks,  poring  through  half  the 
deadlong  night  over  the  jingling  anatomy  of  that  inscrutable 
old  harpsichord  in  the  back  parlor,  could  have  missed  the  en- 
trance to  thy  secret  heart,  albeit  it  was  dimly  known  to  thee  ? 
Who  that  had  seen  the  glow  upon  thy  cheek  when  leaning 
down  to  listen,  after  hours  of  labor,  for  the   sound  of  one  in- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  jgg 

corrigible  note,  thou  foundest  that  it  had  a  voice  at  last,  and 
wheezed  out  a  flat  something,  distantly  akin  to  what  it  ought 
to  be,  would  not  have  known  that  it  was  destined  for  no 
common  touch,  but  one  that  smote,  though  gently  as  an 
angel's  hand,  upon  the  deepest  chord  within  thee  !  And  if  a 
friendly  glance — ay,  even  though  it  were  as  guileless  as  thine 
own.  Dear  Tom— could  but  have  pierced  the  twilight  of  that 
evening,  when,  in  a  voice  well  tempered  to  the  time,  sad, 
sweet,  and  low,  yet  hopeful,  she  first  sang  to  the  altered  instru- 
ment, and  wondered  at  the  change  ;  and  thou,  sitting  apart  at 
the  open  window,  kept  a  glad  silence  and  a  swelling  heart : 
must  not  that  glance  have  read  perforce  the  dawning  of  a 
story,  Tom,  that^it  were  well  for  thee  had  ne\'er  been  begun  ! 

Tom  Pinch's  situation  was  not  made  the  less  dangerous  or 
difficult,  by  the  fact  of  no  one  word  passing  between  them  in 
reference  to  Martin.  Honorably  mindful  of  his  promise,  Tom 
gave  her  opportunities  of  all  kinds.  Early  and  late  he  was  in 
the  church,  in  her  favorite  walks,  in  the  village,  in  the  gar- 
den, in  the  meadows  ;  and  in  any  or  all  of  these  places  he 
might  have  spoken  freely.  But  no  :  at  all  such  times  she 
carefully  avoided  him,  or  never  came  in  his  way  unaccom- 
panied. It  could  not  be  that  she  disliked  or  distrusted  him, 
for  by  a  thousand  little  delicate  means,  too  slight  for  any  no- 
tice but  his  own,  she  singled  him  out  when  others  were 
present,  and  showed  herself  the  very  soul  of  kindness.  Could 
it  be  that  she  had  broken  with  Martin,  or  had  never  returned 
his  affection,  save  in  his  own  bold  and  heightened  fancy? 
Tom's  cheek  grew  red  with  self-reproach,  as  he  dismissed  the 
thought. 

All  this  time  old  Martin  came  and  went  in  his  own  strange 
manner,  or  sat  among  the  rest  absorbed  within  himself,  and 
holding  little  intercourse  with  any  one.  Although  he  was  un- 
social, he  was  not  wilful  in  other  things,  or  troublesome,  or 
morose,  being  never  better  pleased  than  when  they  left  him 
quite  unnoticed  at  his  book,  and  pursued  their  own  amuse- 
ments in  his  presence,  unreserved.  It  was  impossible  to 
discern  in  whom  he  took  an  interest,  or  whether  he  had  aw 
interest  in  any  of  them.  Unless  they  spoke  to  him  directly, 
he  never  showed  that  he  had  ears  or  eyes  for  an)'thing  that 
passed. 

One  day  the  lively  Merry,  silting  with  downcast  eyes  under 
a  shady  tree  in  the  churchyard,  whither  she  had  retired  after 
fatiguing  herself  by  the   imposition  of  sundry  trials  on  the 


^oo  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWn. 

temper  of  Mr.  Jonas,  felt  that  a  new  shadow  came  between 
her  and  the  sun.  Raising  her  eyes  in  the  expectation  of  see- 
ing her  betrothed,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  old 
Martin  instead.  Her  surprise  was  not  diminished  when  he 
took  his  seat  upon  the  turf  beside  her,  and  opened  a  conver- 
sation thus : 

"  When  are  you  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  goodness  me  !  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know.     Not  yet  awhile,  I  hope." 

"  You  hope  ?  "  said  the  old  man. 

It  was  very  gravely  said,  but  she  took  it  for  banter,  and 
giggled  excessively. 

"  Come  !  "  said  the  old  man,  with  unusual  kindness,  "  you 
are  young,  good-looking,  and  I  think  good-natured  !  Frivol- 
ous you  are,  and  love  to  be,  undoubtedly  \  but  you  must  have 
some  heart." 

"  I  have  not  given  it  all  away,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Merry, 
nodding  her  head  shrewdly,  and  plucking  up  the  grass. 

"  Have  you  parted  with  any  of  it  ?  " 

She  threw  the  grass  about,  and  looked  another  way,  but 
said  nothing. 

Martin  repeated  his  question. 

"  Lor,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  really  you  must  excuse 
me  !     How  \'ery  odd  you  are." 

"  If  it  be  odd  in  me  to  desire  to  know  whether  you  love 
the  young  man  whom  I  understand  you  are  to  marr}',  I  am 
very  odd,"  said  Martin.     "  For  that  is  certainly  my  wish." 

"  He's  such  a  monster,  you  know,"  said  Merr}-,  pouting. 

"  Then  you  don't  love  him  ?  "  returned  the  old  man.  "  Is 
that  your  meaning  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I'm  sure  I  tell  him  a 
hundred  times  a-day  that  I  hate  him.  You  must  have  heard 
me  tell  him  that." 

"  Often,"  said  Martin. 

"  And  so  I  do,"  cried  Merry.     "  I  do  positively." 

"  Being  at  the  same  time  engaged  to  many  him,"  observed 
the  old  man. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Merry.  "  But  I  told  the  wretch — my  dear 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  told  him  when  he  asked  me — that  if  I  ever 
did  marr}'-  him,  it  should  only  be  that  I  might  hate  and  teaze 
him  all  my  life." 

She  had  a  suspicion  that  the  old  man  regarded  Jonas  with 
anything  but  favor,   and  intended  these  remarks  to  be  ex- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


401 


tremely  captivating.  He  did  not  appear,  however,  to  regard 
them  in  that  light  by  any  means  ;  for  when  he  spoke  again,  it 
was  in  a  tone  of  severity. 

"  Look  about  you,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  graves  ;  "  and 
remember  that  from  }our  bridal  hour  to  the  day  which  sees 
you  brought  as  low  as  these,  and  laid  in  such  a  bed,  there  will 
be  no  appeal  against  him.  Think,  and  speak,  and  act,  for 
once,  like  an  accountable  creature.  Is  any  control  put  upon 
your  inclinations  ?  Are  you  forced  into  this  match  ?  Are 
you  insidiously  advised  or  tempted  to  contract  it,  by  any  one  .'' 
I  will  not  ask  by  whom.     By  any  one  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Merry,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "I  don't 
know  that  I  am.'^ 

"  Don't  know  that  you  are  !     Are  you  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  INIerry.  "  Nobody  ever  said  anything  to 
me  about  it.  If  any  one  had  tried  to  make  me  have  him,  I 
wouldn't  have  had  him  at  all." 

"  I  am  told  that  he  was  at  first  supposed  to  be  your  sister's 
admirer,"  said  Martin. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  !  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  it  would 
be  very  hard  to  make  him,  though  he  is  a  monster,  account- 
able for  other  people's  vanity,"  said  Merr}'.  "  And  poor  dear 
Cherry  is  the  vainest  darling  !  " 

"  It  was  her  mistake,  then  ? " 

"I  hope  it  was,"  cried  Merry  ;  "but,  all  along,  the  dear 
child  had  been  so  dreadfully  jealous,  and  so  cross,  that,  upon 
my  word  and  honor,  it's  impossible  to  please  her,  and  it's  of 
no  use  trying." 

"Not  forced,  persuaded,  or  controlled,"  said  Martin, 
thoughtfully.  "  And  that's  true,  I  see.  There  is  one  chance 
yet.  You  may  have  lapsed  into  this  engagement  in  very 
giddiness.  It  may  have  been  the  wanton  act  of  a  light  head. 
Is  that  so  ?  " 

"My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  simpered  Merry,  "as  to  light- 
headedness, there  never  was  such  a  feather  of  a  head  as 
mine.  It's  a  perfect  balloon,  I  declare  !  You  never  did,  you 
know  !  " 

He  waited  quietly  till  she  had  finished,  and  then  said, 
steadily  and  slowly,  and  in  a  softened  voice,  as  if  he  would  still 
invite  her  confidence  : 

"  Have  you  any  wish — or  is  there  anything  within  your 
breast  that  whispers  you  may  form  the  wish,  if  you  have  time 
to  think — to  be  released  from  this  engagement .''  " 

26 


402 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Again  Miss  Merry  pouted,  and  looked  down,  and  plucked 
the  grass,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  No.  She  didn't  know 
that  she  had.  She  was  pretty  sure  she  hadn't.  Quite  sure, 
she  might  say.     She  "  didn't  mind  it." 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,"  said  Martin,  "that  your 
married  life  may  perhaps  be  miserable,  full  of  bitterness,  and 
most  unhappy  ?  " 

Merry  looked  down  again  :  and  now  she  tore  the  grass  up 
by  the  roots. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  what  shocking  words  !  Of 
course,  I  shall  quarrel  with  him.  I  should  quarrel  with  any 
husband.  Married  people  always  quarrel,  I  believe.  But  as 
to  being  miserable,  and  bitter,  and  all  those  dreadful  things, 
you  know,  why  I  couldn't  be  absolutely  that,  unless  he  always 
had  the  best  of  it  ;  and  I  mean  to  have  the  best  of  it  myself. 
I  always  do  now,"  cried  Merry,  nodding  her  head  and  giggling 
very  much  ;  "  for  I  make  a  perfect  slave  of  the  creature." 

"  Let  it  go  on,"  said  Martin,  rising.  "Let  it  go  on  !  I 
sought  to  know  your  mind,  my  dear,  and  you  have  shown  it 
me.  I  wish  you  joy.  Joy  !  "  he  repeated,  looking  full  upon 
her,  and  pointing  to  the  wicket-gate  where  Jonas  entered  at 
the  moment.  And  then,  without  waiting  for  his  nephew,  he 
passed  out  at  another  gate,  and  went  away. 

"  Oh  you  terrible  old  man  !  "  cried  the  facetious  Merry  to 
herself.  "  What  a  perfectly  hideous  monster  to  be  wandering 
about  churchyards  in  the  broad  daylight,  frightening  people 
out  of  their  wits!  Don't  come  here,  Griffin,  or  I'll  go  away 
directly." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  the  Griffin.  He  sat  down  upon  the  grass 
at  her  side,  in  spite  of  this  warning,  and  sulkily  inquired : 

"  What's  my  uncle  been  a  talking  about  ?  " 

"About  you,"  rejoined  Merr}-.  "  He  says  you're  not  half 
good  enough  for  me." 

"Oh  yes,  I  dare  say!  We  all  know  that.  •  He  means  to 
give  yovt  some  present  worth  having,  I  hope.  Did  he  say  any- 
thing that  looked  like  it  ?  " 

"  T/iathQ  didn't  !  "  cried  Merry,  most  decisively. 

"  A  stingy  old  dog  he  is,"  said  Jonas.     "  Well  ?  " 

"  Griffin  !  "  cried  Miss  Mercy,  in  counterfeit  amazement ; 
"  what  are  you  doing.  Griffin  ?  " 

"  Only  giving  you  a  squeeze,"  said  the  discomfited  Jonas. 
"  There's  no  harm  in  that,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  harm  in  it,  if  I  don't  consider 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


403 


it  agreeable,"  returned  his  cousin.     "  Do  go   along,  will  you  ? 
You  make  me  so  hot !  " 

Mr.  Jonas  withdrew  his  arm  ;  and  for  a  moment  looked  at 
her  more  like  a  murderer  than  a  lover.  But  he  cleared  his 
brow  by  degrees,  and  broke  silence  with  : 

"  I  say,  Mel !  " 

"  What  do  you  say,  you  vulgar  thing,  you  low  savage  ?  " 
cried  his  fair  betrothed. 

"When  is  it  to  be.''  I  can't  afford  to  go  on  dawdling 
about  here  half  my  life,  I  needn't  tell  you,  and  Pecksniff  says 
that  father's  being  so  lately  dead  makes  very  little  odds  ;  for 
we  can  be  marcied  as  quiet  as  we  please  down  here,  and  my 
being  lonely  is  a  good  reason  to  the  neighbors  for  taking  a 
wife  home  so  soon,  especially  one  that  he  knew.  As  to  cross- 
bones  (my  uncle,  I  mean),  he's  sure  not  to  put  a  spoke  in  the 
wheel,  whatever  we  settle  on,  for  he  told  Pecksniff  only  this 
morning,  that  if  you  liked  it,  he'd  nothing  at  all  to  say.  So, 
Mel,"  said  Jonas,  venturing  on  another  squeeze;  "when 
shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Merry. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  if  you  like,"  said  Jonas.  "  What  do  you 
say  to  next  week,  now  ?  " 

"  To  next  week  !  If  you  had  said  next  quarter,  I  should 
have  wondered  at  your  impudence." 

"  But  I  didn't  say  next  quarter,"  retorted  Jonas.  "  I  said 
next  week." 

"Then,  Griffin,"  cried  Miss  Merry,  pushing  him  off,  and 
rising.  "  I  say  no  !  not  next  week.  It  shan't  be  till  1  choose, 
and  I  may  not  choose  it  to  be  for  months.     There  !  " 

He  glanced  up  at  her  from  the  ground,  almost  as  darkly 
as  he  had  looked  at  Tom  Pinch  \  but  held  his  peace. 

"  No  fright  of  a  Griffin  with  a  patch  over  his  eye,  shall 
dictate  to  me,  or  have  a  voice  in  the  matter,"  said  Merry. 
"  There !  " 

Still  Mr.  Jonas  held  his  peace. 

"  If  it's  next  month,  that  shall  be  the  very  earliest ;  but  I 
won't  say  when  it  shall  be  till  to-morrow  ;  and  if  you  don't 
like  that,  it  shall  never  be  at  all,"  said  Merry;  "and  if  you 
follow  me  about  and  won't  leave  me  alone,  it  shall  never  be 
at  all.  There  !  And  if  you  don't  do  ever}'thing  I  order  you 
to  do,  it  shall  never  be  at  all.  So  don't  follow  me.  There, 
Griffin  !  " 

And  with  that,  she  skipped  away  among  the  trees. 


404 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Ecod,  my  lady  !  "  said  Jonas,  looking  after  her,  and  bit- 
ing a  piece  of  straw,  almost  to  powder ;  "  you'll  catch  it  for 
this,  when  you  are  married  !  It's  all  very  well  now — it  keeps 
one  on,  somehow,  and  you  know  it — but  I'll  pay  you  off  scot 
and  lot  by  and  by.  This  is  a  plaguy  dull  sort  of  a  place  for 
a  man  to  be  sitting  by  himself  in.  I  never  could  abide  a 
mouldy  old  churchyard." 

As  he  turned  into  the  avenue  himself,  Miss  Merry,  who 
was  far  ahead,  happened  to  look  back. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Jonas,  with  a  sullen  smile,  and  a  nod  that 
was  not  addressed  to  her.  "  Make  the  most  of  it  while  it 
lasts.  Get  in  your  hay  while  the  sun  shines.  Take  your  own 
way  as  long  as  it's  in  your  power,  my  lady  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


IS  IN  PART  PROFESSIONAL  ;  AND  FURNISHES  THE  READER 
WITH  SOME  VALUABLE  HINTS  IN  RELATION  TO  THE 
MANAGEMENT    OF    A    SICK    CHAMBER. 

Mr.  Mould  was  surrounded  by  his  household  gods.  He 
was  enjoying  the  sweets  of  domestic  repose,  and  gazing  on 
them  with  a  calm  delight.  The  day  being  sultry,  and  the 
window  open,  the  legs  of  Mr.  Mould  were  on  the  window-seat 
and  his  back  reclined  against  the  shutter.  Over  his  shining 
head  a  handkerchief  was  drawn,  to  guard  his  baldness  from 
the  flies.  The  room  was  fragrant  with  the  smell  of  punch,  a 
tumbler  of  which  grateful  compound  stood  upon  a  small 
round  table,  convenient  to  the  hand  of  Mr.  Mould  ;  so  deftly 
mixed,  that  as  his  eye  looked  down  into  the  cool  transparent 
drink,  another  eye,  peering  brightly  from  behind  the  crisp 
lemon-peel,  looked  up  at  him,  and  twinkled  like  a  star. 

Deep  in  the  City,  and  within  the  ward  of  ■  Cheap,  stood 
Mr.  .Mould's  establishment.  His  Harem,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  common  sitting-room  of  Mrs.  Mould  and  family,  was  at 
the  back,  over  the  little  counting-house  behind  the  shop  ;  abut- 
ting on  a  churchyard  small  and  shady.  In  this  domestic 
chamber  Mr.  Mould  now  sat ;  gazing,  a  placid  man,  upon  his 
punch  and  home.  If  for  a  moment  at  a  time,  he  sought  a 
wider  prospect,  whence  he  might  return  with  freshened  zest 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


405 


to  these  enjoyments,  his  moist  glance  wandered  Uke  a  sun- 
beam through  a  rural  screen  of  scarlet  runners,  trained  on 
strings  before  the  window ;  and  he  looked  down,  with  an 
artist's  eye,  upon  the  graves. 

The  partner  of  his  life,  and  daughters  twain,  were  Mr. 
Mould's  companions.  Plump  as  any  partridge  was  each  Miss 
Mould,  and  Mrs.  M.  was  plumper  than  the  two  together.  So 
round  and  chubby  were  their  fair  proportions,  that  they  might 
have  been  the  bodies  once  belonging  to  the  angels'  faces  in 
the  shop  below,  grown  up,  with  other  heads  attached  to  make 
them  mortal.  Even  their  peachy  cheeks  were  puffed  out  and 
distended,  as  though  they  ought  of  right  to  be  performing  on 
celestial  trumpets.  The  bodiless  cherubs  in  the  shop,  who 
were  depicted  as  constantly  blowing  those  instruments  for 
ever  and  ever  without  any  lungs,  played,  it  is  to  be  presumed, 
entirely  by  ear. 

Mr.  Mould  looked  lovingly  at  Mrs.  Mould,  who  sat  hard 
by,  and  was  a  helpmate  to  him  in  his  punch  as  in  all  other 
things.  Each  seraph  daughter,  too,  enjoyed  her  share  of  his 
regards,  and  smiled  upon  him  in  return.  So  bountiful  were 
Mr.  Mould's  possessions,  and  so  large  his  stock  in  trade,  that 
even  there,  within  his  household  sanctuar)-,  stood  a  cumbrous 
press,  whose  mahogany  maw  was  filled  with  shrouds,  and 
winding-sheets,  and  other  furniture  of  funerals.  ]]ut,  though 
the  Misses  Mould  had  been  brought  up,  as  one  may  say, 
beneath  his  eye,  it  had  cast  no  shadow  on  their  timid  infancy 
or  blooming  youth.  Sporting  behind  the  scenes  of  death  and 
burial  from  cradlehood,  the  Misses  Mould  knew  better.  Hat- 
bands, to  them,  were  but  so  many  yards  of  silk  or  crape  ;  the 
final  robe  but  such  a  quantity  of  linen.  The  Misses  Mould 
could  idealize  a  player's  habit,  or  a  court-lady's  petticoat,  or 
even  an  act  of  parliament.  But  they  were  not  to  be  taken  in 
by  palls.     They  made  them  sometimes. 

The  premises  of  Mr.  Mould  were  hard  of  hearing  to  the 
boisterous  noises  in  the  great  main  streets,  and  nestled  in  a 
quiet  corner,  where  the  City  strife  became  a  drowsy  hum,  that 
sometimes  rose  and  sometimes  fell  and  sometimes  altogether 
ceased  ;  suggesting  to  a  thoughtful  mind  a  stoppage  in  Cheap- 
side.  The  light  came  sparkling  in  among  the  scarlet  runners, 
as  if  the  chur«hyard  winked  at  Mr.  Mould,  and  said,  "  We 
understand  each  other  ;  "  and  from  the  distant  shop  a  pleasant 
sound  arose  of  coffin-making  with  a  low  melodious  hammer, 
rat,  tat,  tat,  tat,  alike  promoting  slumber  and  digestion. 


4o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Quite  the  buzz  of  insects,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  closing  his 
eyes  in  a  perfect  luxury.  "It  puts  one  in  mind  of  the  sound 
of  animated  nature  in  the  agricultural  districts.  It's  exactly 
like  the  woodpecker  tapping." 

"  The  woodpecker  tapping  the  hollow  elm  tree,"  observed 
Mrs.  Mould,  adapting  the  words  of  the  popular  melody  to  the 
description  of  wood  commonly  used  in  the  trade. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Mould.  "  Not  at  all  bad,  my 
dear.  We  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  again,  Mrs.  M. 
Hollow  elm  tree,  eh  ?  Ha,  ha !  Very  good  indeed.  I've 
seen  worse  than  that  in  the  Sunday  papers,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Mould,  thus  encouraged,  took  a  little  more  of  the 
punch,  and  handed  it  to  her  daughters,  who  dutifully  followed 
the  example  of  their  mother. 

"  Hollow  elm  tree,  eh .-'  "  said  Mr.  Mould,  making  a  slight 
motion  with  his  legs  in  his  enjoyment  of  the  joke.  "  It's  beech 
in  the  song.  Elm,  eh  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Upon 
my  soul,  that's  one  of  the  best  things  I  know  !  "  He  was  so 
excessively  tickled  by  the  jest  that  he  couldn't  forget  it,  but 
repeated  twenty  times,  "  Elm,  eh  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Elm,  of 
course.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Upon  my  life,  you  know,  that  ought  to 
be  sent  to  somebody  who  could  make  use  of  it.  It's  one  of 
the  smartest  things  that  ever  was  said.  Hollow  elm  tree,  eh  ? 
Of  course.     Very  hollow.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Here  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  room  door. 

"That's  Tacker,  /  know,"  said  Mrs.  Mould,  "by  the 
wheezing  he  makes.  Who  that  hears  him  now,  would  sup- 
pose he'd  ever  had  wind  enough  to  carry  the  feathers  on  his 
head  !     Come  in,  Tacker." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  Tacker,  looking  in  a  little 
way.     "  I  thought  our  Governor  was  here." 

"  Well !  so  he  is,"  cried  Mould. 

"  Oh  !  I  didn't  see  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tacker,  looking  in 
a  little  farther.  "  You  wouldn't  be  inclined  to  take  a  walking 
one  of  two,  with  the  plain  wood  and  a  tin  plate,  I  suppose  .?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  "  much  too  common. 
Nothing  to  say  to  it." 

"  I  told  'em  it  was  precious  low,"  observed  Mr.  Tacker. 

"  Tell  'em  to  go  somewhere  else.  We  don't  do  that  style 
of  business  here,"  said  Mr.  Mould.  "  Like  tJieir  impudence 
to  propose  it.     Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,"  returned  Tacker,  pausing,  "  that's  where  it  is, 
you  see.     It's  the  beadle's  son-in-law." 


MA R  TIN-  CHUZZLE  WIT.  407 

•'  The  beadle's  son-in-law,  eh  ?  "  said  Mould.  "  Well !  I'll 
do  it  if  the  beadle  follows  in  his  cocked  hat  ;  not  else.  We 
carry  it  off  that  way,  by  looking  official,  but  it'll  be  low  enough 
then.     His  cocked  hat,  mind  !  " 

"I'll  take  care,  sir,"  rejoined  Tacker.  "Oh!  Mrs. 
Gamp's  below,  and  wants  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Tell  Mrs.  Gamp  to  come  up  stairs,"  said  Mould.  "  Now, 
Mrs.  Gamp,  what's  your  news  .''  " 

The  lady  in  question  was  by  this  time  in  the  doorway, 
curtseying  to  Mrs.  Mould.  At  the  same  moment  a  peculiar 
fragrance  was  borne  upon  the  breeze,  as  if  a  passing  fairy 
had  hiccoughed,  and  had  previously  been  to  a  wine-vault. 

Mrs.  Gamp  made  no  response  to  Mr.  Mould,  but  curtseyed 
to  Mrs.  Mould  again,  and  held  up  her  hands  and  eyes,  as  in  a 
devout  thanksgiving  that  she  looked  so  well.  She  was  neatly, 
but  not  gaudily  attired,  in  the  weeds  she  had  worn  when  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  the  pleasure  of  making  her  acquaintance ;  and 
was  perhaps  the  turning  of  a  scale  more  snuffy. 

"  There  are  some  happy  creeturs,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed, 
"  as  time  runs  back'ards  with,  and  you  are  one,  Mrs.  Mould ; 
not  that  he  need  do  nothing  except  use  you  in  his  most 
owldacious  way  for  years  to  come,  I'm  sure;  for  young  you 
are  and  will  be.  I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris,"  Mrs.  Gamp  con- 
tinued, "  only  t'other  day  ;  the  last  Monday  evening  fortnight 
as  ever  dawned  upon  this  Piljian's  Projiss  of  a  mortal  wale  ;  I 
says  to  Mrs.  Harris  when  she  says  to  me,  '  Years  and  our 
trials,  Mrs.  Gamp,  sets  marks  upon  us  all.' — '  Say  not  the 
words,  Mrs.  Harris,  if  you  and  me  is  to  be  continual  friends, 
for  sech  is  not  the  case.  Mrs.  Mould,'  I  says,  making  so 
free,  I  will  confess,  as  use  the  name,"  (she  curtseyed  here), 
"'is  one  of  them  that  goes  agen  the  obserwation  straight; 
and  never,  Mrs.  Harris,  whilst  I've  a  drop  of  breath  to  draw, 
will  I  set  by,  and  not  stand  up,  don't  think  it.' — '  I  ast  your 
pardon,  ma'am,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  '  and  I  humbly  grant  your 
grace  ;  for  if  ever  a  woman  lived  as  would  see  lier  feller  creeturs 
into  fits  to  serve  her  friends,  well  do  I  know  that  woman's 
name  is  Sairey  Gamp.'  " 

At  this  point  she  was  fain  to  stop  for  breath  ;  and  advan- 
tage may  be  taken  of  the  circumstance,  to  state  that  a  fearful 
mystery  surrounded  this  lady  of  the  name  of  Harris,  whom  no 
one  in  the  circle  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  acquaintance  had  ever  seen ; 
neither  did  any  human  being  know  her  place  of  residence, 
though  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared  on  her  own  showing  to  be  in 


4oS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

constant  communication  with  her.  There  were  conflicting 
rumors  on  the  subject;  but  the  prevalent  opinion  was  that  she 
was  a  phantom  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  brain — as  Messrs.  Doe  and 
Roe  are  fictions  of  the  law — created  for  the  express  purpose 
of  holding  visionar}^  dialogues  with  her  on  all  manner  of  sub- 
jects, and  invariably  winding  up  with  a  compliment  to  the  ex- 
cellence of  her  nature. 

"  And  likeways  what  a  pleasure,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  turning 
with  a  tearful  smile  towards  the  daughters,  "to  see  them  two 
young  ladies  as  I  know'd  afore  a  tooth  in  their  pretty  heads 
was  cut,  and  have  many  a  day  seen — ah,  the  sweet  creeturs ! — 
playing  at  berryins  down  in  the  shop,  and  follerin'  the  order- 
book  to  its  long  home  in  the  iron  safe  !  But  that's  all  past 
and  over,  Mr.  Mould ; "  as  she  thus  got  in  a  carefully  regu- 
lated routine  to  that  gentleman,  she  shook  head  waggishly ; 
"  That's  all  past  and  over  now,  sir,  an't  it  ?  " 

"  Changes,  Mrs.  Gamp,  changes  !  "  returned  the  under- 
taker. 

"  More  changes  too,  to  come,  afore  we've  done  with  changes, 
sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  nodding  yet  more  waggishly  than  before. 
"  Young  ladies  with  such  faces  thinks  of  something  else  besides 
berryins,  don't  they,  sir?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Mould,  with 
a  chuckle. — "  Not  bad  in  Mrs.  Gamp,  my  dear.? " 

"Oh  yes,  you  do  know,  sir!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "and  so 
does  Mrs.  Mould,  your  ansome  pardner  too,  sir ;  and  so  do  I, 
although  the  blessing  of  a  daughter  was  deniged  me  ;  which,  if 
we  had  had  one.  Gamp  would  certainly  have  drunk  its  little 
shoes  right  off  its  feet,  as  with  our  precious  boy  he  did,  and 
arterwards  send  the  child  a  errand  to  sell  his  wooden  leg  for 
any  money  it  would  fetch  as  matches  in  the  rough,  and  bring 
it  home  in  liquor  :  which  was  truly  done  beyond  his  years,  for 
ev'ry  individgle  penny  that  child  lost  at  toss  or  buy  for  kidney 
ones ;  and  come  I.ome  arterwards  quite  bold,  to  break  the 
news,  and  offering  to  drown  himself  if  that  would  be  a  satis- 
faction to  his  parents. — Oh  yes,  you  do  know,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  wiping  her  eye  with  her  shawl,  and  resuming  the  thread 
of  her  discourse.  "  There's  something  besides  births  and 
berr}'ins  in  the  newspapers,  an't  there,  Mr.  Mould  ? " 

Mr.  Mould  winked  at  Mrs.  Mould;  whom  he  had  by  this 
time  taken  on  his  knee,  and  said  :  "  No  doubt.  A  good  deal 
more,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Upon  my  life,  Mrs.  Gamp  is  very  far  from 
bad,  my  dear  !  " 


MARTIX  CHUZZLEWIT.  409 

"There's  marr}dngs,  an't  there,  sir  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  while 
both  the  daughters  blushed  and  tittered.  "  Bless  their  pre- 
cious hearts,  and  well  they  knows  it !  Well  you  know'd  it  too, 
and  well  did  Mrs,  Mould,  when  you  was  at  their  time  of  life  ! 
But  my  opinion  is,  you're  all  of  one  age  now.  For  as  to  you 
and  Mrs.  Mould,  sir,  ever  having  grand-children — " 

"  Oh  !  Fie,  fie  !  Nonsense,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  replied  the  under- 
taker. "  Devilish  smart,  though.  Ca-pi-tal  !  "  This  was  in  a 
whisper.  "  INIy  dear — "  aloud  again — "Mrs.  Gamp  can  drink 
a  glass  of  rum,  I  dare  say.     Sit  down,  Mrs.  Gamp,  sit  down." 

Mrs.  Gamp  took  the  chair  that  was  nearest  the  door,  and 
casting  up  her  eyes  towards  the  ceiling,  feigned  to  be  wholly 
insensible  to  the  fact  of  a  glass  of  rum  being  in  preparation, 
until  it  was  placed  in  her  hand  by  one  of  the  young  ladies, 
when  she  exhibited  the  greatest  surprise. 

"A  thing,"  she  said,  "as  hardly  ever,  Mrs.  Mould,  occurs 
with  me  unless  it  is  when  I  am  indispoged,  and  find  my 
half  a  pint  of  porter  settling  heavy  on  the  chest.  Mrs.  Harris 
often  and  often  says  to  me,  '  Sairey  Gamp,"  she  says,  '  you 
raly  do  amaze  me  !  '  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  '  why  so  ? 
Give  it  a  name,  I  beg.'  '  Telling  the  truth  then,  ma'am,'  says 
Mrs.  Harris,  '  and  shaming  him  as  shall  be  nameless  betwixt 
3^ou  and  me,  never  did  I  think  till  I  know'd  you.  as  any  woman 
could  sick-nurse  and  monthly  likeways,  on  the  little  that  you 
takes  to  drink.'  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  '  none  on  us 
knows  what  we  can  do  till  we  tries  ;  and  wunst,  when  me  and 
Gamp  kept  ouse,  I  thought  so  too.  But  now,'  I  says,  '  my 
half  a  pint  of  porter  fully  satisfies  ;  perwisin',  Mrs.  Harris, 
that  it  is  brought  reg'lar,  and  draw'd  mild.  Whether  I  sicks 
or  monthlies,  ma'am,  I  hope  I  does  my  duty,  but  I  am  but  a 
poor  woman,  and  I  earns  my  living  hard  ;  therefore  I  do  re- 
quire it,  which  I  makes  confession,  to  be  brought  reg'lar  and 
draw'd  mild.'  " 

The  precise  connection  between  these  observations  and 
the  glass  of  rum,  did  not  appear  ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp  proposing 
as  a  toast  "  The  best  of  lucks  to  all  !  "  took  off  the  dram  in 
quite  a  scientiffc  manner,  without  any  further  remarks. 

"  And  what's  your  news,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  "  asked  Mould  again, 
as  that  lady  wiped  her  lips  upon  her  shawl,  and  nibbled  a 
corner  off  a  soft  biscuit,  which  she  appeared  to  carry  in  her 
pocket  as  a  provision  against  contingent  drams.  "  How's  Mr. 
Chuffey  ? " 

"Mr.  Chuffey,  sir,"'  she  replied,  "  is  jest  as  usual ;  he  an't 


41  o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

no  better  and  he  an't  no  worse.  I  take  it  very  kind  in  the 
gentleman  to  have  wrote  up  to  you  and  said,  '  let  Mrs.  Gamp 
take  care  of  him  till  I  come  home  ; '  but  ev'ry  think  he  does  is 
kind.  There  an't  a  many  like  him.  If  there  was,  we  shouldn't 
want  no  churches." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  speak  to  me  about,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  " 
said  Mould,  coming  to  the  point. 

"Jest  this,  sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  returned,  "  with  thanks  to  you 
for  asking.  There  is  a  gent,  sir,  at  the  Bull  in  Holborn,  as 
has  been  took  ill  there,  and  is  bad  abed.  They  have  a  day 
nurse  as  was  recommended  from  Bartholomew's  ;  and  well  I 
knows  her,  Mr.  Mould,  her  name  bein'  Mrs.  Prig,  the  best  of 
creeturs.  But  she  is  othervvays  engaged  at  night,  and  they  are 
in  wants  of  night-watching  ;  consequent  she  says  to  them, 
having  reposed  the  greatest  friendliness  in  me  for  twenty  year, 
'  The  soberest  person  going,  and  the  best  of  blessings  in  a 
sick  room,  is  Mrs.  Gamp.  Send  a  boy  to  Kingsgate  Street,' 
she  says,  '  and  snap  her  up  at  any  price,  for  Mrs.  Gamp  is 
worth  her  weight  and  more  in  goldian  guineas.'  My  landlord 
brings  the  message  down  to  me,  and  says,  '  bein'  in  a  light 
place  where  you  are,  and  this  job  promising  so  well,  why  not 
unite  the  two  ? '  'No  sir,'  I  says,  'not  unbeknown  to  Mr. 
Mould,  and  therefore  do  not  think  it.  But  I  will  go  to  Mr. 
Mould,'  I  says,  '  and  ast  him,  if  you  like.'  "  Here  she  looked 
sideways  at  the  undertaker,  and  came  to  a  slop. 

"  Night-watching,  eh?"  said  Mould,  rubbing  his  chin. 

"  From  eight  o'clock  till  eight,  sir.  I  will  not  deceive 
you,"  Mrs.  Gamp  rejoined. 

"  And  then  go  back,  eh  ?  "  said  Mould. 

"Quite  free  "then,  sir,  to  attend  to  Mr.  Chuffey.  His  ways 
bein'  quiet,  and  his  hours  early,  he'd  be  abed,  sir,  nearly  all 
the  time.  I  will  not  deny,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  with  meekness, 
"  that  I  am  but  a  poor  woman,  and  that  the  money  is  a  object ; 
but  do  not  let  that  act  upon  you,  Mr.  Mould.  Rich  folks  may 
ride  on  camels,  but  it  ain't  so  easy  for  'em  to  see  out  of  a 
needle's  eye.     That  is  my  comfort,  and  I  hope  I  knows  it." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Gamp,"'  observed  Mould,  "  I  don't  see  any 
particular  objection  to  your  earning  an  honest  penny  under  such 
circumstances.  I  should  keep  it  quiet,  I  think,  Mrs.  Gamp.  I 
wouldn't  mention  it  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  on  his  return,  for  in- 
stance, unless  it  were  necessary,  or  he  asked  you  point-blank." 

"  The  very  words  was  on  my  lips,  sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  rejoined. 
"  Suppoging  that  the  gent  should  die,  I  hope  I  might  take  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  411 

liberty  of  saying  as  I  knowed  some  one  in  the  undertaking 
line,  and  yet  give  no  offence  to  you,  sir  ? " 

"  Certainly,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Mould,  with  much  conde- 
scension. "  You  may  casually  remark,  in  such  a  case,  that  we 
do  the  thing  pleasantly  and  in  a  great  variety  of  styles,  and 
are  generally  considered  to  make  it  as  agreeable  as  possible 
to  the  feelings  of  the  survivors.  But  don't  obtrude  it,  don't 
obtrude  it.  Easy,  easy  !  My  dear,  you  may  as  well  give 
Mrs.  Gamp  a  card  or  two,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Gamp  received  them,  and  scenting  no  more  rum  in 
the  wind  (for  the  bottle  was  locked  up  again)  rose  to  take  her 
departure. 

"Wishing  ev'r}^  happiness  to  this  happy  family,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  "  with  all  my  heart.  Good  arternoon,  Mrs.  Mould  ! 
If  I  was  Mr.  Mould,  I  should  be  jealous  of  you,  ma'am ; 
and  I'm  sure,  if  I  was  you,  I  should  be  jealous  of  Mr.  Mould." 

"  Tut,  tut  !  Bah,  bah  !  Go  along,  Mrs.  Gamp  !  "  cried 
the  delighted  undertaker. 

"  As  to  the  young  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  a 
curtsey,  "  bless  their  sweet  looks — how  they  can  ever  recon- 
size  it  with  their  duties  to  be  so  grown  up  wdth  such  young 
parents,  it  an't  for  sech  as  me  to  give  a  guess  at." 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense.  Be  off,  Mrs.  Gamp ! "  cried 
Mould.  But  in  the  height  of  his  gratification,  he  actually 
pinched  Mrs.  Mould,  as  he  said  it. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  dear,"  he  observed,  when  Mrs. 
Gamp  had  at  last  withdrawn,  and  shut  the  door,  "  that's  a 
ve-ry  shrewd  woman.  That's  a  woman  whose  intellect  is  im- 
mensely superior  to  her  station  in  life.  That's  a  woman  who 
observes  and  retiects  in  an  uncommon  manner.  She's  the 
sort  of  woman  now,"  said  Mould,  drawing  his  silk  handker- 
chief over  his  head  again,  and  composing  himself  for  a  nap, 
"  one  would  almost  feel  disposed  to  buiy  for  nothing :  and  do 
it  neatly,  too  !  " 

Mrs.  Mould  and  her  daughters  fully  concurred  in  these 
remarks;  the  subject  of  which  had  by  this  time  reached  the 
street,  where  she  experienced  so  much  inconvenience  from 
the  air,  that  she  was  obliged  to  stand  under  an  archway  for  a 
short  time,  to  reco\er  herself.  Even  after  this  precaution,  she 
walked  so  unsteadily  as  to  attract  the  compassionate  regards 
of  divers  kind-hearted  boys,  who  took  the  liveliest  interest  in 
her  disorder  ;  and  in  their  simple  language,  bade  her  be  of 
good  cheer,  for  she  was,  "  only  a  little  screwed." 


412  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

Whatever  she  was,  or  whatever  name  the  vocabulary  of 
medical  science  would  have  bestowed  upon  her  malady,  Mrs. 
Gamp  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  way  home  again  ; 
and  arriving  at  the  house  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  &  Son,  lay 
down  to  rest.  Remaining  there  until  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  and  then  persuading  poor  old  Chuffey  to  betake  him- 
self to  bed,  she  sallied  forth  upon  her  new  engagement.  First, 
she  went  to  her  private  lodgings  in  Kingsgate  Street,  for  a 
bundle  of  robes  and  wrappings  comfortable  in  the  night 
season  ;  and  then  repaired  to  the  Bull  in  Holborn,  which  she 
reached  as  the  clocks  were  striking  eight. 

As  she  turned  into  the  yard,  she  stopped  ;  for  the  land- 
lord, landlady,  and  head  chambermaid,  were  all  on  the  thresh- 
old together,  talking  earnestly  with  a  young  gentleman  who 
seemed  to  have  just  come  or  to  be  just  going  away.  The 
first  words  that  struck  upon  Mrs.  Gamp's  ear  obviously  bore 
reference  to  the  patient ;  and  it  being  expedient  that  all  good 
attendants  should  know  as  much  as  possible  about  the  case 
on  which  their  skill  is  brought  to  bear,  Mrs.  Gamp  listened  as 
a  matter  of  duty. 

"  No  better,  then  .-'  "  observed  the  gentleman. 

"  Worse  !  "  said  the  landlord. 

*'  Much  worse,"  add  the  landlady. 

"  Oh  !  a  deal  badder,"  cried  the  chambermaid  from  the 
background,  opening  her  eyes  very  wide,  and  shaking  her 
head. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear 
it.  The  worst  of  it  is,  that  I  have  no  idea  what  friends  or 
relations  he  has,  or  where  they  live,  except  that  it  certainly  is 
not  in  London." 

The  landlord  looked  at  the  landlady  ;  the  landlady  looked 
at  the  landlord  ;  and  the  chambermaid  remarked,  hysterically, 
"  that  of  all  the  many  wague  directions  she  had  ever  seen  or 
heerd  of  (and  they  wasn't  few  in  an  hotel),  that  was  the 
waguest." 

"  The  fact  is,  you  see,"  pursued  the  gentleman,  "  as  I  told 
you  yesterday  when  you  sent  to  me,  I  really  know  very  little 
about  him.  We  were  school-fellows  together ;  but  since  that 
time  I  have  only  met  him  twice.  On  both  occasions  I  was  in 
London  for  a  boy's  holiday  (having  come  up  for  a  week  or  so 
from  Wiltshire),  and  lost  sight  of  him  again  directly.  The 
letter  bearing  my  name  and  address  which  you  found  upon 
his  table,  and  which  led  to  your  applying  to  me,  is  in  answer, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


413 


you  will  observe,  to  one  he  wrote  from  this  house  the  very 
day  he  was  taken  ill,  making  an  appointment  with  him  at  his 
own  request.      Here  is  his  letter,  if  you  wish  to  see  it." 

The  landlord  read  it  :  the  landlady  looked  over  him.  The 
chambermaid,  in  the  background,  made  out  as  much  of  it  as 
she  could,  and  invented  the  rest  ;  believing  it  all  from  that 
time  forth  as  a  positive  piece  of  evidence. 

"  He  has  very  little  luggage,  you  say  ? "  observed  the 
gentleman,  who  was  no  other  than  our  old  friend,  John  West- 
lock. 

"Nothing  but  a  portmanteau,"'  said  the  landlord]  "and 
very  little  in  it." 

"  A  few  pounds  in  his  purse,  though  1  " 

"  Yes.  It's  sealed  up,  and  in  the  cash-box.  I  made  a 
memorandum  of  the  amount,  which  j^ou're  welcome  to  see." 

"  Well  !  "  said  John,  "  as  the  medical  gentleman  says  the 
fever  must  take  its  course,  and  nothing  can  be  done  just  now 
beyond  giving  him  his  drinks  regularly  and  having  him  care- 
fully attended  to,  nothing  more  can  be  said  that  I  know  of, 
until  he  is  in  a  condition  to  give  us  some  information.  Can 
you  suggest  anything  else  .''  " 

"  N-no,"  replied  the  landlord,  "  except — " 

"  Except,  who's  to  pay,  I  suppose.'  "  said  John. 

"Why,"  hesitated  the  landlord,  "it  would  be  as  well." 

"Quite  as  well,"  said  the  landlady. 

"  Not  forgetting  to  remember  the  servants,"  said  the  cham- 
bermaid in  a  bland  whisper. 

"  It  is  but  reasonable,  I  fully  admit,"  said  John  Westlock. 
"  At  all  events,  you  have  the  stock  in  hand  sto  go  upon  for 
the  present  ;  and  I  will  readily  undertake  to  pay  the  doctor 
and  the  nurses." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  A  rayal  gentleman  !  " 

She  groaned  her  admiration  so  audibly,  that  they  all 
turned  round.  Mrs.  Gamp  felt  the  necessity  of  advancing, 
bundle  in  hand,  and  introducing  herself. 

"  The  night-nurse,"  she  observed,  "  from  Kingsgate  Street, 
well  beknown  to  Mrs.  Prig  the  day-nurse,  and  the  best  of 
creeturs.  How  is  the  poor  dear  gentleman,  to-night .-"  If  he 
an't  no  better  yet,  still  that  is  what  must  be  expected  and  pre- 
pared'for.  It  an't  the  fust  time  by  a  many  score,  ma'am," 
dropping  a  curtsey  to  the  landlady,  "  that  Mrs.  Prig  and  me 
has  nussed  together,  turn  and  turn  about,  one  off,  one  on. 
We  knows   each   other's  ways,  and  often  gives  relief  when 


414  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

Others  fail.  Our  charges  is  but  low,  sir  "  —  Mrs.  Gamp 
addressed  herself  to  John  on  this  head — "considerin'  the 
nater  of  our  painful  dooty.  If  they  wos  made  accordin'  to 
our  wishes,  they  would  be  easy  paid." 

Regarding  herself  as  having  now  delivered  her  inaugura- 
tion address,  Mrs.  Gamp  curtseyed  all  round,  and  signified 
her  wish  to  be  conducted  to  the  scene  of  her  official  duties. 
The  chambermaid  led  her,  through  a  variety  of  intricate  pas- 
sages, to  the  top  of  the  house  ;  and  pointing  at  length  to  a 
solitary  door  at  the  end  of  a  gallery,  informed  her  that 
yonder  was  the  chamber  where  the  patient  lay.  That  done, 
she  hurried  off  with  all  the  speed  she  could  make. 

Mrs.  Gamp  traversed  the  gallery  in  a  great  heat  from  hav- 
ing carried  her  large  bundle  up  so  many  stairs,  and  tapped  at  the 
door,  which  was  immediately  opened  by  Mrs.  Prig,  bonneted  and 
shawled  and  all  impatience  to  be  gone.  Mrs.  Prig  was  of  the 
Gamp  build,  but  not  so  fat  ;  and  her  voice  was  deeper  and 
more  like  a  man's.     She  had  also  a  beard. 

"  I  began  to  think  you  warn't  a  coming  !  "  Mrs.  Prig  ob- 
served, in  some  displeasure. 

"  It  shall  be  made  good  to-morrow  night,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
"  /honorable.  I  had  to  go  and  fetch  my  things."  She  had  be- 
gun to  make  signs  of  inquiry  in  reference  to  the  position  of 
the  patient  and  his  overhearing  them — for  there  was  a  screen 
before  the  door — when  Mrs.  Prig  settled  that  point  easily. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said  aloud,  "  he's  quiet,  but  his  wits  is  gone. 
It  ain't  no  matter  wot  you  say." 

"  Anything  to  tell  afore  you  goes,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Gamp,  setting  her  bundle  down  inside  the  door,  and  looking 
affectionately  at  her  partner. 

"The  pickled  Salmon,"  Mrs.  Prig  replied,  '^' is  quite  de- 
licious. I  can  partick'ler  recommend  it.  Don't  have  noth- 
ing to  say  to  the  cold  me'at,  for  it  tastes  of  the  stable.  The 
drinks  is  all  good." 

Mrs.  Gamp  expressed  herself  much  gratified. 

"The  physic  and  them  things  is  on  the  drawers  and 
mankle-shelf,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  cursorily.  "  He  took  his  last 
slime  draught  at  seven.  The  easy-chair  an't  soft  enough. 
You'll  want  his  piller." 

Mrs.  Gamp  thanked  her  for  these  hints,  and  giving  her  a 
friendly  good-night,  held  the  door  open  until  she  had  disap- 
peared at  the  other  end  of  the  gallery.  Having  thus  performed 
the  hospitable  duty  of  seeing  her  safely  off,  she  shut  it,  locked 


MAJi  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


415 


it  on  the  inside,  took  up  her  bundle,  walked  round  the  screen, 
and  entered  on  her  occupation  of  the  sick  chamber. 

"  A  little  dull,  but  not  so  bad  as  might  be,"  Mrs.  Gamp 
remarked.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  a  parapidge,  in  case  of  fire,  and 
lots  of  roofs  and  chimley-pots  to  walk  upon." 

It  will  be  seen  from  these  remarks  that  Mrs.  Gamp  was 
looking  out  of  window.  When  she  had  exhausted  the  prospect, 
she  tried  the  easy-chair,  which  she  indignantly  declared  was 
"  harder  than  a  brickbadge."  Next  she  pursued  her  researches 
among  the  physic-bottles,  glasses,  jugs,  and  tea-cups  ;  and 
when  she  had  entirely  satisfied  her  curiosity  on  all  these  sub- 
jects of  investigation,  she  untied  her  bonnet-strings  and 
strolled  up  to  the  bed-side  to  take  a  look  at  the  patient. 

A  young  inan — dark  and  not  ill-looking — with  long  black 
hair,  that  seemed  the  blacker  for  the  whiteness  of  the  bed- 
clothes. His  eyes  were  partly  open,  and  he  never  ceased 
to  roll  his  head  from  side  to  side  upon  the  pillow,  keep- 
ing his  body  almost  quiet.  He  did  not  utter  words  ;  but 
every  now  and  then  gave  vent  to  an  expression  of  impatience 
or  fatigue,  sometimes  of  surprise  ;  and  still  his  restless  head 
— oh,  weary,  weary  hour  ! — went  to  an  fro  without  a  moment's 
intermission. 

Mrs.  Gamp  solaced  herself  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and 
stood  looking  at  him  with  her  head  inclined  a  little  sideways, 
as  a  connoisseur  might  gaze  upon  a  doubtful  work  of  art.  By 
degrees,  a  horrible  remembrance  of  one  branch  of  her  call- 
ing took  possession  of  the  woman ;  and  stooping  down,  she 
pinned  his  wandering  arms  against  his  sides,  to  see  how  he 
would  look  if  laid  out  as  a  dead  man.  Hideous  as  it  may 
appear,  her  fingers  itched  to  compose  his  limbs  in  that  last 
marble  attitude. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  walking  away  from  the  bed,  "  he'd 
make  a  lovely  corpse." 

She  now  proceeded  to  unpack  her  bundle  ;  lighted  a  candle 
with  the  aid  of  a  fire-box  on  the  drawers  ;  filled  a  small  ket- 
tle, as  a  preliminary  to  refreshing  herself  with  a  cup  of  tea  in 
the  course  of  the  night ;  laid  what  she  called  "  a  little  bit  of  fire," 
for  the  same  philanthropic  purpose  ;  and  also  set  forth  a  small 
teaboard,  that  nothing  might  be  wanting  for  her  comfortable 
enjoyment.  These  preparations  occupied  so  long,  that  when 
they  were  brought  to  a  conclusion  it  was  high  time  to  think 
about  supper  ;  so  she  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  it. 

"I  think,  young  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  to  the  assistant 


4 1 6  ^fA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

chambermaid,  in  a  tone  expressive  of  weakness,  "  that  I  could 
pick  a  little  bit  of  pickled  salmon,  with  a  nice  little  sprig  of 
fennel,  and  a  sprinkling  of  white  pepper.  I  takes  new  bread, 
my  dear,  with  jest  a  little  pat  of  fresh  butter,  and  a  mossel  of 
cheese.  In  case  there  should  be  such  a  thing  as  a  cowcum- 
ber  in  the  'ouse,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  bring  it,  for  I'm  rather 
partial  to  'em,  and  they  does  a  world  of  good  in  a  sick  room. 
If  they  draws  the  Brighton  Old  Tipper  here,  I  takes  that  ale 
at  nig'it,  my  love  ;  it  being  considered  wakeful  by  the  doctors. 
And  what  ever  you  do,  young  woman,  don't  bring  more  than 
a  shilling's-worth  of  gin  and  watei  warm  when  I  rings  the  bell 
a  second  time  ;  for  that  is  always  my  allowance,  and  I  never 
takes  a  drop  beyond  !  " 

Having  preferred  these  moderate  requests"  Mrs.  Gamp 
observed  that  she  would  stand  at  the  door  until  the  order  was 
executed,  to  the  end  that  the  patient  might  not  be  disturbed 
by  her  opening  it  a  second  time  ;'  and  therefore  she  would 
thank  the  young  woman  to  "look  sharp." 

A  tray  was  brought  with  everything  upon  it,  even  to  the 
cucumber ;  and  Mrs.  Gamp  accordingly  sat  down  to  eat  and 
drink  in  high  good  humor.  The  extent  to  which  she  availed 
herself  of  the  vinegar,  and  supped  up  that  refreshing  fluid  with 
the  blade  of  her  knife,  can  scarcely  be  expressed  in  narrative. 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  she  meditated  over  the 
warm  shilling's-worth,  "  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is — living  in  a 
wale — to  be  contented  !  What  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  make 
sick  people  happy  in  their  beds,  and  never  mind  one's  self  as 
long  as  one  can  do  a  service  !  I  don't  believe  a  finer  cow- 
cumber  was  ever  grow'd.     I'm  sure  I  never  see  one  !  " 

She  moralized  in  the  same  vein  until  her  glass  was  empty, 
and  then  administered  the  patient's  medicine,  by  the  simple 
process  of  clutching  his  windpipe  to  make  him  gasp,  and  im- 
mediately pouring  it  down  his  throat. 

"  I  a'most  forgot  the  piller,  I  declare  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
drawing  it  away.  "  There  !  Now  he's  comfortable  as  he  can 
be,  /'m  sure  !     I  must  try  to  make  myself  as  much  so  as  I  can." 

With  this  view,  she  went  about  the  construction  of  an  ex- 
temporaneous bed  in  the  easy  chair,  with  the  addition  of  the 
next  easy  one  at  her  feet.  Having  formed  the  best  couch 
that  the  circumstances  admitted  of,  she  took  out  of  her  bundle 
a  yellow  nightcap,  of  prodigious  size,  in  shape  resembling  a 
cabbage  ;  which  article  of  dress  she  fixed  and  tied  on  with 
the  utmost  care,  previously  divesting  herself  of  a  row  of  bald 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


417 


old  curls  that  could  scarcely  be  called  false,  they  were  so  very 
innocent  of  anything  ajDproaching  to  deception.  Yxoxa.  the 
same  repository  she  brought  forth  a  night  jacket,  in  which  she 
also  attired  herself.  Finally,  she  produced  a  watchman's  coat, 
which  she  tied  round  her  neck  by  the  sleeves,  so  that  she  be- 
came two  people  ;  and  looked,  behind,  as  if  she  were  in  the 
act  of  being  embraced  by  one  of  the  old  patrol. 

All  these  arrangements  made,  she  lighted  the  rushlight, 
coiled  herself  upon  her  couch,  and  went  to  sleep.  Ghostly 
and  dark  the  room  became,  and  full  of  lowering  shadows. 
The  distant  noises  in  the  streets  were  gradually  hushed  ;  the 
house  was  quiet  as  a  sepulchre  ;  the  dead  of  night  was  coffined 
in  the  silent  city. 

Oh  weaiy,  wear}'  hour !  Oh  haggard  mind,  grouping 
darkly  through  the  past ;  incapable  of  detaching  itself  from  the 
miserable  present ;'  dragging  its  heavy  chain  of  care  through 
imaginary  feasts  and  revels,  and  scenes  of  awful  pomp  ;  seek- 
ing but  a  moment's  rest  among  the  long-forgotten  haunts  of 
childhood,  and  the  resorts  of  yesterday ;  and  dimly  finding 
fear  and  horror  everywhere  !  Oh,  wear\%  wear}^  hour  !  What 
were  the  wanderings  of  Cain,  to  these  ! 

Still,  without  a  moment's  interval,  the  burning  head  tossed 
to  and  fro.  Still,  from  time  to  time,  fatigue,  impatience,  suf- 
fering, and  surprise,  found  utterance  upon  that  rack,  and 
plainly  too,  though  never  once  in  words.  At  length,  in  the 
solemn  hour  of  midnight,  he  began  to  talk  ;  waiting  awfully 
for  answers  sometimes,  as  though  invisible  companions  were 
about  his  bed,  and  so  replying  to  their  speech  and  question- 


ing agam. 


Mrs.  Gamp  awoke,  and  sat  up  in  her  bed,  presenting  on 
the  wall  the  shadow  of  a  gigantic  night  constable,  struggling 
with  a  prisoner. 

"  Come  !  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  she  cried,  in  sharp  reproof. 
"Don't  make  none  of  that  noise  here." 

There  was  no  alteration  in  the  face,  or  in  the  incessant 
motion  of  the  head,  but  he  talked  on  wildly. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  coming  out  of  the  chair  with  an 
impatient  shiver  ;  "  I  thought  I  was  a  sleepin'  too  pleasant  to 
last  !    The  devil's  in  the  night,  I  think,  it's  turned  so  chilly !  " 

"  Don't  drink  so  much  !  "  cried  the  sick  man.  "  You'll 
ruin  us  all.  Don't  you  see  how  the  fountain  sinks  ?  Look 
at  the  mark  where  the  sparkling  water  was  just  now  !  " 

"  Sparkling  water,  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  I'll  have 

27 


41 8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

a  sparkling  cup  o'  tea,  I  think.  I  wish  you'd  hold  your 
noise  ! "' 

He  burst  into  a  laugh,  which,  being  prolonged,  fell  off 
into  a  dismal  wail.  Checking  himself,  with  tierce  inconstancy 
he  began  to  count,  fast. 

"  One — two — three — four — five — six. " 

" '  One,  two,  buckle  my  shoe,' "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  who  was 
now  on  her  knees,  lighting  the  fire,  " '  three,  four,  shut  the 
door,' — I  wish  you'd  shut  your  mouth,  young  man — '  five,  six, 
picking  up  sticks.'  If  I'd  got  a  few  handy,  I  should  have  the 
kettle  biling  all  the  sooner." 

Awaiting  this  desirable  consummation,  she  sat  down  so 
close  to  the  fender  (which  was  a  high  one)  that  her  nose 
rested  upon  it ;  and  for  some  time  she  drowsily  amused  her- 
self by  sliding  that  feature  backwards  and  forwards  along  the 
brass  top,  as  far  as  she  could,  without  changing  her  position 
to  do  it.  She  maintained,  all  the  while,  a  running  commen- 
tary upon  the  wanderings  of  the  man  in  bed. 

"  That  makes  five  hundred  and  twenty-one  men,  all  dressed 
alike,  and  with  the  same  distortion  on  their  faces,  that  have 
passed  in  at  the  window,  and  out  at  the  door,"  he  cried, 
anxiously.  "  Look  there  !  Five  hundred  and  twenty-two — 
twenty-three — twenty-four.     Do  you  see  them  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  /see  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  all  the  whole  kit  of 
'em  numbered  like  hackney-coaches,  ain't  they  ?  " 

"  Touch  me  !     Let  me  be  sure  of  this.     Touch  me  !  " 

"  You'll  take  your  next  draught  when  I've  made  the  kettle 
bile,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp,  composedly,  "  and  you'll  be 
touched  then.  You'll  be  touched  up,  too,  if  you  don't  take  it 
quiet." 

"  Five  hundred  and  twenty-eight,  five  hundred  and  twenty- 
nine,  five  hundred  and  thirty, — look  here  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  They're  coming  four  abreast,  each  man  with  his  arm 
entwined  in  the  next  man's,  and  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
What's  that  upon  the  arm  of  every  man,  and  on  the  flag  t  " 

"  Spiders,  p'raps,"  said  Mrs.  Ganip. 

"  Crape  !  Black  crape  !  Good  God  !  why  do  they  wear 
it  outside  ?  " 

"  Would  you  have  'em  carry  black  crape  in  their  insides  ?  " 
Mrs.  Gamp  retorted.     "  Hold  your  noise,  hold  your  noise." 

The  fire  beginning  by  this  time  to  impart  a  grateful 
warmth,  Mrs.  Gamp   became  silent ;  gradually    rubbed   her 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


419 


nose  more  and  more  slowly  along  the  top  of  the  fender  ;  and 
fell  into  a  heavy  doze.  She  was  awakened  by  the  room  ring- 
ing (as  she  fancied)  with  a  name  she  knew : 

"  Chuzzlewit !  " 

The  sound  was  so  distinct  and  real,  and  so  full  of  agonized 
entreaty,  that  Mrs.  Gamp  jumped  up  in  terror,  and  ran  to  the 
door.  She  expected  to  find  the  passage  filled  with  people, 
come  to  tell  her  that  the  house  in  the  City  had  taken  tire. 
But  the  place  was  empty — not  a  soul  was  there.  She  opened 
the  window,  and  looked  out.  Dark,  dull,  ding}^,  and  desolate 
house-tops.  As  she  passed  to  her  seat  again,  she  glanced  at 
the  patient.  Just  the  same  ;  but  silent.  Mrs.  Gamp  was  so 
warm  now,  that  .she  threw  off  the  watchman's  coat,  and  fanned 
herself. 

"  It  seemed  to  make  the  wer}^  bottles  ring,"  she  said. 
"  What  could  I  have  been  a-dreaming  of  ?  That  dratted 
ChufTey,  I'll  be  bound." 

The  supposition  was  probable  enough.  At  any  rate,  a 
pinch  of  snuff,  and  the  song  of  the  steaming  kettle,  quite  re- 
stored the  tone  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  nerves,  which  were  none  of 
the  weakest.  She  brewed  her  tea  ;  made  some  buttered 
toast  ;  and  sat  down  at  the  tea-board,  with  her  face  to  the 
fire. 

When  once  again,  in  a  tone  more  terrible  than  tliat  which 
had  vibrated  in  her  slumbering  ear,  these  words  were  shrieked 
out : 

"  Chuzzlewit !     Jonas  !     No  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  dropped  the  cup  she  was  in  the  act  of  raising 
to  her  lips,  and  turned  round  with  a  start  that  made  the  little 
tea-board  leap.     The  cry  had  come  from  the  bed. 

It  was  bright  morning  the  next  time  Mrs.  Gamp  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  the  sun  was  rising  cheerfully.  Lighter 
and  lighter  grew  the  sky,  and  noisier  the  streets  ;  and  high 
into  the  summer  air  uprose  the  smoke  of  newly  kindled  fires, 
until  the  busy  day  was  broad  awake. 

Mrs.  Prig  relieved  punctually,  having  passed  a  good  night 
at  her  other  patient's.  Mr.  Westlock  came  at  the  same  time, 
but  he  was  not  admitted,  the  disorder  being  infectious.  The 
doctor  came  too.  The  doctor  sliook  iiis  head.  It  was  all  he 
could  do,  under  the  circumstances,  and  he  did  it  well. 

"  What  sort  of  a  night,  nurse  ?  " 

"  Restless,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Talk  much  ?  " 


42  o 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Middling,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Nothing  to  the  purpose,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh  bless  you  no,  sir.     Only  jargon." 

"Well !  "  said  the  doctor,  "  we  must  keep  him  quiet ;  keep 
the  room-  cool ;  give  him  his  draughts  regularly  ;  and  see  that 
he's  carefully  looked  too.     That's  all !  " 

"  And  as  long  as  Mrs.  Prig  and  me  waits  upon  him,  sir, 
no  fear  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp 

"  I  suppose,"  observed  Mrs.  Prig,  when  they  had  curtseyed 
the  doctor  out,   "  there's  nothin'  new?  " 

"  Nothin'  at  all,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  He's  rather 
wearin'  in  his  talk  from  making  up  a  lot  of  names ;  elseways 
you  needn't  mind  him." 

"  Oh,  I  sha'n't  mind  him,"'  Mrs.  Prig  returned.  "  I  have 
somethin'  else  to  think  of." 

"  I  pays  my  debts  to-night,  you  know,  my  dear,  and  comes 
afore  my  time,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But,  Betsey  Prig  " — 
speaking  with  great  feeling,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  her 
arm — "  try  the  cowcumbers.  God  bless  you !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AN    UNEXPECTED   MEETING,    AND   A   PROMISING    PROSPECT. 

The  laws  of  sympathy  between  beards  and  birds,  and  the 
secret  source  of  that  attraction  which  frequently  impels  a 
shaver  of  the  one  to  be  a  dealer  in  the  other,  are  questions 
for  the  subtle  reasoning  of  scientific  bodies  :  not  the  less  so, 
because  their  investigation  would  seem  calculated  to  lead 
to  no  particular  result.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  the 
artist  who  had  the  honor  of  entertaining  Mrs.  Gamp  as  his 
first-floor  lodger  united  the  two  pursuits  of  barbering  and 
bird-fancying  ;  and  that  it  was  not  an  original  idea  of  his,  but 
one  in  which  he  had,  dispersed  about  the  by-streets  and  sub- 
urbs of  the  town,  a  host  of  rivals. 

The  name  of  this  householder  was  Paul  Sweedlepipe.  But 
he  was  commonly  called  Poll  Sweedlepipe,  and  was  not 
uncommonly  believed  to  have  been  so  christened,  among  his 
friends  and  neighbors. 


MAJi  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT.  42 1 


I 


With  the  exception  of  the  staircase,  and  his  lodger's 
private  apartment,  Poll  Sweedlepipe's  house  was  one  great 
bird's  nest.  Game-cocks  resided  in  the  kitchen ;  pheasants 
wasted  the  brightness  of  their  golden  plumage  on  the  garret ; 
bantams  roosted  in  the  cellar ;  owls  had  possession  of  the 
bed-room ;  and  specimens  of  all  the  smaller  fry  of  birds  chir- 
ruped and  twittered  in  the  shop.  The  staircase  was  sacred  to 
rabbits.  There  in  hutches  of  all  shapes  and  kinds,  made 
from  old  packing-cases,  boxes,  drawers,  and  tea-chests,  they 
increased  in  a  prodigious  degree,  arid  contributed  their  share 
towards  that  complicated  whiff  which,  quite  impartially,  and 
without  distinction  of  person,  saluted  every  nose  that  was  put 
into  Sweedlepipe's  easy  shaving-shop. 

Many  noses  found  their  way  there,  for  all  that,  especially 
on  Sunday  morning,  before  church-time.  Even  archbishops 
shave,  or  must  be  shaved,  on  a  Sunday,  and  beards  7xv7/  grow 
after  twelve  o'clock  on  Saturday  night,  though  it  be  upon  the 
chins  of  base  mechanics  ;  who,  not  being  able  to  engage  their 
valvets  by  the  quarter,  hire  them  by  the  job,  and  pay  them — 
oh,  the  wickedness  of  copper  coin  ! — in  dirty  pence.  Poll 
Sweedlepipe,  the  sinner,  shaved  all  comers  at  a  penny  each, 
and  cut  the  hair  of  any  customer  for  twopence  ;  and  being  a 
lone  unmarried  man,  and  having  some  connection  in  the  bird 
line.  Poll  got  on  tolerably  well. 

He  was  a  little  elderly  man,  with  a  clammy  cold  right 
hand,  from  which  even  rabbits  and  birds  could  not  remove 
the  smell  of  shaving-soap.  Poll  had  something  of  the  bird 
in  his  nature  ;  not  of  the  hawk  or  eagle,  but  of  the  sparrow, 
that  builds  in  chimney-stacks,  and  inclines  to  human  company. 
He  was  not  quarrelsome,  though,  like  the  sparrow  ;  but  peace- 
ful, like  the  dove.  In  his  walk  he  strutted;  and,  in  this  re- 
spect, he  bore  a  faint  resemblance  to  the  pigeon,  as  well  as  in 
a  certain  prosiness  of  speech,  which  might,  in  its  monotony, 
be  likened  to  the  cooing  of  that  bird.  He  was  very  inquisi- 
tive ;  and  when  he  stood  at  his  shop-door  in  the  evening-tide, 
watching  the  neighbors,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  and  his 
eye  cocked  knowingly,  there  was  a  dash  of  the  raven  in  him. 
Yet,  there  was  no  more  wickedness  in  I^oll  than  in  a  robin. 
Happily,  too,  when  any  of  his  ornithological  properties  were 
on  the  verge  of  going  too  far,  they  were  quenched,  dissolved, 
melted  down,  and  neutralized  in  the  barber  ;  just  as  his  bald 
head — otherwise,  as  the  head  of  a  shaved  magpie — lost  itself 
in  a  wig  of  curly  black  ringlets,  parted  on  one  side,  and  cut 


42  2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

away  almost  to  the  crown,  to  indicate  immense  capacity  of 
intellect. 

Poll  had  a  very  small,  shrill,  treble  voice,  which  might 
have  led  the  wags  of  Kingsgate  Street  to  insist  the  more  upon 
his  feminine  designation.  He  had  a  tender  heart,  too  ;  for, 
when  he  had  a  good  commission  to  provide  three  or  four  score 
sparrows  for  a  shooting-match,  he  would  observe,  in  a  compas- 
sionate tone,  how  singular  it  was  that  sparrows  should  have 
been  made  expressly  for  such  purposes.  The  question,  whether 
men  were  made  to  shoot  tliem,  never  entered  into  Poll's  phi- 
losophy. 

Poll  wore  in  his  sporting  character,  a  velveteen  coat,  a 
great  deal  of  blue  stocking,  ankle  boots,  a  neckerchief  of 
some  bright  color,  and  a  very  tall  hat.  Pursuing  his  more 
qujet  occupation  of  barber,  he  generally  subsided  into  an 
apron  not  over-clean,  a  flannel  jacket,  and  corduroy  knee- 
shorts.  It  was  in  this  latter  costume,  but  with  his  apron 
girded  round  his  waist,  as  a  token  of  his  having  shut  up  shop 
for  the  night,  that  he  closed  the  door  one  evening,  some  weeks 
after  the  occurrences  detailed  in  the  last  chapter,  and  stood 
upon  the  steps  in  Kingsgate  Street,  listening  until  the  little 
cracked  bell  within  should  leave  off  ringing.  For,  until  it 
did — this  was  Mr.  Sweedlepipe's  reflection — the  place  never 
seemed  quiet  enough  to  be  left  to  itself. 

"  It's  the  greediest  little  bell  to  ring,"  said  Poll,  "  that 
ever  was.     But  it's  quiet  at  last." 

He  rolled  his  apron  up  a  little  tighter  as  he  said  these 
words,  and  hastened  down  the  street.  Just  as  he  was  turn- 
ing into  Holborn,  he  ran  against  a  young  gentleman  in  a  liv- 
ery. This  youth  was  bold,  though  small,  and  with  several 
lively  expressions  of  displeasure,  turned  upon  him  instantly. 

"  Now,  Stoo-pid  !  "  cried  the  young  gentleman.  "  Can't 
you  look  where  you're  a  going  to — eh  ?  Can't  you  mind 
where  you're  a  coming  to — eh  ?  What  do  you  think  your 
eyes  was  made  for — eh  ?     Ah  !     Yes.     Oh  !     Now  then  !  " 

The  young  gentleman  pronounced  the  two  last  words  in  a 
very- loud  tone  and  with  frightful  emphasis,  as  though  they 
contained  within  themselves  the  essence  of  the  direst  aggra- 
vation. But  he  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  his  anger  yielded 
to  surprise,  and  he  cried,  in  a  milder  tone  : 

"  What !     Polly  !  " 

"  Why  it  ain't  you,  sure  !  "  cried  Poll.  "  It  can't  be  you  !  " 
No,    It  ain't  me,"  returned  the  youtli.    "  It's  my  son,  my 


a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


423 


oldest  one.  He's  a  credit  to  his  father,  ain't  he,  Polly  ? " 
With  this  delicate  little  piece  of  banter,  he  halted  on  the  pave- 
ment, and  went  round  and  round  in  circles,  for  the  better  ex- 
hibition of  his  figure,  rather  to  the  inconvenience  of  the  pas- 
sengers generally,  who  were  not  in  an  equal  state  of  spirits 
with  himself. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,"  said  Poll.  "  What  !  You've 
left  your  old  place,  then  ?     Have  you  1  " 

"  Have  I  ! "  returned  his  young  friend,  who  had  by  this 
time  stuck  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  white  cord  breeches, 
and  was  swaggering  along  at  the  barber's  side.  "  D'ye  know 
a  pair  of  top-boots  when  you  see  'em,  Polly .''     Look  here  !  " 

"  Beau-ti-ful^!  "  cried  Mr.  Sweedlepipe. 

"D'ye  know  a  slap-up  sort  of  button,  when  you  see  it.'"' 
said  the  youth.  "  Don't  look  at  mine,  if  you  ain't  a  judge, 
because  these  lions'  heads  was  made  for  men  of  taste,  "not 
snobs." 

"  Beau-ti-ful  !  "  cried  the  barber  again.  "  A  grass-green 
frock-coat,  too,  bound  with  gold  !  And  a  cockade  in  your 
hat !  " 

"/should  hope  so,"  replied  the  youth.  "Blow  the  cock- 
ade, though  ;  for,  except  that  it  don't  turn  round,  it's  like  the 
wentilator  that  used  to  be  in  the  kitchen  winder  at  Todgers's. 
You  ain't  seen  the  old  lady's  name  in  the  Gazette,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  the  barber.     "  Is  she  a  bankrupt  ?  " 

"  If  she  ain't,  she  will  be,"  retorted  Bailey.  "  That  bis'- 
ness  never  can  be  carried  on  without  me.  Well !  How  are 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I'm  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.  "  Are  you  living  at  this 
end  of  the  town,  or  were  you  coining  to  see  me  ?  Was  that 
the  bis'ness  that  brought  you  to  Holborn  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  got  no  bis'ness  in  Holborn,"  returned  Bailey, 
with  some  displeasure.  "  All  my  bis'ness  lays  at  the  West- 
end.  I've  got  the  right  sort  of  governor  now.  You  can't  see 
his  face  for  his  whiskers,  and  can't  see  his  whiskers  for  the 
dye  upon  'em.  That's  a  gentleman,  ain't  it }  You  wouldn't 
like  a  ride  in  a  cab,  would  you?  Why,  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to 
offer  it.  You'd  faint  away,  only  to  see  me  a  comin'  at  a  mild 
trot  round  the  corner." 

To  convey  a  slight  idea  of  the  effect  of  this  approach,  Mr. 
Bailey  counterfeited  in  his  own  person  the  action  of  a  high- 
trotting  horse,  and  threw  up  his  head  so  high,  in  backing 
against  a  pump,  that  he  shook  his  hat  off. 


424  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

"Why,  he's  own  uncle  to  Capricorn,"  said  Bailey,  "and 
brother  to  Cauliflower.  He's  been  through  the  winders  of 
two  chaney  shops  since  we've  had  him,  andwos  sold  for  killin' 
his  missis.     That's  a  horse,  I  hope  ?  " 

"Ah  !  you'll  never  want  to  buy  any  more  red-polls,  now," 
observed  Poll,  looking  on  his  young  friend  with  an  air  of  mel- 
ancholy. "  You'll  never  want  to  buy  any  more  red-polls  now, 
to  hang  up  over  the  sink,  will  you  ? " 

"/should  think  not,"  replied  Bailey.  "  Reether  so.  I 
wouldn't  have  nothin'  to  say  to  any  bird  below  a  Peacock  ; 
and  he'^  be  wulgar.     Well,  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I'm  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.  He  answered  the  ques- 
tion again  because  Mr.  Bailey  asked  it  again ;  Mr.  Bailey 
asked  it  again,  because— accompanied  with  a  straddling  action 
of  the  white  cords,  a  bend  of  the  knees,  and  a  striking- 
forth  of  the  top-boots — it  was  an  easy,  horse-fleshy,  turfy  sort 
of  thing  to  do. 

"  Wot  are  you  up  to,  old  feller  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bailey,  with 
the  same  graceful  rakishness.  He  was  quite  the  man-about- 
town  of  the  conversation,  while  the  easy-shaver  was  the  child. 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  fetch  my  lodger  home,"  said  Paul. 

"  A  woman  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  "  for  a  twenty-pun'  note  \  " 

The  little  barber  hastened  to  explain  that  she  was  neither 
a  young  woman,  nor  a  handsome  woman,  but  a  nurse,  who 
had  been  acting  as  a  kind  of  housekeeper  to  a  gentleman  for 
some  weeks  past,  and  left  her  place  that  night,  in  consequence 
of  being  superseded  by  another  and  a  more  legitimate  house- 
keeper :  to  wit,  the  gentleman's  bride. 

"  He's  newly-married,  and  he  brings  his  young  wife  home 
to-night,"  said  the  barber.  "  So  I'm  going  to  fetch  my  lodger 
away — Mr.  Chuzzlewit's,  close  behind  the  Post-office — and 
carry  her  box  for  her." 

"  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  ?  "  said  Bailey. 

"  Ah  !  "  returned  Paul :  "  that's  the  name  sure  enough. 
Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey  ;  "  not  at  all.  And  I  don't 
know  her !  Not  neither !  Why,  they  first  kept  company 
through  me,  a'most." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  Paul. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  a  wink  ;  "  and  she  ain't  bad- 
looking,  mind  you.  But  her  sister  was  the  best.  She  was  the 
merry  one.  I  often  used  to  have  a  bit  of  fun  with  her,  in  the 
hold  times !  " 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT.  425 

Mr.  Bailey  spoke  as  if  he  already  had  a  leg  and  three- 
quarters  in  the  grave,  and  this  had  happened  twenty  or  thirty 
years  ago.  Paul  Sweedlepipe,  the  meek,  was  so  perfectly 
confounded  by  his  precocious  self-possession,  and  his  patroniz- 
ing manner,  as  well  as  by  his  boots,  cockade,  and  liver}',  that 
a  mist  swam  before  his  eyes,  and  he  saw— not  the  Bailey,  of 
acknowledged  juvenility,  from  Todgers's  Commercial  Boarding 
House,  who  had  made  his  acquaintance  within  a  twelvemonth, 
by  purchasing,  at  all  sundry  times,  small  birds  at  two  pence  each 
— but  a  highly  condensed  embodiment  of  the  sporting  grooms  in 
London ;  an  abstract  of  all  the  stable-knowledge  of  the  time  ;  a 
something  at  a  high-pressure  thatmusthave  had  existence  many 
years,  and  was  fraught  with  terrible  experiences.  And  truly, 
though  in  the  cloudy  atmosphere  of  Todgers's,  Mr.  Bailey's  ge- 
nius had  ever  shone  out  brightly  in  this  particular  respect,  it  now 
eclipsed  both  time  and  space,  cheated  beholders  of  their  senses, 
and  worked  on  their  belief  in  defiance  of  all  natural  laws.  He 
walked  along  the  tangible  and  real  stones  of  Holborn  Hill, 
an  under-sized  boy  ;  and  yet  he  winked  the  winks,  and  thought 
the  thoughts,  and  did  the  deeds,  and  said  the  sayings  of  an 
ancient  man.  There  was  an  old  principle  within  him,  and  a 
young  surface  without.  He  became  an  inexplicable  creature  : 
a  breeched  and  booted  Sphinx.  There  was  no  course  open  to 
the  barber  but  to  go  distracted  himself,  or  to  take  Bailey  for 
granted  :  and  he  wisely  chose  the  latter. 

Mr.  Bailey  was  good  enough  to  continue  to  bear  him  com- 
pany, and  to  entertain  him,  as  they  went,  with  easy  conversa- 
tion on  various  sporting  topics  ;  especially  on  the  compara- 
tive merits,  as  a  general  principle,  of  horses  with  white  stock- 
ings, and  horses  without.  In  regard  to  the  style  of  tail  to  be 
preferred,  Mr.  Bailey  had  opinions  of  his  own,  wiiich  he  ex- 
plained, but  begged  they  might  by  no  means  influence  his 
friends,  as  here  he  knew  he  had  the  misfortune  to  differ  from 
some  excellent  authorities.  He  treated  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  to 
a  dram,  compounded  agreeably  to  his  own  directions,  which 
he  informed  him  had  been  invented  by  a  member  of  the  Jockey 
Club  ;  and,  as  they  were  by  this  time  near  the  barber's  desti- 
nation, he  observed  that,  as  he  had  an  hour  to  spare,  and 
knew  the  parties,  he  would,  if  quite  agreeable,  he  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Gamp. 

Paul  knocked  at  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  ;  and,  on  the  door 
being  opened  by  that  lady,  made  the  two  distinguished  per- 
sons known  to  one  another.     It  was  a  happy  feature  in   Mrs. 


426  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

Gamp's  twofold  profession,  that  it  gave  her  an  interest  in 
everything  that  was  young  as  well  as  in  everything  that  was 
old.     She  received  Mr.  Bailey  with  much  kindness. 

"  It's  very  good,  I'm  sure,  of  you  to  come,"  she  said  to 
her  landlord,  "  as  well  as  bring  so  nice  a  friend.  But  I'm 
afraid  that  I  must  trouble  you  so  far  as  to  step  in,  for  the 
young  couple  has  not  yet  made  appearance." 

"  They're  late,  ain't  they }  "  inquired  her  landlord,  when 
she  had  conducted  them  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Well,  sir,  considerin'  the  Wings  of  Love,  they  are,"  said 
Mrs.  Gamp. 

Mr.  Bailey  inquired  whether  the  Wings  of  Love  had  ever 
won  a  plate,  or  could  be  backed  to  do  anything  remarkable  ; 
and  being  informed  that  it  was  not  a  horse,  but  merely  a 
poetical  or  figurative  expression,  evinced  considerable  diso-ust. 
Mrs.  Gamp  was  so  vevf  much  astonished  by  his  affable 
manners  and  great  ease,  that  she  was  about  to  propound  to 
her  landlord  in  a  whisper  the  staggering  inquir)',  whether  he 
was  a  man  or  a  boy,  when  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  anticipating  her 
design,  made  a  timely  diversion. 

"  He  knows  Mrs.  Chuzziewit,"  said  Paul  aloud. 

"There's  nothin'  he  don't  know;  that's  my  opinion," 
observed  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  All  the  wickedness  of  the  world  is 
Print  to  him." 

Mr.  Bailey  received  this  as  a  compliment,  and  said,  adjust- 
ing his  cravat,  "  reether  so." 

"  As  you  knows  Mrs.  Chuzziewit,  you  knows,  p'raps,  what 
her  chris'n  name  is  ?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  observed. 

"  Charity,"  said  Bailev. 

"  That  it  ain't !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Cherry,  then,"  said  Bailey.  "  Cherr}^'s  short  for  it.  It's 
all  the  same." 

"It  don't  begin  with  a  C  at  all,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp, 
shaking  her  head.     "  It  begins  with  a  M." 

"  Whew  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  slapping  a  little  cloud  of  pipe- 
clay out  of  his  left  leg,  "  then  he's  been  and  married  the  merry 
one  !  " 

As  these  words  were  mysterious,  Mrs.  Gamp  called  upon 
him  to  explain,  which  Mr.  Bailey  proceeded  to  do,  that  lady 
listening  greedily  to  ever^-thing  he  said.  He  was  yet  in  the 
fulness  of  his  narrative  when  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  a 
double  knock  at  the  street  door,  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
newly-married  couple.     Begging  him  to  reserve  what  more 


X 


o 


z 

o 

X 

R 

O 

o 


o 


c 


o 

2 


4i 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


427 


he  had  to  say,  for  her  hearing  on  the  way  home,  Mrs.  Gamp 
took  up  the  candle,  and  hurried  away  to  receive  and  welcome 
the  young  mistress  of  the  house. 

"  Wishing  you  appiness  and  joy  with  all  my  art,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  dropping  a  curtsey  as  they  entered  the  hall  ;  "  and  you, 
too,  sir.  Your  lady  looks  a  little  tired  with  the  journey,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit,  a  pretty  dear  !  " 

"  She  has  bothered  enough  about  it,"  grumbled  Mr.  Jonas. 
"  Now,  show  a  light,  will  you  t  " 

"  This  way,  ma'am,  if  you  please,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  going 
up  stairs  before  them.  "  Things  has  been  made  as  comfort- 
able as  they  could  be  ;  but  there's  many  things  you'll  have  to 
alter  your  owiv  self  when  you  gets  time  to  look  about  you. 
Ah  !  sweet  thing  !  But  you  don't,"  added  Mrs.  Gamp,  inter- 
nally, "  you  don't  look  much  like  a  merry  one,  I  must  say !  " 

It  was  true  :  she  did  not.  The  death  that  had  gone  be- 
fore the  bridal  seemed  to  have  left  its  shade  upon  the  house. 
The  air  was  heavy  and  oppressive  ;  the  rooms  were  dark  ;  a 
deep  gloom  filled  up  every  chink  and  corner.  Upon  the 
hearthstone,  like  a  creature  of  ill  omen,  sat  the  aged  clerk, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  some  withered  branches  in  the  stove. 
He  rose  and  looked  at  her. 

"  So  there  you  are,  Mr.  Chuff,"  said  Jonas  carelessly,  as 
he  dusted  his  boots  ;  "  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  eh  ? " 

"  Still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  sir,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  And  Mr.  Chuffey  may  thank  you  for  it,  as  many  and  many 
a  time  I've  told  him." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  not  in  the  best  of  humors,  for  he  merely 
said,  as  he  looked  round,  "  We  don't  want  you  any  more,  you 
know,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  I'm  a  going  immediate,  sir,"  returned  the  nurse  ;  "  un- 
less there's  nothink  I  can  do  for  you,  ma'am.  Ain't  there," 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  look  of  great  sweetness,  and  rum- 
maging all  the  time  in  her  pocket  ;  "  ain't  there  nothink  I 
can  do  for  you,  my  little  bird  .'  " 

"  No,"  said  Merry,  almost  crying.  "  You  had  better  go 
a  way,  please  !  " 

With  a  leer  of  mingled  sweetness  and  slyness  ;  with  one 
eye  on  the  future,  one  on  the  bride,  and  an  arch  expression  in 
her  face,  partly  spiritual,  partly  spirituous,  and  wholly  pro- 
fessional and  peculiar  to  her  art,  Mrs.  Gamp  rummaged  in 
her  pocket  again,  and  took  from  it  a  printed  card,  whereon 
was  an  inscription  copied  from  her  sign-board. 


42  8  ^AR  2ViV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  Would  you  be  so  good,  my  darling  dovey  of  a  dear  young 
married  lady,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  in  a  low  voice,  "  as  put 
that  somewheres  where  you  can  keep  it  in  your  mind  ?  I'm 
well  beknown  to  many  ladies,  and  it's  my  card.  Gamp  is  my 
name,  and  Gamp  my  nater.  Livin'  quite  handy,  I  will  make 
so  bold  as  call  in  now  and  then,  and  make  inquiry  how  your 
health  and  spirits  is,  my  precious  chick !  " 

And  with  innumerable  leers,  winks,  coughs,  nods,  smiles, 
and  curtseys,  all  leading  to  the  establishment  of  a  mysterious 
and  confidential  understanding  between  herself  and  the  bride, 
Mrs.  Gamp,  invoking  a  blessing  upon  the  house,  leered,  winked, 
coughed,  nodded,  smiled,  and  curtseyed  herself  out  of  the 
room. 

"  But  I  will  say,  and  I  would  if  I  was  led  a  Martha  to  the 
Stakes  for  it,"  Mrs.  Gamp  remarked  below  stairs,  in  a  whisper, 
"  that  she  don't  look  much  like  a  merry  one  at  this  present 
moment  of  time." 

"  Ah  !  wait  till  you  hear  her  laugh  !  "  said  Bailey. 

"  Hem  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  kind  of  groan.  "  I  will, 
child." 

They  said  no  more  in  the  house,  for  Mrs.  Gamp  put  on  her 
bonnet,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  took  up  her  box,  and  Mr.  Bailey 
accompanied  them  towards  Kingsgate  Street,  recounting  to 
Mrs.  Gamp  as  they  went  along,  the  origin  and  progress  of  his 
acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit  and  her  sister.  It  was  a 
pleasant  instance  of  his  youth's  precocity,  that  he  fancied  Mrs. 
Gamp  had  conceived  a  tenderness  for  him,  and  was  much 
tickled  by  her  misplaced  attachment. 

As  the  door  closed  heavily  behind  them,  Mrs.  Jonas  sat 
down  in  a  chair,  and  felt  a  change  chill  creep  upon  her,  whilst 
she  looked  about  the  room.  It  was  pretty  much  as  she  had 
known  it,  but  appeared  more  dreary.  She  had  thought  to  see 
it  brightened  to  receive  her. 

"  It  ain't  good  enough  for  you,  I  suppose  ? "  said  Jonas, 
watching  her  looks. 

"  Why,  it  is  dull,"  said  Merry,  trying  to  be  more  herself. 

*'  It'll  be  duller  before  you're  done  with  it,"  retorted  Jonas, 
"  if  you  give  me  any  of  your  airs.  You're  a  nice  article,  to 
turn  sulky  on  first  coming  home  !  'Ecod,  you  used  to  have 
life  enough,  when  you  could  plague  me  with  it.  The  gal's 
down  stairs.  Ring  the  bell  for  supper,  while  I  take  my  boots 
off!" 

She  roused  herself  from  looking  after  him  as  he  left  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


429 


room,  to  do  what  he  had  desired,  when  the  old  man  Chuffey 
laid  his  hand  softly  on  her  arm. 

"  You  are  not  married  ?  "  he  said  eagerly.  "  Not  mar- 
ried ?  " 

"  Yes.  A  month  ago.  Good  Heaven,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter ?  " 

He  answered  nothing  was  the  matter  ;  and  turned  from 
her.  But  in  her  fear  and  wonder,  turning  also,  she  saw  him 
raise  his  trembling  hands  above  his  head,  and  heard  him 
say  : 

"  Oh  !  woe,  woe,  woe,  upon  this  wicked  house  !  " 

It  was  her  welcome, — Home. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SHOWING    THAT    OLD  FRIENDS    MAY    NOT    ONLY    APPEAR    WITH 

NEW     FACES,    BUT  IN     FALSE    COLORS.        THAT    PEOPLE    ARE 

PRONE   TO     BITE  ;  AND     THAT     BITERS    MAY  SOMETIMES    CE 
BITTEN. 

Mr.  Bailey,  Junior — for  the  sporting  character,  whilom 
of  general  utility  at  Todgers's,  had  now  regularly  set  up  in  life 
under  that  name,  without  troubling  himself  to  obtain  from  the 
legislature  a  direct  license  in  the  form  of  a  Private  Bill,  which 
of  all  kinds  and  classes  of  bills  is  without  exception  the  most 
unreasonable  in  its  charges — Mr.  Bailey,  Junior,  just  tall 
enough  to  be  seen  by  an  inquiring  eye,  gazing  indolently  at 
society  from  beneath  the  apron  of  his  master's  cab,  drove 
slowly  up  and  down  Pall  Mall  about  the  hour  of  noon,  in 
waiting  for  his  "Governor."  The  horse  of  distinguished 
family,  who  had  Capricorn  for  his  nephew,  and  Cauliflower  for 
his  brother,  showed  himself  worthy  of  his  high  relations  by 
champing  at  the  bit  until  his  chest  was  white  with  foam,  and 
rearing  like  a  horse  in  heraldry  ;  the  plated  harness  and  the 
patent  leather  glittered  in  the  sun  ;  pedestrians  admired  ;  Mr. 
Bailey  was  complacent,  but  unmoved.  He  seemed  to  say, 
"  A  barrow,  good  people,  a  mere  barrow  ;  nothing  to  what  we 
could  do,  if  we  chose  ! "  and  on  he  went,  squaring  his  short 
green  arms  outside  the  apron,  as  if  he  were  hooked  on  to  it  by 
his  armpits. 


43° 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


Mr.  Bailey  had  a  great  opinion  of  brother  to  Cauliflower,  and 
estimated  his  powers  highly.  But  he  never  told  him  so.  On 
the  contrar}%  it  was  his  practice,  in  driving  that  animal,  to 
assail  him  with  disrespectful,  if  not  injurious  expressions,  as, 
"Ah!  would  you!"  "Did  you  think  it,  then?"  "Where 
are  you  going  to  now  }  "  "  No  you  won't,  my  lad  !  "  and  simi- 
lar fragmentary  remarks.  These  being  usually  accompanied 
by  a  jerk  of  the  rein,  or  a  crack  of  the  whip,  led  to  many 
trials  of  strength  between  them,  and  to  many  contentions  for 
the  upper  hand,  terminating  now  and  then  in  china  shops,  and 
other  unusual  goals,  as  Mr.  Bailey  had  already  hinted  to  his 
friend  Poll  Sweedlepipe. 

On  the  present  occasion  Mr.  Bailey,  being  in  spirits,  was 
more  than  commonly  hard  upon  his  charge  ;  in  consequence 
of  which  that  fiery  animal  confined  himself  almost  entirely  to 
his  hind  legs  in  displaying  his  paces,  and  constantly  got  him- 
self into  positions  with  reference  to  the  cabriolet  that  very 
much  amazed  the  passengers  in  the  street.  But  Mr.  Bailey, 
not  at  all  disturbed,  had  still  a  shower  of  pleasantries  to  bestow 
on  any  one  who  crossed  his  path  ;  as,  calling  to  a  full-grown 
coalheaver  in  a  wagon,  who  for  a  moment  blocked  the  way, 
"  Now,  young  'un,  who  trusted  you  with  a  cart  ?  "  inquiring  of 
elderly  ladies  who  wanted  to  cross,  and  ran  back  again,  "  Wliy 
they  didn't  go  to  the  workhouse  and  get  an  order  to  be  buried .''  " 
tempting  boys  with  friendly  words,  to  get  up  behind,  and 
immediately  afterwards  cutting  them  down  ;  and  the  like 
flashes  of  a  cheerful  humor,  which  he  would  occasionally  re- 
lieve by  going  round  St.  James's  Square  at  a  hand  gallop,  and 
coming  slowly  into  Pall  Mall  by  another  entry,  as  if,  in  the  in- 
terval, his  pace  had  been  a  perfect  crawl. 

It  was  not  until  these  amusements  had  been  very  often  re- 
peated, and  the  apple-stall  at  the  corner  had  sustained  so 
many  miraculous  escapes  as  to  appear  impregnable,  that  Mr. 
Bailey  was  summoned  to  the  door  of  a  certain  house  in  Pall 
Mall,  and  turning  short,  obeyed  the  call  and  jumped  out.  It 
was  not  until  he  had  held  the  bridle  for  some  minutes  longer 
— every  jerk  of  Cauliflower's  brother's  head,  and  every  twitch 
of  Cauhflower's  brother's  nostril,  taking  him  ofi^  his  legs  in  the 
meanwhile — that  two  persons  entered  the  vehicle,  one  of  whom 
took  the  reins  and  drove  rapidly  off.  Nor  was  it  until  Mr.  Bai- 
ley had  run  after  it  some  hundreds  of  yards  in  vain,  that  he  man- 
aged to  lift  his  short  leg  into  the  iron  step,  and  finally  to  get 
his  boots  upon  the  little  footboard  behind.     Then,  indeed,  he 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  IV/r  43 1 

became  a  sight  to  see,  and — standing  now  on  one  foot  and 
now  upon  the  other,  now  trjdng  to  look  round  the  cab  on  this 
side,  now  on  that,  and  now  endeavoring  to  peep  over  the  top 
of  it,  as  it  went  dashing  in  among  the  carts  and  coaches — was 
from  head  to  heel  Newmarket. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Bailey's  governor  as  he  drove 
along,  fully  justified  that  enthusiastic  youth's  description  of 
him  to  the  wondering  Poll.  He  had  a  world  of  jet-black  shin- 
ing hair  upon  his  head,  upon  his  cheeks,  upon  his  chin,  upon 
his  upper  lip.  His  clothes,  symmetrically  made,  were  of  the 
newest  fashion  and  the  costliest  kind.  J'lowers  of  sold  and 
blue,  and  green  and  blushing  red,  were  on  his  waistcoat ;  pre- 
cious chains  apd  jewels  sparkled  on  his  breast ;  his  fingers, 
clogged  with  brilliant  rings,  were  as  unwieldly  as  summer  flies 
but  newly  rescued  froni  a  hone3'-pot.  The  daylight  mantled 
in  his  gleaming  hat  and  boots  as  in  a  polished  glass.  And  yet 
though  changed  his  name,  and  changed  his  outward  surface, 
it  was  Tigg.  Though  turned  and  twisted  upside  down,  and 
inside  out,  as  great  men  have  been  sometimes  known  to  be  ; 
though  no  longer  Montague  Tigg,  but  Tigg  Montague  ;  still  it 
was  Tigg ;  the  same  Satanic,  gallant,  military  Tigg.  The 
brass  was  burnished,  lacquered, -newly  stamped  ;  yet  itwas  the 
true  Tigg  metal  notwithstanding. 

Beside  him  sat  a  smiling  gentleman  of  less  pretentions 
and  of  business  looks,  whom  he  addressed  as  David.  Surely 
not  the  David  of  the — how  shall  it  be  phrased  i" — the  triumvi- 
rate of  golden  balls  1  Not  David,  tapster  of  the  Lombards' 
Arms  ?     Yes.     The  very  man. 

"  The  secretary's  salary,  Da\id,  '  said  Mr.  Montague,  "  the 
office  being  now  established,  is  eight  hundred  pounds  per  an- 
num, with  his  house-rent,  coals,  and  candles  free.  His  five- 
and-twenty  shares  he  holds,  of  course.     Is  that  enough  ?  " 

David  smiled  and  nodded,  and  coughed  behind  a  little 
locked  portfolio  which  he  carried,  with  an  air  that  proclaimed 
him  to  be  the  secretary  in  question. 

"  If  that's  enough,"  said  Montague,  "  I  will  propose  it  at 
the  Board  to-day,  in  my  capacity  as  chairman." 

The  secretary  smiled  again  ;  laughed,  indeed,  this  time  ; 
and  said,  rubbing  his  nose  slyly  with  one  end  of  the  portfolio  : 

"  It  was  a  capital  thought,  wasn't  it .?  " 

"  What  was  a  capital  thought,  David .? "  Mr.  Montague  in- 
quired. 

"  The  Anglo-Bengalee,"  tittered  the  secretary. 


432  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"The  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  As- 
surance Company,  is  rather  a  capital  concern,  I  hope,  David," 
said  Montague. 

"  Capital,  indeed  !  "  cried  the  secretary,  with  another  laugh 
— "in  one  sense." 

"  In  the  only  important  one,"  observ^ed  the  chairman  ; 
"  which  is  number  one,  David." 

"What,"  asked  the  secretary,  bursting  into  another  laugh, 
"  what  will  be  the  paid  up  capital,  according  to  the  next  pros- 
pectus 1 " 

"  A  figure  of  two,  and  as  many  oughts  after  it  as  the 
printer  can  get  into  the  same  line,"  replied  his  friend.  "  Ha, 
ha !  " 

At  this  they  both  laughed  ;  the  secretary  so  vehemently, 
that  in  kicking  up  his  feet,  he  kicked  the  apron  open,  and 
nearly  started  Cauliflower's  brother  into  an  oyster-shop  ;  not 
to  mention  Mr.  Bailey's  receiving  such  a  sudden  swing,  that 
he  held  on  for  a  moment,  quite  a  young  Fame,  by  one  strap 
and  no  legs. 

"  What  a  chap  you  are  ?  "  exclaimed  David  admiringly, 
when  this  little  alarm  had  subsided. 

"  Say,  genius,  David,  genius." 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul,  you  arc  a  genius  then,"  said  David. 
"  I  always  knew  you  had  the  gift  of  the  gab,  of  course  ;  but  I 
never  believed  you  were  half  the  man  you  are.     How  could  1  ?  " 

"  I  rise  with  circumstances,  David.  That's  a  point  of 
genius  in  itself,"  said  Tigg.  "  If  you  were  to  lose  a  hundred 
pound  wager  to  me  at  this  minute,  David,  and  were  to  pay  it 
(which  is  most  confoundedly  improbable),  I  should  rise,  in  a 
mental  point  of  view,  directly." 

It  is  due  to  Mr.  Tigg  to  say  that  he  had  really  risen  with 
his  opportunities  ;  peculating  on  a  grander  scale,  he  had  be- 
come a  grander  man  altogether. 

"  Ha,  ha!  "  cried  the  secretary-,  laying  his  hand,  with  grow- 
ing familiarity,  upon  the  chairman's  arm.  "  When  I  look  at 
you,  and  think  of  your  property  in  Bengal  being — ha,  ha, 
ha !— " 

The  half-expressed  idea  seemed  no  less  ludicrous  to  Mr. 
Tigg  than  to  his  friend,  for  he  laughed,  too,  heartily. 

" — Being,"  resumed  David,  "  being  amenable — your  prop- 
erty in  Bengal  being  amenable — to  all  claims  upon  the  com- 
pany ;  when  I  look  at  you  and  think  of  that,  you  might  tickle 
me  into  fits  by  waving  the  feather  of  a  pen  at  me.     Upon  my 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


433 


soul  you  might !  " 

"  It's  a  devilish  fine  property,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "  to 
be  amenable  to  any  claims.  The  preserve  of  Tigers  alone  is 
worth  a  mint  of  money,  David." 

David  could  only  reply  in  the  intervals  of  his  laughter. 
"  Oh,  what  a  chap  you  are  !  "  and  so  continued  to  laugh,  and 
hold  his  sides,  and  wipe  his  eyes,  for  some  time,  without  offer- 
ing any  other  observation. 

"A  capital  idea.-"  "  said  Tigg,  returning  after  a  time  to  his 
companion's  first  remark  :  "  no  doubt  it  was  a  capital  idea. 
It  was  my  idea." 

"  No,  no.  It  was  my  idea,"  said  David.  "  Hang  it,  let  a 
man  have  some-credit.  Didn't  I  say  to  you  that  I'd  saved  a 
few  pounds  ? —  " 

''You  said  !  Didn't  I  say  to  you,"  interposed  Tigg,  "that 
/had  come  into  a  few  pounds  ?  " 

"  Certainly  you  did,"  returned  David,  warmly,  "  but  that's 
not  the  idea.  Who  said,  that  if  we  put  the  money  together 
we  could  furnish  an  ofiice,  and  make  a  show  ?  " 

"  And  who  said,"  retorted  Mr.  Tigg,  "  that,  provided  we 
did  it  on  a  sufficiently  large  scale,  we  could  furnish  an  office 
and  make  a  show,  without  anv  monev  at  all  ?  Be  rational, 
and  just,  and  calm,  and  tell  me  whose  idea  was  that." 

"Why  there,"  David  was  obliged  to  confess,  "you  had  the 
advantage  of  me,  I  admit.  But  I  don't  put  myself  on  a  level 
with  you.     I  only  want  a  little  credit  in  the  business." 

"  All  the  credit  you  desen-e  you  have,"  said  Tigg.  "  The 
plain  work  of  the  company,  David — figures,  books,  circulars, 
advertisements,  pen,  ink  and  paper,  sealing-wax  and  wafers — 
is  admirably  done  by  you.  You  are  a  first-rate  groveller.  I 
don't  dispute  it.  But  the  ornamental  department,  David  3 
the  inventive  and  poetical  department —  " 

"  Is  entirely  yours,"  said  his  friend.  "  No  question  of  it. 
But  with  such  a  swell  turn-out  as  this,  and  all  the  handsome 
things  you've  got  about  you,  and  the  life  you  lead,  I  mean  to 
say  it's  a  precious  comfortable  department  too." 

"  Does  it  gain  the  purpose  ?  Is  it  Anglo-Bengalee  ?  " 
asked  Tigg. 

"Yes/'  said  David. 

"  Could  you  undertake  it  yourself?  "  demanded  Tigg. 

"  No,"  said  David. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Tigg.  "Then  be  contented  with 
your  station  and  vour  profits,  David,  mv  fine  fellow,  and  bless 

28 


434 


MARTIN  CHUZZIEWIT. 


the  day  that  made  us  acquainted  across  the  counter  of  our 
common  uncle,  for  it  was  a  golden  day  to  you." 

It  will  have  been  already  gathered  from  the  conversation 
of  these  worthies,  that  they  were  embarked  in  an  enterprise 
of  some  magnitude,  in  which  they  addressed  the  public  in 
general  from  the  strong  position  of  having  everything  to  gain, 
and  nothing  at  all  to  lose  ;  and  which,  based  upon  this  great 
principle,  was  thriving  pretty  comfortably. 

The  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assur- 
ance Company,  started  into  existence  one  morning,  not  an 
Infant  Institution,  but  a  Grown-up  Company  running  along  at 
a  great  pace,  and  doing  business  right  and  left  :  with  a 
"  branch  '"  in  a  first  tioor  over  a  tailor's  at  the  West-end  of 
the  town,  and  main  offices  in  a  new  street  in  the  City,  com- 
prising the  upper  part  of  a  spacious  house,  resplendent  in 
stucco  and  plate-glass,  with  wire  blinds  in  all  the  windows, 
and  "  Anglo-Bengalee  "  worked  into  the  pattern  of  every  one 
of  them.  On  the  door-post  was  painted  again  in  large  letters, 
"  Offices  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life 
Assurance  Company,"  and  on  the  door  was  a  large  brass 
plate  with  the  same  inscription,  always  kept  very  bright,  as 
courting  inquiry  ;  staring  the  City  out  of  countenance  after 
office  hours  on  working  days,  and  all  day  long  on  Sundays ; 
and  looking  bolder  than  the  Bank.  Within,  the  offices  were 
newly  plastered,  newly  painted,  newly  papered,  newly  coun- 
terecl,  newly  floor-clothed,  newly  tabled,  newly  chaired,  newly 
fitted-up  in  every  way,  with  goods  that  were  substantial  and 
expensive,  and  designed  (like  the  company)  to  last.  Business  ! 
Look  at  the  green  ledgers  with  red  backs,  like  strong  cricket- 
balls  beaten  flat ;  the  court-guides,  directories,  day-books, 
almanacs,  letter-boxes,  weighing-machines  for  letters,  rows  of 
fire-buckets  for  dashing  out  a  conflagration  in  its  first  spark, 
and  saving  the  immense  w'ealth  in  notes  and  bonds  belonging 
to  the  company ;  look  at  the  iron  safes,  the  clock,  the  office 
seal — in  its  capacious  self,  security  for  anything.  Solidity  ! 
Look  at  the  massi\'e  blocks  of  marble  in  the  chimney-pieces, 
and  the  gorgeous  parapet  on  the  top  of  the  house  !  Publicity  ! 
Why,  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assurance 
Company  is  painted  on  the  very  coal-scuttles.  It  is  repeated 
at  every  turn  until  the  eyes  are  dazzled  with  it,  and  the  head 
is  giddy.  It  is  engraved  upon  the  top  of  all  the  letter  paper, 
and  it  makes  a  scroll-work  round  the  seal,  and  it  shines  out 
of  the  porter's  buttons,  and  it  is  repeated  twenty  times  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


435 


every  circular  and  public  notice  wherein  one  David  Crimple, 
Esquire,  Secretary  and  resident  Director  takes  the  liberty  of 
inviting  your  attention  to  the  accompanying  statement  of  the 
advantages  offered  by  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan 
and  Life  Assurance  Company,  and  fully  proves  to  you  that 
any  connection  on  your  part  with  that  establishment  must 
result  in  a  perpetual  Christmas  Box  and  constantly  increasing 
Bonus  to  yourself,  and  that  nobody  can  run  any  risk  by  the 
transaction  except  the  office,  which,  in  its  great  liberality,  is 
pretty  sure  to  lose.  And  this,  David  Crimple,  Esquire, 
submits  to  you  (and  the  odds  are  heavy  you  belie^'e  him),  is 
the  best  guarantee  that  can  reasonably  be  suggested  by  the 
Board  of  Management  for  its  permanence  and  stability. 

This  gentleman's  name,  by  the  way,  had  been  originally 
Crimp  ;  but  as  the  word  was  susceptible  of  an  awkward  con- 
struction and  might  be  misrepresented,  he  had  altered  it  to 
Crimple. 

Lest  with  all  these  proofs  and  confirmations,  any  man 
should  be  suspicious  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested 
Loan  and  Life  Assurance  Company  ;  should  doubt  in  tiger, 
cab,  or  person,  Tigg  Montague,  Esquire  (of  I^all  Mall  and 
Bengali)  or  any  other  name  in  the  imaginative  List  of 
Directors  ;  there  was  a  porter  on  the  premises — a  wonderful 
creature,  in  a  vast  red  waistcoat  and  a  short-tailed  pepper- 
and-salt  coat — who  carried  more  conviction  to  the  minds  of 
skeptics  than  the  whole  establishment  without  him.  No  con- 
fidence existed  between  him  and  the  Directorship  ;  nobody 
knew  where  he  had  served  last ;  no  character  or  explanation 
had  been  given  .or  required.  No  questions  had  been  asked 
on  either  side.  This  mysterious  being,  relying  solely  on  his 
figure,  had  applied  for  the  situation,  and  had  been  instantly 
engaged  on  his  own  terms.  They  were  high  ;  but  he  knew, 
doubtless,  that  no  man  could  carry  such  an  extent  of  waistcoat 
as  himself,  and  felt  the  full  value  of  his  capacity  to  such  an 
institution.  When  he  sat  upon  a  seat  erected  for  him  in  a 
corner  of  the  office,  with  his  glazed  hat  hanging  on  a  peg  over 
his  head,  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  the  respectability  of  the 
concern.  It  went  on  doubling  itself  with  every  square  inch 
of  his  red  waistcoat  until,  like  the  problem  of  the  nails  in  the 
horse's  shoes,  the  total  became  enormous.  People  had  been 
known  to  apply  to  effect  an  insurance  on  their  lives  for  a 
thousand  pounds,  and  looking  at  him,  to  beg,  before  the  form 
of  proposal  was  filled  up,  that  it  might  be  made  two.     And 


436  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

yet  he  was  not  a  giant.  His  coat  was  rather  small  than  other- 
wise. The  whole  charm  was  in  his  waistcoat.  Respectability, 
competence,  property  in  Bengal  or  anywhere  else,  responsi- 
bility to  any  amount  on  the  part  of  the  company  that  employed 
him,  were  all  expressed  in  that  one  garment. 

Rival  offices  had  endeavored  to  lure  him  away  ;  Lombard 
Street  itself  had  beckoned  to  him  ;  rich  companies  had 
whispered  "  Be  a  Beadle  !  "  but  he  still  continued  faithful  to 
the  Anglo-Bengalee.  Whether  he  was  a  deep  rogue,  or  a 
stately  simpleton,  it  was  impossible  to  make  out,  but  he 
appeared  to  believe  in  the  Anglo-Bengalee.  He  was  grave 
with  imaginary  cares  of  office  ;  and  having  nothing  whatever 
to  do,  and  something  less  to  take  care  of,  would  look  as  if  the 
pressure  of  his  numerous  duties,  and  a  sense  of  the  treasure 
in  the  company's  strong-room,  made  him  a  solemn  and  a 
thoughtful  man. 

As  the  cabriolet  drove  up  to  the  door,  this  officer  appeared 
bare-headed  on  the  pavement,  cr^'ing  aloud  "  Room  for  the 
chairman,  room  for  the  chairman,  if  you  please ! "  much  to 
the  admiration  of  the  bystanders,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
had  their  attention  directed  to  the  Anglo  Bengalee  Company 
thenceforth,  by  that  means.  Mr.  Tigg  leaped  gracefully  out, 
followed  by  the  Managing  Director  (who  was  by  this  time 
very  distant  and  respectful),  and  ascended  the  stairs,  still 
preceded  by  the  porter,  who  cried  as  he  went,  "  By  your 
leave  there  !  by  your  leave  !  The  Chairman  of  the  Board, 
Gentle — men  !  "  In  like  manner,  but  in  a  still  more  sten- 
torian voice,  he  ushered  the  chairman  through  the  public 
office,  where  some  humble  clients  were  transacting  business, 
into  an  awful  chamber,  labelled  Board-room,  the  door  of 
which  sanctuary  immediately  closed,  and  screened  the  great 
capitalist  from  vulgar  eyes. 

The  board-room  had  a  Turkey  carpet  in  it,  a  sideboard, 
a  portrait  of  Tigg  Montague,  Esquire,  as  chairman  ;  a  very 
imposing  chair  of  office,  garnished  with  an  ivory  hammer  and 
a  little  hand-bell ;  and  a  long  table,  set  out  at  intervals  with 
sheets  of  blotting-paper,  foolscap,  clean  pens,  and  inkstands. 
The  chairman  having  taken  his  seat  with  great  solemnity,  the 
secretary  supported  him  on  his  right  hand,  and  the  porter 
stood  bolt  upright  behind  them,  forming  a  warm  background 
of  waistcoat.  This  was  the  board :  everything  else  being  a 
light-hearted  little  fiction. 

"  Bullamy  !  "  said  Mr.  Tigg. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


437 


(( 


Sir  !  "  replied  the  Porter. 

"  Let  the  Medical  Officer  know,  with  my  compliments,  that 
I  wish  to  see  him." 
■  Bullamy  cleared  his  throat,  and  bustled  out  into  the  office, 
crying  "  The  Chairman  of  the  Board  wishes  to  see  the  Medical 
Officer.  By  your  leave  there  !  By  your  leave  !  "  He  soon 
returned  with  the  gentleman  in  question ;  and  at  both  open- 
ings of  the  board-room  door — at  his  coming  in  and  at  his 
going  out — simple  clients  were  seen  to  stretch  their  necks  and 
stand  upon  their  toes,  thirsting  to  catch  the  slightest  glimpse 
of  that  mysterious  chamber. 

''  Jobling,  my  dear  friend  !  "  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  how  are  you  ? 
Bullamy,  wait  O^Litside.  Crlmple,  don't  leave  us.  Jobling,  my 
good  fellow,  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"  And  how  are  you,  Mr.  Montague,  eh  ?  "  said  the  Medical 
Officer,  throwing  himself  luxuriously  into  an  easy-chair  (they 
were  all  easy-chairs  in  the  board-room),  and  taking  a  hand- 
some gold  snuffbox  from  the  pocket  of  his  black  satin  waist- 
coat. "  How  are  you  ?  A  little  worn  with  business,  eh  ?  If 
so,  rest.  A  little  feverish  from  wine,  humph  ?  If  so,  water. 
Nothing  at  all  the  matter,  and  quite  comfortable  .-'  Then  take 
some  lunch.  A  very  wholesome  thing  at  this  time  of  day  to 
strengthen  the  gastric  juices  with  lunch,  Mr.  Montague." 

The  Medical  Officer  (he  was  the  same  medical  officer  who 
had  followed  poor  old  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  to  the  grave,  and 
who  had  attended  Mrs.  Gamp's  patient  at  the  Bull)  smiled  in 
saying  these  words  ;  and  casually  added,  as  he  brushed  some 
grains  of  snuff  from  his  shirt-frill,  "  I  always  take  it  myself 
about  this  time  of  day,  do  you  know  !  " 

"  Bullamy !  "  said  the  Chairman,  ringing  the  little  bell. 

"  Sir  !  " 

"  Lunch." 

"  Not  on  my  account,  I  hope  ?  "  said  the  doctor.  "  You 
are  very  good.  Thank  you.  I'm  quite  ashamed.  Ha,  ha  ! 
if  I  had  been  a  sharp  practitioner,  Mr.  Montague,  I  shouldn't 
have  mentioned  it  without  a  fee  ;  for  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
my  dear  sir,  that  if  you  don't  make  a  point  of  taking  lunch, 
you'll  very  soon  come  under  my  hands.  Allow  me  to  illustrate 
this.     In  Mr.  Crimple's  leg — " 

The  resident  Director  gave  an  involuntary  start,  for  the 
doctor,  in  the  heat  of  his  demonstration,  caught  it  up  and 
laid  it  across  his  own,  as  if  he  were  going  to  take  it  off,  then 
and  there. 


438  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  In  Mr.  Crimple's  leg,  you'll  obser\'e,"  pursued  the  doctor, 
turning  back  his  cuffs  and  spanning  the  limb  with  both  hands, 
"  where  Mr.  Crimple's  knee  fits  into  the  socket,  here,  there  is 
— that  is  to  say,  between  the  bone  and  the  socket — a  certain 
quantity  of  animal  oil." 

"  What  do  you  pick  my  leg  out  for?  "  said  Mr.  Crimple, 
looking  with  something  of  an  anxious  expression  at  his  limb.- 
"  It's  the  same  with  other  legs,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Never  you  mind,  my  good  sir,"  returned  the  doctor, 
shaking  his  head,  "  whether  it  is  the  same  with  other  legs,  or 
not  the  same." 

"  But  I  do  mind,"  said  David. 

"  I  take  a  particular  case,  Mr.  Montague,"  returned  the 
doctor,  "  as  illustrating  my  remark,  you  observe.  In  this 
portion  of  Mr.  Crimple's  leg,  sir,  there  is  a  certain  amount  of 
animal  oil.  In  eveiy  one  of  Mr.  Crimple's  joints,  sir,  there 
is  more  or  less  of  the  same  deposit.  Very  good.  If  Mr. 
Crimple  neglects  his  meals,  or  fails  to  take  his  proper  quantity 
of  rest,  that  oil  wanes,  and  becomes  exhausted.  What  is  the 
consequence.''  Mr.  Crimple's  bones  sink  down  into  their 
sockets,  sir,  and  Mr.  Crimple  becomes  a  weazen,  puny, 
stunted,  miserable  man  !  " 

The  doctor  let  Mr.  Crimple's  leg  fall  suddenly,  as  if  he 
were  already  in  that  agreeable  condition,  turned  down  his  wrist- 
bands again,  and  looked  triumphantly  at  the  chairman. 

"  We  know  a  few  secrets  of  nature  in  our  profession,  sir," 
said  the  doctor.  "  Of  course  we  do.  We  study  for  that ;  we 
pass  the  Hall  and  the  College  for  that  ;  and  we  take  our 
station  in  society  by  that.  It's  extraordinary  how  little  is 
known  on  these  subjects  generally.  Where  do  you  suppose, 
now  " — the  doctor  closed  one  eye,  as  he  leaned  back  smilingly 
in  his  chair,  and  formed  a  triangle  with  his  hands,  of  which 
his  two  thumbs  composed  the  base — "  where  do  you  suppose 
Mr.  Crimple's  stomach  is  .''  " 

Mr.  Crimple,  more  agitated  than  before,  clapped  his  hand 
immediately  below  his  waistcoat. 

"-Not  at  all,"  cried  the  doctor;  "not  at  all.  Quite  a 
popular  mistake  !     My  good  sir,  you're  altogether  deceived." 

"  I  feel  it  there,  when  it's  out  of  order ;  that's  all  I  know," 
said  Crimple. 

"You  think  you  do,"  replied  the  doctor;  "but  science 
knows  better.  There  was  a  patient  of  mine  once  " — touching 
one  of  the  many  mourning  rings  upon  his  fingers,  and  slightly 


■MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  435 

bowing  his  head — "  a  gentleman  who  did  me  the  honor  to 
make  a  very  handsome  mention  of  me  in  his  will — '  in  testi- 
mony,'as  he  was  pleased  to  say,  'of  the  unremitting  zeal, 
talent,  and  attention  of  my  friend  and  medical  attendant, 
John  Jobling,  Esquire,  M.R.C.S.,' — who  was  so  overcome  by 
the  idea  of  having  all  his  life  labored  under  an  erroneous 
view  of  the  locality  of  this  important  organ,  that  when  I  as- 
sured him,  on  my  professional  reputation,  he  was  mistaken, 
he  burst  into  tears,  put  out  his  hand,  and  said,  '  Jobling,  God 
bless  you  ! '  Immediately  afterwards  he  became  speechless, 
and  was  ultimatelv  buried  at  Brixton." 

"  By  your  leave  there !  "  cried  Bullamy,  without.  "  By 
your  leave  !     Refreshment  for  the  Board-room  !  " 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  doctor,  jocularly,  as  he  rubbed  his  hands 
and  drew  his  chair  nearer  to  the  table.  "  The  true  Life  As- 
surance, Mr.  Montague.  The  best  Policy  in  the  world,  my 
dear  sir.  We  should  be  provident,  and  eat  and  drink  when- 
ever we  can.     Eh,  Mr.  Crimple  ?  " 

The  resident  Director  acquiesced  rather  sulkily,  as  if  the 
gratification  of  replenishing  his  stomach  had  been  impaired 
by  the  unsettlement  of  his  preconceived  opinions  in  reference 
to  its  situation.  But  the  appearance  of  the  porter  and  under 
porter  with  a  tray  covered  with  a  snow-white  cloth,  which, 
being  thrown  back,  displayed  a  pair  of  cold  roast  fowls, 
flanked  by  some  potted  meats  and  a  cool  salad,  quickly  re- 
stored his  good  humor.  It  was  enhanced  still  further  by  the 
arrival  of  a  bottle  of  excellent  madeira,  and  another  of  cham- 
pagne ;  and  he  soon  attacked  the  repast  with  an  appetite 
scarcely  inferior  to  that  of  the  medical  officer. 

The  lunch  was  handsomely  served,  with  a  profusion  of  rich 
glass,  plate,  and  china,  which  seemed  to  denote  that  eating 
and  drinking  on  a  showy  scale  formed  no  unimportant  item  in 
the  business  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Directorship.  As  it  pro- 
ceeded, the  Medical  Officer  grew  more  and  more  joyous  and 
red-faced,  insomuch  that  every  mouthful  he  ate,  and  every 
drop  of  wine  he  swallowed,  seemed  to  impart  new  lustre  to  his 
eyes,  and  to  light  up  new  sparks  in  his  nose  and  forehead. 

In  certain  quarters  of  the  City  and  its  neighborhood,  i\Ir. 
Jobling  was,  as  we  have  already  seen  in  some  measure,  a  very 
popular  character.  He  had  a  portentously  sagacious  chin, 
and  a  pompous  voice,  with  a  rich  huskiness  in  some  of  its 
tones  that  w-ent  directly  to  the  heart,  like  a  ray  of  light  shining 
through  the  ruddy  medium  of  choice  old  burgundy.     His  neck- 


440  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

kerchief  and  shirt-frill  were  ever  of  the  whitest,  his  clothes  of 
the  blackest  and  sleekest,  his  gold  watch-chain  of  the  heaviest, 
and  his  seals  of  the  largest.  His  boots,  which  were  always  of 
the  brightest,  creaked  as  he  walked.  Perhaps  he  could  shake 
his  head,  rub  his  hands,  or  warm  himself  before  a  fire,  better 
than  any  man  alive  ;  and  he  had  a  peculiar  way  of  smacking 
his  lips  and  saying,  "  Ah  !  "  at  inten^als  while  patients  detailed 
their  symptoms,  which  inspired  great  confidence.  It  seemed 
to  express,  "  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say  better  than  you 
do  ;  but  go  on,  go  on."  As  he  talked  on  all  occasions  whether 
he  had  anything  to  say  or  not,  it  was  unanimously  observed  of 
him  that  he  was  "full  of  anecdote  ;"  and  his  experience  and 
profit  from  it  were  considered,  for  the  same  reason,  to  be 
something  much  too  extensive  for  description.  His  female 
patients  could  never  praise  him  too  highly ;  and  the  coldest 
of  his  male  admirers  would  always  say  this  for  him  to  their 
friends,  "  that  whatever  Jobling's  professional  skill  might  be 
(and  it  could  not  be  denied  that  he  had  a  very  high  reputa- 
tion), he  was  one  of  the  most  comfortable  fellows  you  ever 
saw  in  your  life  !  " 

Jobling  was  for  many  reasons,  and  not  last  in  the  list  be- 
cause his  connection  lay  principally  among  tradesmen  and 
their  families,  exactly  the  sort  of  person  whom  the  Anglo- 
Bengalee  Company  wanted  for  a  medical  officer.  But  Job- 
ling  was  far  too  knowing  to  connect  himself  with  the  com- 
pany in  any  closer  ties  than  as  a  paid  (and  well  paid)  func- 
tionary, or  to  allow  his  connection  to  be  misunderstood 
abroad,  if  he  could  help  it.  Hence  he  always  stated  the  case 
to  an  inquiring  patient,  after  this  manner  : 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  with  regard  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee, 
my  information,  you  see,  is  limited  :  ver^-  limited.  I  am  the 
medical  officer,  in  consideration  of  a  certain  monthly  pay- 
ment. The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire  ;  Bis  dat  qui  cito  dat " 
— ("  Classical  scholar,  Jobling  !  "  thinks  the  patient,  "  well- 
read  man  !  ") — "  and  I  receive  it  regularly.  Therefore  I  am 
bound,  so  far  as  my  own  knowledge  goes,'  to  speak  well  of 
the  establishment."  ("  Nothing  can  be  fairer  than  Jobling's 
conduct,"  thinks  the  patient,  who  has  just  paid  Jobling's  bill 
himself.)  "  If  you  put  any  question  to  me,  my  dear  friend," 
says  the  doctor,  "  touching  the  responsibility  or  capital  of  the 
company,  there  I  am  at  fault ;  for  I  have  no  head  for  figures, 
and  not  being  a  shareholder,  am  delicate  of  showing  any 
curiosity  whatever  on  the  subject.   .  Delicacy — your  amiable 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  441 

lady  will  agree  with  me  I  am  sure — should  be  one  of  the  first 
characteristics  of  a  medical  man."  (  "  Nothing  can  be  finer 
or  more  gentlemanly  than  Jobling's  feeling,"  thinks  the  pa- 
tient.) "  Very  good,  my  dear  sir,  so  the  matter  stands.  You 
don't  know  Mr.  Montague  ?  I'm  sorry  for  it.  A  remarkably 
handsome  man,  and  quite  the  gentleman  in  every  respect. 
Property,  I  am  told,  in  India.  House  and  eveiything  belong- 
ing to  him,  beautiful.  Costly  furniture  on  the  most  elegant 
and  lavish  scale.  And  pictures,  which,  even  in  an  anatomi- 
cal point  of  view,  are  per — fection.  In  case  you  should  ever 
think  of  doing  anything  with  the  company,  I'll  pass  you,  you 
may  depend  upon  it.  I  can  conscientiously  report  you  a 
healthy  subject."  If  I  understand  any  man's  constitution,  it  is 
yours ;  and  this  little  indisposition  has  done  him  more  good, 
ma'am,"  says  the  doctor,  turning  to  the  patient's  wife,  "than 
if  he  had  swallowed  the  contents  of  half  the  nonsensical  bot- 
tles in  my  surger}-.  For  they  are  nonsense — to  tell  the  hon- 
est truth,  one  half  of  them  are  nonsense — compared  with  such 
a  constitution  as  his  !  "  (  "  Jobling  is  the  most  friendly  crea- 
ture I  ever  met  with  in  my  life,"  thinks  the  patient ;  "  and 
upon  my  word  and  honor,  I'll  consider  of  it  !  ") 

"  Commission  to  you,  doctor,  on  four  new  policies,  and  a 
loan  this  morning,  eh?  "  said  Crimple  looking,  when  they  had 
finished  lunch,  over  some  papers  brought  in  by  the  porter. 
"  Well  done  !  " 

"Jobling,  my  dear  friend,"   said  Tigg,  "long  life  to  you." 

"No,  no.  Nonsense.  Upon  my  word  I've  no  right  to 
draw  the  commission,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  haven't  really.  It's 
picking  your  pocket.  I  don't  recommend  anybody  here.  I 
only  say  what  I  know.  My  patients  ask  me  what  I  know, 
and  I  tell  'em  what  I  know.  Nothing  else.  Caution  is  my 
weak  side,  that's  the  truth  \  and  always  was  from  a  boy.  That 
is,"  said  the  doctor,  filling  his  glass,  "  caution  in  behalf  of 
other  people.  Whether  I  would  repose  confidence  in  this 
company  myself,  if  I  had  not  been  paying  money  elsewhere 
for  many  years — that's  quite  another  question." 

He  tried  to  look  as  if  there  were  no  doubt  about  it ;  but 
feeling  that  he  did  it  but  indifferently,  changed  the  tiieme  and 
praised  the  wine. 

"  Talking  of  wine,"  said  the  doctor,  "  reminds  me  of  one 
of  the  finest  glasses  of  light  old  port  I  ever  drank  in  my  life  ; 
and  that  was  at  a  funeral.  You  have  not  seen  anything  of — of 
that  party,  Mr.  Montague,  have  you  ?  "  handing  him  a  card. 


442  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  He  is  not  buried,  I  hope  ?  "  said  Tigg,  as  he  took  it. 
"  The  honor  of  his  company  is  not  requested  if  he  is." 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  laughed  the  doctor.  "  No  ;  not  quite.  He 
was  honorably  connected  with  that  very  occasion  though." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Tigg,  smoothing  his  mustache,  as  he  cast 
his  eyes  upon  the  name.  "  I  recollect.  No.  He  has  not 
been  here." 

The  words  were  on  his  lips,  when  Bullamy  entered,  and 
presented  a  card  to  the  Medical  Officer. 

"  Talk  of  the  what's  his  name,"  observed  the  doctor  rising. 

"  And  he's  sure  to  appear,  eh  }  "  said  Tigg. 

"Why,  no,  Mr.  Montague,  no,"  returned  the  doctor.  "We 
will  not  say  that  in  the  present  case,  for  this  gentleman  is  very 
far  from  it." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  retorted  Tigg.  "  So  much  the 
more  adaptable  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee.  Bullamy,  clear  the 
table  and  take  the  things  out  by  the  other  door.  Mr.  Crim- 
ple,  business." 

"  Shall  I  introduce  him  .''  "  asked  Jobling. 

"  I  shall  be  eternally  delighted,"  answered  Tigg,  kissing 
his  hand  and  smiling  sweetly. 

The  doctor  disappeared  into  the  outer  office,  and  imme- 
diately returned  with  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

"Mr.  Montague,"  said  Jobling.  "Allow  me.  My  friend 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  My  dear  friend — our  chairman.  Now  do 
you  know,"  he  added,  checking  himself  with  infinite  policy, 
and  looking  round  with  a  smile,  "  that's  a  very  singular  in- 
stance of  the  force  of  example.  It  really  is  a  very  remarkable 
instance  of  the  force  of  example.  I  say  our  chairman.  Why 
do  I  say  our  chairman  ?  Because  he  is  not  my  chairman,  you 
know.  I  have  no  connection  with  the  company,  farther  than 
giving  them,  for  a  certain  fee  and  reward,  my  poor  opinion  as 
a  medical  man,  precisely  as  I  may  give  it  any  day  to  Jack 
Noakes  or  Tom  Styles.  Then  why  do  I  say  our  chairman  1 
Simply  because  I  hear  the  phrase  constantly  repeated  about 
me.  Such  is  the  involuntary  operation  of  the  mental  faculty 
in  the  imitative  biped  man.  Mr.  Crimple,  I  believe  you  never 
take  snuff  ?     Injudicious.     You  should." 

Pending  these  remarks  on  the  part  of  the  doctor,  and  the 
lengthened  and  sonorous  pinch  with  which  he  followed  them 
up,  Jonas  took  a  seat  at  the  board,  as  ungainly  a  man  as 
ever  he  has  been  within  the  reader's  knowledge.  It  is  too 
common  with  all  of  us,  but  it  is  especially  in  the  nature  of  a 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


443 


mean  mind,  to  be  overawed  by  fine  clothes  and  fine  furniture. 
Tiiey  had  a  very  decided  influence  on  Jonas. 

"  Now  you  two  gentlemen  have  business  to  discuss,  I 
know,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  your  time  is  precious.  So  is 
mine  ;  for  several  lives  are  waiting  for  me  in  the  next  room, 
and  I  have  a  round  of  visits  to  make  after — after  I  have 
taken  'em.  Having  had  the  happiness  to  introduce  you  to 
each  other,  I  may  go  about  my  business.  Good-by.  But 
allow  me,  Mr.  Montague,  before  I  go,  to  say  this  of  my  friend 
who  sits  beside  you  :  That  gentleman  has  done  more,  sir," 
rapping  his  snuff-box  solemnly,  "  to  reconcile  me  to  human 
nature,  than  any  man  alive  or  dead.     Good-by  !  " 

With  these  words  Jobling  bolted  abruptly  out  of  the  room, 
and  proceeded  in  his  own  official  department,  to  impress  the 
lives  in  waiting  with  a  sense  of  his  keen  conscientiousness  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  the  great  difficulty  of  getting 
into  the  Anglo-Bengalee  ;  by  feeling  their  pulses,  looking  at 
their  tongues,  listening  at  their  ribs,  poking  them  in  the  chest, 
and  so  forth  ;  though,  if  he  didn't  well  know  beforehand  that 
whatever  kind  of  lives  they  were,  the  Anglo-Bengalee  would 
accept  them  readily,  he  was  far  from  being  the  Jobling  that 
his  friend  considered  him  ;  and  w-as  not  the  original  Jobling, 
but  a  spurious  imitation. 

Mr.  Crimple  also  departed  on  the  business  of  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  and  Tigg  were  left  alone. 

"  I  learn  from  our  friend,"  said  Tigg,  drawing  his  chair 
towards  Jonas  with  a  winning  ease  of  manner,  "that  you  have 
been  thinking — " 

"Oh!  Ecod  then  he'd  no  right  to  say  so,"  cried  Jonas, 
interrupting.  "  I  didn't  tell  him  my  thoughts.  If  he  took  it 
into  his  head  that  I  was  coming  here  for  such  or  such  a  pur- 
pose, why,  that's  his  look-out.  I  don't  stand  committed  by 
that." 

Jonas  said  this  offensively  enough  ;  for  over  and  above  the 
habitual  distrust  of  his  character,  it  was  in  his  nature  to  seek 
to  revenge  himself  on  the  fine  clothes  and  the  fine  furniture, 
in  exact  proportion  as  he  had  been  unable  to  withstand  their 
influence. 

"  If  I  come  here  to  ask  a  question  or  two,  and  get  a  docu- 
ment or  two  to  consider  of,  I  don't  bind  myself  to  anything. 
Let's  understand  that,  you  know,"  said  Jonas. 

"  My  dear  fellow !  "  cried  Tigg,  clapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  "  I  applaud  your  frankness.     If  men  like  you  and 


444 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


I  speak  openly  at  first,  all  possible  misunderstanding  is 
avoided.  Why  should  I  disguise  what  you  know  so  well,  but 
what  the  crowd  never  dream  of  ?  We  companies  are  all  birds 
of  prey  :  mere  birds  of  prey.  The  only  question  is,  whether, 
in  serving  our  own  turn,  we  can  serve  yours  too,  whether  in 
double-lining  our  own  nest,  we  can  put  a  single  lining  into 
yours.  Oh,  you're  in  our  secret.  You're  behind  the  scenes. 
We'll  make  a  merit  of  dealing  plainly  with  you,  when  we  know 
we  can't  help  it." 

It  was  remarked,  on  the  first  introduction  of  Mr.  Jonas 
into  these  pages,  that  there  is  a  simplicity  of  cunning  no  less 
than  a  simplicity  of  innocence,  and  that  in  all  matters  involving 
a  faith  in  knavery,  he  was  the  most  credulous  of  men.  If  Mr. 
Tigg  had  preferred  any  claim  to  high  and  honorable  dealing, 
Jonas  would  have  suspected  him  though  he  had  been  a  very 
model  of  probity  ;  but  when  he  gave  utterance  to  Jonas's  own 
thoughts  of  everything  and  everybody,  Jonas  began  to  feel 
that  he  was  a  pleasant  fellow,  and  one  to  be  talked  to  freely. 

He  changed  his  position  in  the  chair  ;  not  for  a  less  awk- 
ward, but  for  a  more  boastful  attitude  ;  and  smiling  in  his 
miserable  conceit,  rejoined  ; 

"  You  an't  a  bad  man  of  business,  Mr.  Montague.  You 
know  how  to  set  about  it,  I  ivill  say." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tigg,  nodding  confidentially,  and  showing 
his  white  teeth  :  "  we  are  not  children,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit ;  we 
are  grown  men,  I  hope." 

Jonas  assented,  and  said  after  a  short  silence,  first  spread- 
ing out  his  legs,  and  sticking  one  arm  akimbo  to  show  how 
perfectly  at  home  he  was, 

"  The  truth  is—" 

"  Don't  say,  the  truth,"  interposed  Tigg,  with  another  grin. 
"It's  so  like  humbug." 

Greatly  charmed  by  this,  Jonas  began  again. 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it,  is — " 

"  Better,"  muttered  Tigg.     "  Much  better  !  " 

" — That  I  didn't  consider  myself  very  well  used  by  one  or 
two  of  the  old  companies  in  some  negotiations  I  have  had 
with  'em.  Once  had,  I  mean.  They  started  objections  they 
had  no  right  to  start,  and  put  questions  they  had  no  right  to 
put,  and  carried  things  much  too  high  for  my  taste." 

As  he  made  these  observations  he  cast  down  his  eyes,  and 
looked  curiously  at  the  carpet.  Mr.  Tigg  looked  curiously  at 
him. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


445 


He  made  so  long  a  pause,  that  Tigg  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  said,  in  his  pleasantest  manner  : 

"  Take  a  glass  of  wine." 
No,  no,"  returned  Jonas,  with  a  cunning  shake  of  the 
head  ;  "  none  of  that,  thankee.     No  wine  over  business.     All 
very  well  for  you,  but  it  wouldn't  do  for  me." 

"  What  an  old  hand  you  are,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  "  said  Tigg, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and  leering  at  him  through  his  half- 
shut  eyes. 

Jonas  shook  his  head  again,  as  much  to  say,  "  You're 
right  there  ;  "  and  then  resumed,  jocosely  : 

"Not  such  an  old  hand,  cither,  but  that  I've  been  and  got 
married.  That^s  rather  green,  you'll  say.  Perhaps  it  is, 
especially  as  she's  young.  But  one  never  knows  what  may 
happen  to  these  women,  so  I'm  thinking  of  insuring  her  life. 
It  is  but  fair,  you  know,  that  a  man  should  secure  some  con- 
solation in  case  of  meeting  with  such  a  loss." 

"  If  anything  can  console  him  under  such  heart-breaking 
circumstances,"  murmured  Tigg,  with  his  eyes  shut  up  as 
before. 

"  Exactly,"  returned  Jonas  ;  "if  anything  can.  Now,  sup- 
posing I  did  it  here,  I  should  do  it  cheap,  1  know,  and  easy, 
without  bothering  her  about  it  ;  which  I'd  much  rather  not  do, 
for  it's  just  in  a  woman's  way  to  take  it  into  her  head,  if  you 
talk  to  her  about  such  things,  that  she's  going  to  die  di- 
rectly." 

"  So  it  is,"  cried  Tigg,  kissing  his  hand  in  honor  of  the 
sex.  "  You're  quite  right.  Sweet,  silly,  fluttering  little  sim- 
pletons !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Jonas,  "on  that  account,  you  know,  and 
because  offence  has  been  given  me  in  other  quarters,  I 
wouldn't  mind  patronizing  this  Company.  But  I  want  to 
know  what  sort  of  security  there  is  for  the  Company's  going 
on.     That's  the — " 

"  Not  the  truth  ?  "  cried  Tigg,  holding  up  his  jewelled 
hand.     "  Don't  use  that  Sunday  School  expression,  please  !  " 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it,"  said  Jonas.  "The  long 
and  the  short  of  it  is,  what's  the  security .'' " 

"  The  paid-up  capital,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Tigg,  referring 
to  some  papers  on  the  table,  "  is,  at  this  present  moment — " 

"  Oh  !  I  understand  all  about  paid-up  capitals,  you  know," 
said  Jonas. 

"  You  do  1  "  cried  Tigg,  stopping  short. 


446  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  should  hope  so." 

He  turned  the  papers  down  again,  and  moving  nearer  to 
him,  said  in  his  ear  : 

"  I  know  you  do.     I  know  you  do.     Look  at  me  !  " 

It  was  not  much  in  Jonas's  way  to  look  straight  at  anybody  ; 
but  thus  requested,  he  made  shift  to  take  a  tolerable  survey 
of  the  chairman's  features.  The  chairman  fell  back  a  little,  to 
give  him  the  better  opportunity. 

"  You  know  me  ?  "  he  inquired,  elevating  his  eyebrows. 
"  You  recollect  ?      You've  seen  me  before  .-*  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  I  remembered  your  face  when  I  first 
came  in,"  said  Jonas,  gazing  at  it  :  "  but  I  couldn't  call  to 
mind  where  I  had  seen  it.  No.  I  don't  remember,  even  now. 
Was  it  in  the  street  t  " 

"  Was  it  in  Pecksniff's  parlor  ?  "  said  Tigg. 

"  In  Pecksniff's  parlor  !  "  echoed  Jonas,  fetching  a  long 
breath.     "  You  don't  mean  when — " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Tigg,  "  when  there  was  a  very  charming  and 
delightful  little  family  party,  at  which  yourself  and  your  re- 
spected father  assisted." 

"  Well,  never  mind  ///>«,"  said  Jonas.  "  He's  dead,  and 
there's  no  help  for  it." 

"  Dead  is  he  !  "  cried  Tigg.  "  Venerable  old  gentleman, 
is  he  dead  !     You're  very  like  him." 

Jonas  received  this  compliment  with  anything  but  a  good 
grace  ;  perhaps  because  of  his  own  private  sentiments  in  ref- 
erence to  the  personal  appearance  of  his  deceased  parent ;  per- 
haps because  he  was  not  best  pleased  to  find  that  Montague 
and  Tigg  were  one.  That  gentleman  perceived  it,  and  tap- 
ping him  familiarly  on  the  sleeve,  beckoned  him  to  the  window. 
From  this  moment,  Mr.  Montague's  jocularity  and  flow  of 
spirits  were  remarkable. 

"  Do  you  find  me  at  all  changed  since  that  time  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Speak  plainly." 

Jonas  looked  hard  at  his  waistcoat  and  jewels  ;  and  said, 
"  Rather,  ecod  !  " 

"Was  I  at  all  seedy  in  those  days  ?  "  asked  Montague. 

"  Precious  seedy,"  said  Jonas. 

Mr.  Montague  pointed  down  into  the  street,  where  Bailey 
and  the  cab  were  in  attendance. 

"  Neat  :  perhaps  dashing.     Do  you  know  whose  it  is  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Mine.     Do  you  like  this  room  t  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


447 


"  It  must  have  cost  a  lot  of  money,"  said  Jonas. 

"  You're  right.  Mine  too.  Why  don't  you  " — he  whispered 
this,  and  nudged  hnn  in  the  side  with  his  elbow — "  why  don't 
you  take  premiums,  instead  of  paying  'em  }  That's  what  a 
man  like  you  should  do.     Join  us  !  " 

Jonas  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Is  that  a  crowded  street .-'  "  asked  Montague,  calling  his 
attention  to  the  multitude  without. 

"  Very,"  said  Jonas,  only  glancing  at  it,  and  immediately 
afterwards  looking  at  him  again. 

"  There  are  printed  calculations,"  said  his  companion, 
"  which  will  tell  you  pretty  nearly  how  many  people  will  pass  up 
and  down  that  tlioroughtare  in  the  course  of  a  day.  /can  tell 
you  how  many  of  'em  will  come  in  here,  merely  because  they  find 
this  office  here ;  knowing  no  more  about  it  than  they  do  of  the 
Pyramids.     Ha,  ha  !     Join  us.     You  shall  come  in  cheap." 

Jonas  looked  at  him  harder  and  harder. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Tigg  in  his  ear,  "how  many  of  'em 
will  buy  annuities,  effect  insurances,  bring  us  their  money  in  a 
hundred  shapes  and  ways,  force  it  upon  us,  trust  us  as  if  we 
were  the  Mint  ;  yet  know  no  more  about  us  than  you  do  of  the 
crossing-sweeper  at  the  corner.     Not  so  much.     Ha,  ha!  " 

Jonas  gradually  broke  into  a  smile. 

"  Yah  !  "  said  Montague,  giving  him  a  pleasant  thrust  in 
the  breast ;  "  you're  too  deep  for  us,  you  dog,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  told  you.     Dine  with  me  to^norrow  in  Pall  Mall  !  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Done  !  "  cried  Montague.  "  Wait  a  bit.  Take  these 
papers  with  you,  and  look  'em  over.  See,"  he  said,  snatching 
some  printed  forms  from  the  table.  "  P  is  a  little  tradesman, 
clerk,  parson,  artist,  author,  any  common  thing  you  like." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jonas,  looking  greedily  over  his  shoulder. 
"  Well !  " 

"  B  wants  a  loan.  Say  fifty  or  a  hundred  pound  ;  perhaps 
more  \  no  matter,  B  proposes  self  and  two  securities.  B  is 
accepted.  Two  securities  give  a  bond.  \\  assures  his  own 
life  for  double  the  amount,  and  brings  two  friends'  lives  also 
— just  to  patronize  the  office.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Is  that  a  good 
notion  t  " 

"  Ecod,  that's  a  capital  notion  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  But  does 
he  really  do  it .''  " 

"  Do  it  !  "  repeated  the  chairman.  "  B's  hard-up  my  good 
fellow,  and  will  do  anything.     Don't  you  see  }     It's  my  idea." 


448  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  It  does  you  honor.     I'm  blest  if  it  don't,"  said  Jonas. 

"  I  think  it  does,"  repUed  the  chairman,  "  and  I'm  proud 
to  hear  you  say  so.     B  pays  the  highest  lawful  interest — " 

"  That  an't  much,"  interrupted  Jonas. 

"  Right !  quite  right !  "  retorted  Tigg.  "  And  hard  it  is 
upon  the  part  of  the  law  that  it  should  be  so  confoundedly 
down  upon  us  unfortunate  victims  ;  when  it  takes  such  amaz- 
ing good  interest  for  itself  from  all  its  clients.  But  charity 
begins  at  home,  and  justice  begins  next  door.  Well !  The  law 
being  hard  upon  us,  we're  not  exactly  soft  upon  B  ;  for  besides 
charging  B  the  regular  interest,  we  get  B's  premium,  and 
B's  friends'  premiums,  and  we  charge  B  for  the  bond,  and, 
whether  we  accept  him  or  not,  we  charge  B  for  '  inquiries  '(we 
keep  a  man,  at  a  pound  a  week,  to  make  'em),  and  we  charge 
B  a  trifle  for  the  secretary  ;  and,  in  short,  my  good  fellow,  we 
stick  it  into  B,  up  hill  and  down  dale,  and  make  a  devilish 
comfortable  little  property  out  of  him.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  drive 
B,  in  point  of  fact,"  said  Tigg,  pointing  to  the  cabriolet, 
"  and  a  thorough-bred  horse  he  is.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Jonas  enjoyed  this  joke  very  much  indeed.  It  was  quite 
in  his  peculiar  vein  of  humor. 

"Then,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "we  grant  annuities  on  the 
very  lowest  and  most  advantageous  terms  known  in  the  money 
market  ;  and  the  old  ladies  and  gentlemen  down  in  the  coun- 
try, buy  'em.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  And  we  pav  'em  too — perhaps. 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"  But  there's  responsibility  in  that,"  said  Jonas,  looking 
doubtful. 

"  I  take  it  all  myself,"  said  Tigg  Montague.  "  Here  I  am, 
responsible  for  everything.  The  only  responsible  person  in 
the  establishment  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Then  there  are  the  Life 
Assurances  without  loans  :  the  common  policies.  Very  prof- 
itable, very  comfortable.  Money  clown,  you  know ;  repeated 
every  year  ;  capital  fun  !  " 

"  But  when  they  begin  to  fall  in,"  observed  Jonas.  "  It's 
all  very  well,  while  the  office  is  young,  but  when  the  policies 
begin  to  die  ;  that's  what  I  am  thinking  of." 

"At  the  first  start,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Montague,  "to 
show  you  how  correct  your  judgment  is,  we  had  a  couple  of 
unlucky  deaths  that  brought  us  down  to  a  grand  piano." 

"  Brought  you  down  where  ?  "  cried  Jonas. 

"I  give  you  my  sacred  word  of  honor,"  said  Tigg  Mon- 
tague, "  that  I  raised  money  on  every  other  individual  piece 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  449 

of  property,  and  was  left  alone  in  the  world  with  a  grand 
piano.  And  it  was  an  upright-grand  too,  so  that  I  couldn't 
even  sit  upon  it.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  we  got  over  it.  We 
granted  a  great  many  new  policies  that  week  (liberal  allow- 
ance to  solicitors,  by  the  bye),  and  got  over  it  in  no  time. 
Whenever  they  should  chance  to  fall  in  heavily,  as  you  very 
justly  observe  they  may,  one  of  these  days  ;  then — "  he  fin- 
ished the  sentence  in  so  low  a  whisper,  that  only  one  discon- 
nected word  was  audible,  and  that  imperfectly.  But  it  sounded 
like  "  Bolt." 

"  Why,  you're  as  bold  as  brass  !  "  said  Jonas,  in  the  ut- 
most admiration. 

"  A  man  can  well  afTord  to  be  as  bold  as  brass,  my  good 
fellow,  when  he  gets  gold  in  exchange  !  "  cried  the  chairman, 
with  a  laugh  that  shook  him  from  head  to  foot.  "  You'll  dine 
with  me  to-morrow  ?  " 

'*  At  what  time  .''  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Seven.  Here's  my  card.  Take  the  documents.  I  see 
you'll  join  us  !  " 

"  I  don"t  know  about  that,"  said  Jonas.  "  There's  a  good 
deal  to  be  looked  into  first." 

"You  shall  look,"  said  Montague,  slapping  him  on  the 
back,  "  into  anything  and  everything  you  please.  But  you'll 
join  us,  I  am  convinced.     You  were  made  for  it.     Bullamy !  " 

Obedient  to  the  summons  and  the  little  bell,  the  waistcoat 
appeared.  Being  charged  to  show  Jonas  out,  it  went  before  ; 
and  the  voice  within  it  cried,  as  usual,  "  By  your  leave  there, 
by  your  leave  !  Gentleman  from  the  board-room,  by  your 
leave  !  " 

Mr.  Montague  being  left  alone,  pondered  for  some  mo- 
ments, and  then  said,  raising  his  voice, 

"  Is  Nadgett  in  the  office  there  ?  " 

"  Here  he  is,  sir."  And  he  promptly  entered  :  shutting 
the  board-room  door  after  him,  as  carefully  as  if  he  were  about 
to  plot  a  murder. 

He  was  the  man  at  a  pound  a  week  who  made  the  inqui- 
ries. It  was  no  virtue  or  merit  in  Nadgett  that  he  transacted 
all  his  Anglo-Bengalee  business  secretly  and  in  the  closest 
confidence  ;  for  he  was  born  to  be  a  secret.  He  was  a  short, 
dried-up,  withered,  old  man,  who  seemed  to  have  secreted  his 
very  blood  \  for  nobody  would  have  given  him  credit  for  the 
possession  of  six  ounces  of  it  in  his  whole  body.  How  he 
lived  was  a  secret ;  where  he  lived  was  a  secret ;    and  even 

29 


4  r-  o  MA  y?  r/A^  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

what  he  was,  was  a  secret.  In  his  musty  old  pocket-book  he 
carried  contradictory  cards,  in  some  of  which  he  called  him- 
self a  coal-merchant,  in  others  a  wine-merchant,  in  others  a 
commission-agent,  in  others  a  collector,  in  others  an  account- 
ant :  as  if  he  really  didn't  know  the  secret  himself.  He  was 
always  keeping  appointments  in  the  City,  and  the  other  man 
never  seemed  to  come.  He  would  sit  on  'Change  for  hours, 
looking  at  everA'body  who  walked  in  and  out,  and  would  do 
the  like  at  Garraway's,  and  in  other  business  coffee-houses,  in 
some  of  which  he  would  be  occasionally  seen  diying  a  very 
damp  pocket-handkerchief  before  the  fire,  and  still  looking 
over  his  shoulder  for  the  man  who  never  appeared.  He  was 
mildewed,  threadbare,  shabby  ;  always  had  flue  upon  his  legs 
and  back ;  and  kept  his  linen  so  secret  by  buttoning  up  and 
wrapping  over,  that  he  might  have  had  none — perhaps  he 
hadn't.  He  carried  one  stained  beaver  glove,  which  he 
dangled  before  him  by  the  forefinger  as  he  walked  or  sat  ;  but 
even  its  fellow  was  a  secret.  Some  people  said  he  had  been 
a  bankrupt,  others  that  he  had  gone  an  infant  into  an  ancient 
Chancery  suit  which  was  still  depending,  but  it  was  all  a  se- 
cret. He  carried  bits  of  sealing-wax  and  a  hieroglyphical  old 
copper  seal  in  his  pocket,  and  often  secretly  indited  letters  in 
corner  boxes  of  the  trj-sting-places  before  mentioned  ;  but 
they  never  appeared  to  go  to  anybody,  for  he  would  put  them 
into  a  secret  place  in  his  coat,  and  deliver  them  to  himself 
weeks  afterwards,  very  much  to  his  own  surprise,  quite  yel- 
low. He  was  that  sort  of  man  that  if  he  had  died  worth  a 
million  of  money,  or  had  died  worth  twopence  halfpenny, 
ever}'body  would  have  been  perfectly  satisfied,  and  would 
have  said  it  was  just  as  they  expected.  And  yet  he  belonged 
to  a  class  :  a  race  peculiar  to  the  City  ;  who  are  secrets  as 
profound  to   one  another,  as  they  are  to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

"  Mr.  Nadgett,"  said  Montague,  copying  Jonas  Chuzzle- 
wit's  address  upon  a  piece  of  paper,  from  the  card  which  was 
still  lying  on  the  table,  "  any  information  about  this  name,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  have  myself.  Don't  you  mind  what  it  is. 
Any-  you  can  scrape  together,  bring  me.  Bring  it  to  me,  Mr. 
Nadgett." 

Nadgett  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  read  the  name  atten- 
tively ;  then  looked  at  the  chairman  over  his  glasses,  and 
bowed  ;  then  took  them  off,  and  put  them  in  their  case  ;  and 
then  put  the  case  in  his  pocket.  When  he  had  done  so,  he 
looked,  without  his  spectacles,  at  the  paper  as  it  lay  before 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


45' 


him,  and  at  the  same  tune  produced  liis  pocket-book  from 
somewhere  about  the  middle  of  his  spine.  Large  as  it  was, 
it  was  very  full  of  documents,  but  he  found  a  place  for  this 
one  ;  and  having  clasped  it  carefully,  passed  it  by  a  kind  of 
solemn  legerdemain  into  the  same  region  as  before. 

He  withdrew  with  another  bow  and  without  a  word ; 
opening  the  door  no  wider  than  was  sufficient  for  his  passage 
out ;  and  shutting  it  as  carefully  as  before.  The  chairman 
of  the  board  employed  the  rest  of  the  morning  in  affixing  his 
sign-manual  of  gracious  acceptance  to  various  new  proposals 
of  annuity-purchase  and  assurance.  The  Company  was  look- 
ing up,  for  they  flowed  in  gayly. 


CHAPTER   XXVni. 

MR.    MONTAGUE    AT    HOME.       AND    MR.    JONAS     CHTTZZLEWIT    AT 

HOME. 

There  were  many  powerful  reasons  for  Jonas  Chuzzlewit 
being  strongly  prepossessed  in  favor  of  the  scheme  which  its 
great  originator  had  so  boldly  laid  open  to  him  ;  but  three 
among  them  stood  prominently  forward.  Firstly,  there  was 
money  to  be  made  by  it.  Secondly,  the  money  had  the  pe- 
culiar charm  of  being  sagaciously  obtained  at  other  people's 
cost.  Thirdly,  it  involved  much  outward  show  of  homage  and 
distinction  :  a  board  being  an  awful  institution  in  its  own 
sphere,  and  a  director  a  mighty  man.  "  'I'o  make  a  swingeing 
profit,  have  a  lot  of  chaps  to  order  about,  and  get  into  regular 
good  society  by  one  and  the  same  means,  and  them  so  easy 
to  one's  hand,  ain't  such  a  bad  look  out,"  thought  Jonas. 
The  latter  considerations  were  only  second  to  his  avarice  ; 
for,  conscious  that  there  was  nothing  in  his  person,  conduct, 
character,  or  accomplishments,  to  command  respect,  he  was 
greedy  of  power,  and  was  in  his  heart,  as  much  a  tyrant  as 
any  laurelled  conqueror  on  record. 

But  he  determined  to  proceed  with  cunning  and  caution, 
and  to  be  very  keen  in  his  observation  of  the  gentility  of  Mr. 
Montague's  private  establishment.  For  it  no  more  occurred 
to  this  shallow  knave  that  Montague  wanted  him  to  be  so,  or 


452 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


he  wouldn't  have  invited  him  while  his  decision  was  yet  in 
abeyance,  than  the  possibility  of  that  genius  being  able  to 
overreach  him  in  any  way,  pierced  through  his  self-conceit  by 
the  inlet  of  a  needle's  point.  He  had  said,  in  the  outset,  that 
Jonas  was  too  sharp  for  him  ;  and  Jonas,  who  would  have 
been  sharp  enough  to  believe  him  in  nothing  else,  though  he 
had  solemnly  sworn  it,  believed  him  in  that,  instantly. 

It  was  with  a  faltering  hand,  and  yet  with  an  imbecile 
attempt  at  a  swagger,  that  he  knocked  at  his  new  friend's 
door  in  Pall  Mall  "when  the  appointed  hour  arrived.  Mr. 
Bailey  quickly  answered  to  the  summons.  He  was  not  proud, 
and  was  kindly  disposed  to  take  notice  of  Jonas  ;  but  Jonas 
had  forgotten  him. 

"  Mr.  Montague  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  should  hope  he  wos  at  home,  and  waiting  dinner,  too," 
said  Bailey,  with  the  ease  of  an  old  acquaintance.  "  Will  you 
take  your  hat  up  along  with  you,  or  leave  it  here  ?" 

]\Ir.  Jonas  preferred  leaving  it  there. 

"  The  hold  name,  I  suppose .''  "  said  Bailey,  with  a  grin. 

Mr.  Jonas  stared  at  him,  in  mute  indignation. 

"  What,  don't  you  remember  hold  mother  Todgers's  .-' " 
said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  his  favorite  action  of  the  knees  and 
boots.  "  Don't  you  remember  my  taking  your  name  up  to 
the  young  ladies,  when  you  come  a  courting  there  ?  A  reg'lar 
scaly  old  shop,  warn't  it  ?  Times  is  changed,  ain't  they .-'  I 
say,  how  you've  growed  !  " 

Without  pausing  for  any  acknowledgment  of  this  com- 
pliment, he  ushered  the  visitor  up  stairs  ;  and  having  an- 
nounced him,  retired  with  a  private  wink. 

The  lower  story  of  the  house  was  occupied  by  a  wealthy 
tradesman,  but  Mr.  Montague  had  all  the  upper  portion,  and 
splendid  lodging  it  was.  The  room  in  which  he  receiveq' 
Jonas  was  a  spacious  and  elegant  apartment,  furnished  witK 
extreme  magnificence,  decorated  with  pictures,  copies  from 
the  antique  in  alabaster  and  marble,  china  vases,  lofty  mirrors, 
crimson  hangings  of  the  richest  silk,  gilded  carvings,  luxurious 
couches,  glistening  cabinets  inlaid  with  precious  woods, 
costly  toys  of  every  sort  in  negligent  abundance.  The  only 
guests  besides  Jonas  were  the  doctor,  the  resident  Director, 
and  two  other  gentlemen,  whom  Montague  presented  in  due 
form. 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  Jobling 
you  know,  I  believe  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


453 


"  I  think  so,"  said  the  doctor  pleasantly,  as  he  stepped 
out  of  the  circle  to  shake  hands.  "  1  trust  I  have  that  honor. 
I  hope  so.  My  dear  sir,  I  see  you  well.  Quite  well  ?  Thai's 
well  !  " 

"  Mr.  Wolf,"  said  Montague,  as  soon  as  the  doctor  would 
allow  him  to  introduce  the  two  others,  "  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Mr. 
Pip,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

Both  gentlemen  were  exceedingly  happy  to  have  .the  honor 
of  making  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  acquaintance.  The  Doctor  drew 
Jonas  a  little  apart,  and  whispered  behind  his  hand: 

"  Men  of  the  world,  my  dear  sir — men  of  the  world.  Hem  ! 
Mr.  Wolf — literary  character — you  needn't  mention  it — re- 
markably cleveF  weekly  paper — oh,  remarkably  clever  !  Mr. 
Pip — theatrical  man — capital  man  to  know — oh,  capital 
man  !  " 

"  Well  !  "  said  Wolf,  folding  his  arms  and  resuming  a 
conversation  which  the  arrival  of  Jonas  had  interrupted. 
"  And  what  did  Lord  Nobley  say  to  that .'  " 

"Why,"  returned  Pip,  with  an  oath.  "He  didn't  know 
what  to  say.  Damme,  sir,  if  he  wasn't  as  mute  as  a  poker. 
But  you  know  what  a  good  fellow  Nobley  is  !  " 

"The  best  fellow  in  the  world!"  cried  \\V)lf.  "  It  was 
only  last  week  that  Nobley  said  to  me,  '  P.y  Gad,  Wolf,  I've 
got  a  living  to  bestow,  and  if  you  had  but  been  brought  up  at 
the  University,  strike  me  blind  if  I  wouldn't  have  made  a 
parson  of  you  !  ' " 

"Just  like  him,"  said  Pip  with  another  oath.  "And  he'd 
have  done  it !  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  Wolf.  "  But  you  were  going  to 
tell  us  ?— " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  cried  Pip.  "  To  be  sure.  So  I  was.  At 
first  he  was  dumb — sewn  up,  dead  sir, — but  after  a  minute  he 
said  to  the  Duke,  '  Here's  Pip.  Ask  Pip.  Pip's  our  mutual 
friend.  Ask  Pip.  He  knows.'  'Damme!'  said  the  Duke, 
'  I  appeal  to  Pip  then.  Come,  Pip.  Bandy  or  not  bandy  ? 
Speak  out  I '  '  Bandy,  your  Grace,  by  the  Lord  Harry  !  '  said 
L  'Ha,  ha!'  laughed  the  Duke.  'To  be  sure  she  is. 
Bravo,  Pip.  Well  said,  Pip.  I  wish  I  may  die  if  you're  not 
a  trump,  Pip.  Pop  me  down  among  your  fashionable  visitors 
whenever  Pm  in  town,  Pip.'     And  so  I  do,  to  this  day." 

The  conclusion  of  this  story  gave  immense  satisfaction, 
which  was  in  no  degree  lessened  by  the  announcement  of 
dinner.     Jonas  repaired  to   the   dining-room,  along  with  his 


454 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


distinguished  host,  and  toolc  his  seat  at  the  board  between 
that  individual  and  his  friend  the  doctor.  The  rest  fell  into 
their  places  like  men  who  were  well  accustomed  to  the  house  ; 
and  dinner  was  done  full  justice  to,  by  all  parties. 

It  was  as  good  a  one  as  money  (or  credit,  no  matter 
which)  could  produce.  The  dishes,  wines,  and  fruits  were  of 
the  choicest  kind.  Everything  was  elegantly  served.  The 
plate  was  gorgeous.  Mr.  Jonas  was  in  the  midst  of  a  calcula- 
tion of  the  value  of  this  item  alone,  when  his  host  disturbed 
him. 

"  A  glass  of  wine  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Jonas,  who  had  had  several  glasses  already. 
"  As  much  of  that  as  you  like  !     It's  too  good  to  refuse." 

"  Well  said,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  "  cried  Wolf. 

"  Tom  Gag,  upon  my  soul  !  "  said  Pip. 

"  Positively,  you  know,  that's — ha,  ha,  ha !  "  observed  the 
doctor,  laying  down  his  knife  and  fork  for  one  instant,  and 
then  going  to  work  again,  pell-mell — "  that's  epigrammatic  ; 
quite  !  " 

"  You're  tolerably  comfortable,  I  hope  ?  "  said  Tigg,  apart 
to  Jonas. 

"Oh!  You  needn't  trouble  your  head  about  ;«t',"  he 
replied.     "  Famous  !  " 

"  I  thought  it  best  not  to  have  a  party,"  said  Tigg.  "  You 
feel  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  call  this  ?  "  retorted  Jonas.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  say  you  do  this  every  day,  do  you  .''  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Montague,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
"  every  day  of  my  life,  when  I  dine  at  home.  This  is  my 
common  style.  It  was  of  no  use  having  anything  uncommon 
for  you.  You'd  have  seen  through  it.  '  You'll  have  a  party  ?  ' 
said  Crimple.  'No,  1  won't,'  I  said;  'he  shall  take  us  in 
the  rough  ?  '" 

"  And  pretty  smooth  too,  ecod  !  "  said  Jonas,  glancing 
round  the  table.     "This  don't  cost  a  trifle." 

"Why,  to  be  candid  with  you,  it  does  not,"  returned  the 
other.  "  But  I  like  this  sort  of  thing.  It's  the  way  I  spend 
my  money." 

Jonas  thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  and  said,  "  Was 
it .? " 

"  When  you  join  us,  you  won't  get  rid  of  your  share  of  the 
profits  in  the  same  way  ?  "  said  Tigg. 

"  Quite  different,"  retorted  Jonas. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


455 


"Well,  and  you're  right,"  said  Tigg,  with  a  friendly  can- 
dor. "  You  needn't.  It's  not  necessary.  One  of  a  Company 
must  do  it  to  hold  the  connection  together  ;  but  as  I  take  a 
pleasure  in  it,  that's  my  department.  You  don't  mind  dining 
expensively  at  another  man's  expense,  I  hope  1  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Then  I  hope  you'll  often  dine  with  me  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  "   said  Jonas,   "  I  don't  mind.     On  the  contrar}'. 

"  And  I'll  never  attempt  to  talk  business  to  you  over  wine, 
said  Tigg.  "  Oh  deep,  deep,  deep  of  you  this  morning  !  I 
must  tell  'em  that.  They're  the  very  men  to  enjoy  it.  Pip, 
my  good  fellow,  I've  a  splendid  little  trait  to  tell  you  of  my 
friend  Chuzzlewit,  who  is  the  deepest  dog  I  know.  I  give  you 
my  sacred  word  of  honor  he  is  the  deepest  dog  I  know  Pip  ! " 

Pip  swore  a  frightful  oath  that  he  was  sure  of  it  already ; 
and  the  anecdote,  being  told,  was  received  with  loud  applause, 
as  an  incontestable  proof  of  Mr.  Jonas's  greatness.  Pip,  in 
a  natural  spirit  of  emulation,  then  related  some  instances  of 
his  own  depth  ;  and  Wolf,  not  to  be  left  behind-hand,  recited 
the  leading  points  of  one  or  two  vastly  humorous  articles  he 
was  then  preparing.  These  lucubrations,  being  of  what  he 
called  "  a  warm  complexion,"  were  highly  approved  ;  and  all 
the  company  agreed  that  they  were  full  of  point. 

"  Men  of  the  world,  my  dear  sir,"  Jobling  whispered  to 
Jonas  ;  "  thorough  men  of  the  world  !  To  a  professional 
person  like  myself,  it's  quite  refreshing  to  come  into  this  kind 
of  society.  It's  not  only  agreeable — and  nothing  can  be  more 
agreeable — but  it's  philosophically  improving.  It's  character, 
my  dear  sir  ;  character  !  " 

It  is  so  pleasant  to  find  real  merit  appreciated,  whatever 
its  particular  walk  in  life  may  be,  that  the  general  harmony  of 
the  company  was  doubtless  much  promoted  by  their  knowing 
that  the  two  men  of  the  world  were  held  in  great  esteem  by 
the  upper  classes  of  society,  and  by  the  gallant  defenders  of 
their  country  in  the  army  and  navy,  but  particularly  the  former. 
The  least  of  their  stories  had  a  colonel  in  it ;  lords  were  as 
plentiful  as  oaths  ;  and  even  the  Blood  Royal  ran  in  the  muddy 
channel  of  their  personal  recollections. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  didn't  know  him,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Wolf, 
in  reference  to  a  certain  personage  of  illustrious  descent,  who 
had  previously  figured  in  a  reminiscence. 

"  No,"  said  Tigg.  "  But  we  must  bring  him  into  contact 
with  this  sort  of  fellows." 


456  ^JAR  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 

"  He  was  very  fond  of  literature,"  observed  Wolf. 

"  Was  he  ?  "  said  Tigg. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  he  took  my  paper  regularly  for  many  years. 
Do  you  know  he  said  some  good  things  now  and  then  ?  He 
asked  a  certain  Viscount,  who's  a  friend  of  mine — Pip  knows 
him — '  What's  the  editor's  name,  what's  the  editor's  name  ? ' 
'  Wolf.'  'Wolf,  eh  ?  Sharp  biter.  Wolf.  We  must  keep  the 
Wolf  from  the  door,  as  the  proverb  says.'  It  was  very  well. 
And  being  complimentary,  I  printed  it." 

"  But  the  Viscount's  the  boy  !  "  cried  Pip,  who  invented  a 
new  oath  for  the  introduction  of  everything  he  said.  "  The 
Viscount's  the  boy  !  He  came  into  our  place  one  night  to  take 
Her  home  ;  rather  slued,  but  not  much  ;  and  said,  '  Where's 
Pip  ?  I  want  to  see  Pip.  Produce  Pip  ! ' — '  What's  the  row, 
my  lord  ? ' — '  Shakspeare's  an  infernal  humbug,  Pip !  What's 
the  good  of  Shakspeare,  Pip .-'  I  never  read  him.  What 
the  devil  is  it  all  about,  Pip  .-'  There's  a  lot  of  feet  in  Shak- 
speare's verse,  but  there  ain't  any  legs  worth  mentioning  in 
Shakspeare's  plays,  are  there,  Pip  ?  Juliet,  Desdemona,  Lady 
Macbeth,  and  all  the  rest  of  'em,  whatever  their  names  are, 
might  as  well  have  no  legs  at  all,  for  anything  the  audience 
know  about  it,  Pip.  Why,  in  that  respect  they're  all  Miss 
Biffins  to  the  audience,  Pip.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  What 
the  people  call  dramatic  poetry  is  a  collection  of  sermons. 
Do  1  go  to  the  theatre  to  be  lectured  t  No,  Pip.  If  I  wanted 
that,  I'd  go  to  church.  What's  the  legitimate  object  of  the 
drama,  Pip  ?  Human  nature.  What  are  legs  ?  Human  na- 
ture. Then  let  us  have  plenty  of  leg  pieces,  Pip,  and  I'll 
stand  by  you,  my  buck  !  '  And  I  am  proud  to  say,"  added 
Pip,  "  that  he  did  stand  by  me,  handsomely." 

The  conversation  now  becoming  general,  Mr.  Jonas's 
opinion  was  requested  on  this  subject ;  and  as  it  was  in  full 
accordance  with  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Pip,  that  gentleman 
was  extremely  gratified.  Indeed,  both  himself  and  Wolf  had 
so  much  in  common  with  Jonas,  that  they  became  very  ami- 
cable ;  and  between  their  increasing  friendship  and  the  fumes 
of  wine,  Jonas  grew  talkative. 

It  does  not  follow  in  the  case  of  such  a  person  that  the 
more  talkative  he  becomes,  the  more  agreeable  he  is  ;  on  the 
contrary,  his  merits  show  to  most  advantage,  perhaps,  in  silence. 
Having  no  means,  as  he  thought,  of  putting  himself  on  an 
equality  with  the  rest,  but  by  the  assertion  of  that  depth  and 
sharpness  on  which  he  had  been  complimented,  Jonas  ex- 


MARTTN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  457 

hibited  that  faculty  to  the  utmost ;  and  was  so  deep  and  sliarp 
that  he  lost  himself  in  his  own  profundity,  and  cut  his  fingers 
with  his  own  edge  tools. 

It  was  especially  in  his  way  and  character  to  exhibit  his 
quality  at  his  entertainer's  expense  ;  and  while  he  drank  of 
his  sparkling  wines,  and  partook  of  his  monstrous  profusion, 
to  ridicule  the  extravagance  which  had  set  such  costly  fare 
before  him.  Even  at  such  a  wanton  board,  and  in  such  more 
than  doubtful  company,  this  might  have  proved  a  disagreeable 
experiment,  but  that  Tigg  and  C'rimple,  studying  to  understand 
their  man  thoroughly,  gave  him  what  license  he  chose,  know- 
ing that  the  more  he  took,  the  better  for  their  purpose.  And 
thus  while  the  ^Dlundering  cheat — gull  that  he  was,  for  all  his 
cunning — thought  himself  rolled  up  hedgehog  fashion,  with 
his  sharpest  points  towards  them,  he  was,  in  fact,  betraying 
all  his  vulnerable  parts  to  their  unwinking  watchfulness. 

Whether  the  two  gentlemen  who  contributed  so  much  to 
the  doctor's  philosophical  knowledge  (by  the  way,  the  docter 
slipped  off  quietly,  after  swallowing  his  usual  amount  of  wine) 
had  had  their  cue  distinctly  from  the  host,  or  took  it  from  what 
they  saw  and  heard,  they  acted  their  parts  very  well.  They 
solicited  the  honor  of  Jonas's  better  acquaintance,  trusted 
that  they  would  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  him  into  that 
elevated  society  in  which  he  was  so  well  qualified  to  shine  ; 
and  informed  him,  in  the  most  friendlv  manner,  that  the  ad- 
vantages  of  their  respective  establishments  were  entirely  at 
his  control.  In  a  word,  they  said  "  Be  one  of  us  !  "  And 
Jonas  said  he  was  infinitely  obligetl  to  them,  and  he  would  be, 
adding  within  himself,  that  so  long  as  they  "  stood  treat," 
there  was  nothing  he  would  like  better. 

After  coffee,  which  was  served  in  the  drawing-room,  there 
w^as  a  short  interval  (mainly  sustained  by  Pip  and  Wolf)  of 
conversation  ;  rather  highly  spiced  and  strongly  seasoned. 
When  it  flagged,  Jonas  took  it  up  and  showed  considerable 
humor  in  appraising  the  furniture  ;  inquiring  whether  such  an 
article  was  paid  for  ;  what  it  had  originally  cost  ;  and  the  like. 
In  all  of  this,  he  was,  as  he  considered,  desperately  hard  on 
Montague,  and  very  demonstrative  of  his  own  brilliant  ])arts. 

Some  Champagne  Punch  gave  a  new  though  temporary 
fillip  to  the  entertainments  of  the  evening.  For  after  leading 
to  some  noisy  proceedings,  which  were  not  intelligible,  it  ended 
in  the  unsteady  departure  of  the  two  gentlemen  of  the  world, 
and  the  slumber  of  Mr.  Jonas  upon  one  of  the  sofas. 


458 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


As  he  could  not  be  made  to  understand  where  he  was,  j\Ir. 
Bailey  received  orders  to  call  a  hackney-coach,  and  take  him 
home,  which  that  young  gentleman  roused  himself  from  an 
uneasy  sleep  in  the  hall,  to  do.  It  being  now  almost  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  Is  he  hooked,  do  you  think  ?  "  whispered  Crimple,  as 
himself  and  partner  stood  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room  ob- 
serving him  as  he  lay. 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Tigg,  in  the  same  tone.  "  With  a  strong  iron, 
perhaps.     Has  Nadgett  been  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  went  out  to  him.  Hearing  you  had  company,  he 
went  away." 

"  Why  did  he  do  that  1  " 

"  He  said  he  would  come  back  early  in  the  morning,  before 
you  were  out  of  bed." 

"  Tell  them  to  be  sure  and  send  him  up  to  my  bedside. 
Hush  !  Here's  the  boy  !  Now  Mr.  Bailey,  take  this  gentle- 
man home,  and  see  him  safely  in.  Hallo  here  !  Why  Chuz- 
zlewit,  halloa  !  " 

They  got  him  upright  with  some  difficulty,  and  assisted 
him  down  stairs,  where  they  put  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and 
tumbled  him  into  the  coach.  Mr.  Bailey,  having  shut  him  in, 
mounted  the  box  beside  the  coachman,  and  smoked  his  cigar 
with  an  air  of  particular  satisfaction  ;  the  undertaking  in 
which  he  was  engaged  having  a  free  and  sporting  character 
about  it,  which  was  quite  congenial  to  his  taste. 

Arriving  in  due  time  at  the  house  in  the  City,  Mr.  Bailey 
jumped  down,  and  expressed  the  lively  nature  of  his  feelings, 
in  a  knock,  the  like  of  which  had  probably  not  been  heard 
in  that  quarter  since  the  great  fire  of  London.  Going  out 
into  the  road  to  observe  the  effect  of  this  feat,  he  saw  that  a 
dim  light,  previously  visible  at  an  upper  window,  had  been 
already  removed  and  was  travelling  down  stairs.  To  obtain 
a  foreknowledge  of  the  bearer  of  this  taper,  Mr.  Bailey 
skipped  back  to  the  door  again,  and  put  his  eye  to  the 
keyhole. 

It  ■  was  the  merr}'  one  herself.  But  sadly,  strangely 
altered  !  So  careworn  and  dejected,  so  faltering  and  full  of 
fear ;  so  fallen,  humbled,  broken,  that  to  iiave  seen  her,  quiet 
in  her  coffin,  would  have  been  a  less  surprise. 

She  set  the  light  upon  a  bracket  in  the  hall,  and  laid  her 
hand  upon  her  heart,  upon  her  eyes,  upon  her  burning  head. 
Then  she   came  on  towards  the  door,  with  such  a  wild  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  4-g 

hurried  step,  that  Mr.  Bailey  lost  his  self-possession,  and  still 
had  his  eye  where  the  keyhole  had  been,  when  she  opened  it. 

"  Aha  !  "  said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  an  effort.  "  There  you 
are,  are  you  !     What's  the  matter  }    Ain't  you  well,  though  !  " 

In  the  midst  of  her  astonishment  as  she  reco2:nized  him  in 
his  altered  dress,  so  much  of  her  old  smile  came  back  to  her 
face  that  Bailey  was  glad.  But  next  moment  he  was  sorry 
again,  for  he  saw  tears  standing  in  her  poor  dim  eyes. 

*'  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  Bailey.  "  There  ain't  nothing 
the  matter.  I've  brought  home  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  He  ain't 
ill.  He's  only  a  little  swipey  you  know."  Mr.  Bailey  reeled 
in  his  boots,  to  express  intoxication. 

"  Have  yoj.1  come  from  Mrs.  Todgers's  ?  "  asked  Merr}', 
trembling. 

"Todgers's,  bless  you?  No!"  cried  Mr.  Bailey.  "I 
haven't  got  nothing  to  do  with  Todgers's.  I  cut  that  connection 
long  ago.  He's  been  a  dining  with  my  governor  at  the  West- 
end.     Didn't  3'ou  know  he  was  a  coming  to  see  us  ?  " 

"No,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"  Oh  yes !  We're  heavy  swells  too,  and  so  I  tell  you. 
Don't  you  come  out,  a  catching  cold  in  3-our  head.  J'W  wake 
him  !  "  Mr.  Bailey  expressing  in  his  demeanor  a  perfect  con- 
fidence that  he  could  carry  him  in  with  ease,  if  necessaiy, 
opened  the  coach  door,  let  down  the  steps,  and  giving  Jonas 
a  shake,  cried  "  We've  got  home,  my  flower !  Tumble  up 
then  !  " 

He  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  respond  to  this 
appeal,  and  to  come  stumbling  out  of  the  coach  in  a  heap,  to 
the  great  hazard  of  Mr.  Bailey's  person.  When  he  got  upon 
the  pavement,  Mr.  Bailey  first  butted  at  him  in  front,  and  tlien 
dexterously  propped  him  up  behind  ;  and  having  steadied  him 
by  these  means,  he  assisted  him  into  the  house. 

"You  go  up  first  with  the  light,"  said  Bailey  to  Mrs. 
Jonas,  "  and  we'll  foller.  Don't  trenible  so.  He  won't  hurt 
you.  When  /'\e  had  a  drop  too  much,  I'm  full  of  good  natur 
myself." 

She  went  on  before,  and  her  husband  and  Bailey,  by  dint 
of  tumbling  over  each  other,  and  knocking  themselves  about, 
got  at  last  into  the  sitting-room  above  stairs,  where  Jonas 
staggered  into  a  seat. 

"There!"  said  Mr.  Bailey.  "  He's  all  right  now.  You 
ain't  got  nothing  to  cry  for,  bless  you  !  He's  righter  than  a 
trivet  I ' 


460  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  ill-favored  brute,  with  dress  awry,  and  sodden  face, 
and  rumpled  hair,  sat  blinking  and  drooping,  and  rolling  his 
idiotic  eyes  about,  until,  becoming  conscious  by  degrees,  he 
recognized  his  wife,  and  shook  his  fist  at  her. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  squaring  his  arms  with  a  sudden 
emotion.  "What,  3-ou're  wicious,  are  you.'  Would  you 
though  !     You'd  better  not !  " 

"  Pra3%  go  away  !  "  said  Merry.  "  Bailey,  my  good  boy, 
go  home.  Jonas  !  "  she  said,  timidly  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  bending  her  head  down,  over  him,  "  Jonas  !  " 

"  Look  at  her  !  "  cried  Jonas,  pushing  her  off  with  his  ex- 
tended arm.  "  Look  here  !  Look  at  her  !  Here's  a  bargain 
for  a  man  !  " 

"  Dear  Jonas  !  " 

"  Dear  Devil  !  "  he  replied,  with  a  fierce  gesture.  "  You're 
a  pretty  clog  to  be  tied  to  a  man  for  life,  you  mewling,  white- 
faced  cat !     Get  out  of  my  sight  !  " 

"I  know  you  don't  mean  it,  Jonas.  You  wouldn't  say  it 
if  you  were  sober." 

With  affected  gayety  she  gave  Bailey  a  piece  of  money, 
and  again  implored  him  to  be  gone.  Her  entreaty  was  so 
earnest,  that  the  boy  had  not  the  heart  to  stay  there.  But  he 
stopped  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  and  listened. 

"  I  wouldn't  say  it  if  I  was  sober  !  "  retorted  Jonas.  "  You 
know  better.     Have  I  never  said  it  when  I  was  sober  ?  " 

"  Often,  indeed  !  "  she  answered  through  her  tears. 

"  Hark  ye !  "  cried  Jonas,  stamping  his  foot  upon  the 
ground.  "  You  made  me  bear  your  pretty  humors  once,  and 
ecod  I'll  make  you  bear  mine  now.  1  always  promised  myself 
I  would.  I  married  you  that  I  might.  I'll  know  who's  master, 
and  who's  slave  !  " 

"  Heaven  knows  I  am  obedient  !  "  said  the  sobbing  girl. 
"  Much  more  so  than  I  ever  thought  to  be  !  " 

Jonas  laughed  in  his  drunken  exultation.  "  What  !  you're 
finding  it  out,  are  you  !  Patience,  and  you  will  in  time  ! 
Griffins  have  claws,  my  girl.  There's  not  a  pretty  slight  you 
ever  put  upon  me,  nor  a  pretty  trick  you  ever  played  me,  nor 
a  pretty  insolence  you  ever  showed  me,  that  I  won't  pay  back 
a  hundred-fold.  What  else  did  I  marr}'  you  for.  You,  too !  " 
he  said,  with  coarse  contempt. 

It  might  have  softened  him  to  hear  her  turn  a  little  frag- 
ment of  a  song  he  used  to  say  he  liked  :  trying,  with  a  heart 
60  full,  to  win  him  back. 


MA R  TIN  CIIUZZLE  WIT.  46 1 

"  Oho !  "  he  said,  "  you're  deaf,  are  you  ?  You  don't  hear 
me,  eh  ?  So  much  the  better  for  you.  I  hate  you.  I  hate 
myself,  for  haxiiii;-  been  fool  enough  to  strap  a  pack  upon  my 
back  for  the  pleasure  of  treading  on  it  whenever  I  choose. 
Why,  things  have  opened  to  me,  now,  so  that  I  might  marry 
almost  where  I  liked.  But  I  wouldn't;  I'd  keep  single.  I 
ought  to  be  single,  among  the  friends  /know.  Instead  of 
that,  here  I  am,  tied  like  a  log  to  you.  Pah  !  Why  do  you 
show  your  pale  face  when  1  come  home .'  Am  I  never  to  for- 
get you .''  " 

"  How  late  it  is  ! "  she  said  cheerfully,  opening  the 
shutter  after  an  interval  of  silence.     "Broad  day,  Jonas  !  "' 

"  Broad  dg.y  or  black  night,  what  do  /  care  !  "  was  the 
kind  rejoinder. 

"  The  night  passed  quickly,  too.  1  don't  mind  sitting  up, 
at  all." 

"  Sit  up  for  me  again,  if  you  dare  !  "  growled  Jonas. 

"  I  was  reading,"  she  proceeded.  "  all  night  long.  I  be- 
gan when  you  went  out,  and  read  till  you  came  home  again. 
The  strangest  story,  Jonas  !  And  true,  the  book  says.  I'll 
tell  it  you  to-morrow." 

"  True,  was  it  ?  "  said  Jonas,  doggedly. 

"  So  the  book  says." 

"Was  there  anything  in  it,  about  a  man's  being  determined 
to  conquer  his  wife,  break  her  spirit,  bend  her  temper,  crush 
all  her  humors  like  so  many  nut-shells — kill  her,  for  aught  I 
know  }  "  said  Jonas. 

"  No.     Not  a  word,"  she  answered  quickly. 

"  Ah  I "  he  returned.  "  That'll  be  a  true  story  though, 
before  long  ;  for  all  the  book  says  nothing  about  it.  It's  a 
lying  book,  I  see.  A  fit  book  for  a  lying  reader.  But  you're 
deaf.     I  forgot  that." 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence  ;  and  the  boy  was 
stealing  away,  when  he  heard  her  footstep  on  the  floor,  and 
stopped.  She  went  up  to  him,  as  it  seemed,  and  spoke  lov- 
ingly .;  saying  that  she  would  defer  to  him  in  everything,  and 
would  consult  his  wishes  and  obey  them,  and  ihey  might  be 
very  happy  if  he  would  be  gentle  with  her.  He  answered  with 
an  imprecation,  and — 

Not  with  a  blow  .-"  Yes.  Stern  truth  against  the.base- 
souled  villain  :  with  a  blow. 

No  angry  cries  ;  no  loud  reproaches.  Even  her  weeping  and 
her  sobs  were  stifled  by  her  clinging  round  him.     She  only 


462  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

said,  repeating  it  in  agony  of  heart,  How  could  he,  could  he, 
could  he  !     And  lost  utterance  in  tears. 

Oh  woman,  God  beloved  in  old  Jerusalem  !  The  best  among 
us  need  deal  lightly  with  thy  faults,  if  only  for  the  punishment 
thy  nature  will  endure,  in  bearing  heavy  evidence  against  us, 
on  the  Day  of  Judgment ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


IN  WHICH  SOME  PEOPLE  ARE  PRECOCIOUS,  OTHERS  PROFESSIONAL, 
AND  OTHERS  MYSTERIOUS  :    ALL  IN  THEIR  SEVERAL  WAYS. 

It  may  have  been  the  restless  remembrance  of  what  he 
had  seen  and  heard  overnight,  or  it  may  have  been  no  deeper 
mental  operation  than  the  discovery  that  he  had  nothing  to  do, 
which  caused  Mr.  Bailey,  on  the  following  afternoon,  to  feel 
particularly  disposed  for  agreeable  society,  and  prompted  him 
to  pay  a  visit  to  his  friend  Poll  Sweedlepipe. 

On  the  little  bell  giving  clamorous  notice  of  a  visitor's  ap- 
proach (for  Mr.  P>ailey  came  in  at  the  door  with  a  lunge,  to 
get  as  much  sound  out  of  the  bell  as  possible),  Poll  Sweedle- 
pipe desisted  from  the  contemplation  of  a  favorite  owl,  and 
gave  his  young  friend  hearty  welcome. 

"Why,  you  look  smarter  by  day,"  said  Poll,  "than  you  do 
by  candle-light.     I  never  see  .such  a  tight  young  dasher." 

"  Reether  so,  Polly.     How's  our  fair  friend  Sairah  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.     "  She's  at  home." 

"  There's  the  remains  of  a  fine  woman  about  Sairah,  Poll," 
observed  Mr.  Bailey,  with  genteel  indifference. 

"  Oh  !  "  thought  Poll,  "  he's  old.     He  must  be  very  old  !  " 

"  Too  much  crumb,  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Bailey  ;  "  too  fat, 
Poll.     But  there's  many  worse  at  her  time  of  life." 

"  The  very  owl's  a  opening  his  eyes  !  "  thought  Poll.  "  I 
don't  wonder  at  it,  in  a  bird  of  his  opinions." 

He  happened  to  have  been  sharpening  his  razors,  which 
were  l}ing  open  in  a  row,  while  a  huge  strop  dangled  from  the 
wall.  Glancing  at  these  preparations,  Mr.  Bailey  stroked  his 
chin,  and  a  thought  appeared  to  occur  to  him. 

"Poll,"  he  said,  "  I  ain't  as  neat  as  I  could  wish  about  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


463 


gills.     Being  here,  I  may  as  well  have  a  shave,  and  get  trimmed 
close." 

The  barber  stood  aghast ;  but  Mr.  Bailey  divested  himself 
of  his  neck-cloth,  and  sat  down  in  the  easy  shaving  chair  with 
all  the  dignity  and  confidence  in  life.  There  was  no  resisting 
his  manner.  The  evidence  of  sight  and  touch  became  as 
nothing.  His  chin  was  as  smooth  as  a  new-laid  egg  or  a 
scraped  Dutch  cheese ;  but  Poll  Sweedlepipe  wouldn't  have 
ventured  to  deny,  on  afhdavit,  that  he  had  the  beard  of  a 
Jewish  rabbi. 

"  Go  with  the  grain,  Poll,  all  round,  please,"  said  Mr. 
Bailey,  screwing  up  his  face  for  the  reception  of  the  lather. 
"  You  may  do  \\;ot  you  like  with  the  bits  of  whisker.  I  don't 
care  for  'em." 

The  meek  little  barber  stood  gazing  at  him  with  the  brush 
and  soap-dish  in  his  hand,  stirring  them  round  and  round  in  a 
ludicrous  uncertainty,  as  if  he  were  disabled  by  some  fascina- 
tion from  beginning.  At  last  he  made  a  dash  at  Mr.  Bailey's 
cheek.  Then  he  stopped  again,  as  if  the  ghost  of  a  beard  had 
suddenly  receded  from  his  touch  ;  but  receiving  mild  encour- 
agement from  Mr.  Bailey,  in  the  form  of  an  adjuration  to 
"Go  in  and  win,"  he  lathered  him  bountifully.  Mr.  Bailey 
smiled  through  the  suds  in  his  satisfaction. 

"•  Gently  over  the  stones,  Poll.  Go  a  tip-toe  over  the 
pimples  ! " 

Poll  Sweedlepipe  obeyed,  and  scraped  the  lather  off  again 
with  particular  care.  Mr.  Bailey  squinted  at  every  successive 
dab,  as  it  was  deposited  on  a  cloth  on  his  left  shoulder,  and 
seemed,  with  a  microscopic  eye,  to  detect  some  bristles  in  it  ; 
for  he  murmured  more  than  once,  "  Reether  redder  than  1 
could  wish.  Poll."  The  operation  being  concluded.  Poll  fell 
back  and  stared  at  him  again,  while  Mr.  Bailey,  wiping  his 
face  on  the  jack-towel,  remarked,  "  that  arter  late  hours  nothing 
freshened  up  a  man  so  much  as  a  easy  shave." 

He  was  in  the  act  of  tying  his  cravat  at  the  glass,  without 
his  coat,  and  Poll  had  wiped  his  razor,  ready  for  the  next  cus- 
tomer, when  Mrs.  Gamp,  coming  down  stairs,  looked  in  at  the 
shop-door  to  give  the  barber  neighborly  good-day.  Feeling 
for  her  unfortunate  situation,  in  having  conceived  a  regard  for 
himself  which  it  was  not  in  ihe  nature  of  things  that  he  could 
return,  Mr.  Bailey  hastened  to  soothe  her  with  words  of  kind- 
ness. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  said,  "  Sairah  !    I  needn't  ask  you  how  you've 


464  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

been  this  long  time,  for  you're  in  full  bloom.     All  a  blowin' 
and  a  growin'  ;  ain't  she,  Polly?  " 

"  Why,  drat  the  Bragian  boldness  of  that  boy  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Gamp,  though  not  displeased.  "  What  a  imperent  young 
sparrow  it  is  !  I  wouldn't  be  that  creetur's  mother  not  for  fifty 
jwund  !  " 

Mr.  Bailey  regarded  this  as  a  delicate  confession  of  her 
attachment,  and  a  hint  that  no  pecuniary  gain  could  recom- 
pense her  for  its  being  rendered  hopeless.  He  felt  flattered. 
Disinterested  affection  is  always  flattering. 

"  Ah,  dear  !  "  moaned  Mrs.  Gamp,  sinking  into  the  shaving 
chair.  "  That  there  blessed  Bull,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  has  done 
his  wery  best  to  conker  me.  Of  all  the  trying  inwalieges  in 
this  walley  of  the  shadder,  that  one  beats  'em  black  and  lilue." 

It  was  the  practice  of  Mrs.  Gamp  and  her  friends  in  the 
profession,  to  say  this  of  all  the  easy  customers  ;  as  having  at 
once  the  effect  of  discouraging  competitors  for  office,  and 
accountuig  for  the  necessity  of  high  living  on  the  part  of  the 
nurses. 

"  Talk  of  constitooshun  !  "  Mrs.  Gamp  observed.  "  A 
person's  constitooshun  need  be  made  of  Bricks  to  stand  it. 
Mrs.  Harris  jestly  says  to  me,  but  t'otlier  day,  '  Oh  !  Sairey 
Gamp,'  she  says,  'how  is  it  done!'  'Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am,'  I 
says  to  her,  '  we  gives  no  trust  ourselves,  and  put  a  deals  o' 
trust  elsevere  ;  these  is  our  religious  feelins,  and  we  finds  'em 
answer.'  'Sairey,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  '  sech  is  life.  Vich 
likeways  is  the  hend  of  all  things ! ' " 

The  barber  gave  a  soft  murmur,  as  much  as  to  say  that  Mrs. 
Harris's  remark,  though  perhaps  not  quite  so  intelligible  as 
could  be  desired  from  such  an  authority,  did  equal  honor  to 
her  head  and  to  her  heart. 

"  And  here,"  continued  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and  here  am  I  a 
goin  twenty  mile  in  distant,  on  as  wentersome  a  chance  as 
ever  any  one  as  monthlied  ever  run,  I  do  believe.  Says  Mrs. 
Harris,  with  a  woman's  and  a  mother's  art  a  beatin  in  her 
human  breast,  she  says  to  me,  '  You're  not  a  goin,  Saiiey, 
Lord  forgive  you  ! '  '  Why  am  I  not  a  going,  Mrs.  Harris  ? ' 
I  replies.  'Mrs.  Gill,'  I  says,  'wos  never  wrong  with  six; 
and  is  it  likely,  ma'am — I  ask  you  as  a  mother — that  she  will 
begin  to  be  unreg'lar  now.  Often  and  often  have  I  heerd  him 
say,'  I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris,  meaning  Mr.  Gill,  'that  he  would 
back  his  wife  agen  Moore's  almanack,  to  name  the  very  day 
and  hour,  for  ninepence  farden.     Is  it  likely,  ma'am,'  I  says, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  465 

*  as  she  will  fail  this  once  ? '  says  Mrs.  Harris,  '  No,  ma'am, 
not  in  the  course  of  nater.  But,'  she  says,  the  tears  a  fillin  in 
her  eyes,  'you  knows  much  betterer  than  me,  with  your  ex- 
perienge,  how  little  puts  us  out.  A  Punch's  show,'  she  says, 
'a  chimbley  sweep,  a  newfundlandog,  or  a  drunkin  man  a 
comin  round  the  corner  sharp,  may  do  it.'  So  it  may,  Mr. 
Sweedlepipes,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  there's  no  deniging  of  it  ; 
and  though  my  books  is  clear  for  a  full  week,  I  takes  a  anxious 
art  along  with  me,  I  do  assure  you,  sir." 

"  You're  so  full  of  zeal,  you  see  !  "  said  Poll.  "  You  worrit 
yourself  so." 

"  Worrit  myself  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  raising  her  hands  and 
turning  up  her-  eyes.  "  You  speak  truth  in  that,  sir,  if  you 
never  speaks  no  more,  'twixt  this  and  when  two  Sundays  jines 
together.  I  feels  the  sufferins  of  other  people  more  than  I 
feels  my  own,  though  no  one  mayn't  suppoge  it.  The  families 
I've  had,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "if  all  was  knowed,  and  credit 
done  where  credit's  doo,  would  take  a  week  to  chris'en  at 
Saint  Polge's  fontin  !  " 

"Where's  the  patient  goin  .' "  asked  Sweedlepipe. 

"  Into  Har'fordshire,  which  is  his  native  air.  J3ut  native 
airs  nor  native  graces  neither,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  "won't 
bring  hi7n  round." 

"  So  bad  as  that  ?  "  inquired  the  wistful  barber.  "  In- 
deed !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  shook  her  head  mysteriously,  and  pursed  up 
her  lips.  "  There's  fevers  of  the  mind,"  she  said,  "as  well 
as  body.  You  may  take  your  slime  drafts  till  you  flies  into 
the  air  with  effenvescence  ;  but  you  won't  cure  that." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  barber,  opening  his  eyes,  and  putting  on 
his  raven  aspect.   "  Lor  !  " 

"  No.  You  may  make  yourself  as  light  as  any  gash  bal- 
loon," said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  talk,  when  you're  wrong  in 
your  head,  and  when  you're  in  your  sleep,  of  certain  things  ; 
and  you'll  be  heavy  in  your  mind." 

"  Of  what  kind  of  things  now  ?  "  inquired  Poll,  greedily 
biting  his  nails  in  his  great  interest.     "  (jhosts  .'' " 

Mrs.  Gamp,  who  perhaps  had  been  already  tempted  further 
than  she  had  intended  to  go,  by  the  barber's  stimulating  cu- 
riosity, gave  a  sniff  of  uncommon  significance,  and  said,  it  didn't 
signify. 

"  I'm  a  going  down  with  my  patient  in  the  coach  this  arter- 
noon,"  she  proceeded.     "  I'm  a  going  to  stop  with  him  a  day 

30 


465  MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT. 

or  so,  till  he  gets  a  coimtr)^  nuss  (drat  them  country'  nusses, 
much  the  orkard  hussies  knows  about  their  bis'ness)  ;  and  then 
I'm  a  comin'  back ;  and  that's  my  trouble,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes. 
But  I  hope  that  everythink'll  only  go  on  right  and  comfortable 
as  long  as  I'm  away;  perwisin  which,  as  Mrs.  Harris  says, 
Mrs.  Gill  is  welcome  to  choose  her  own  time  :  all  times  of  the 
day  and  night  bein'  equally  the  same  to  me." 

During  the  progress  of  the  foregoing  remarks,  which  Mrs. 
Gamp  had  addressed  exclusively  to  the  Barber,  Mr.  Bailey 
had  been  tying  his  cravat,  getting  on  his  coat,  and  making 
hideous  faces  at  himself  in  the  glass.  Being  now  personally 
addressed  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  he  turned  round,  and  mingled  in 
the  conversation. 

"  You  ain't  been  in  the  City,  I  suppose,  sir,  since  we  was 
all  three  there  together,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  at  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit's  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  have,  Sairah.     I  was  there,  last  night.' 

"  Last  night !  "  cried  the  Barber. 

"  Yes,  Poll,  reether  so.  You  can  call  it  this  morning  if  you 
like  to  be  particular.     He  dined  with  us." 

"Who  does  that  young  Limb  mean  by  '  hus } '  "  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  with  most  impatient  emphasis. 

"  Me  and  my  Governor,  Sairah.  He  dined  at  our  house. 
We  wos  very  merrv',  Sairah.  So  much  so,  that  I  was  obliged 
to  see  him  home  in  a  hackney  coach  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning."  It  was  on  the  tip  of  the  boy's  tongue  to  relate 
what  had  followed  ;  but  remembering  how  easily  it  might  be 
carried  to  his  master's  ears,  and  the  repeated  cautions  he  had 
had  from  Mr.  Crimple  "  not  to  chatter,"  he  checked  himself; 
adding  only,   "  She  was  sitting  up,  expecting  him." 

"And  all  things  considered,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  sharply, 
"  she  might  have  know'd  better  than  to  go  a  tiring  herself  out, 
by  doin'  any  think  of  the  sort.  Did  they  seem  pretty  pleasant 
together,  sir  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  Bailey,  "pleasant  enough." 

"  I'm  glad  on  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  second  snifiE  of 
significance. 

"They  haven't  been  married  so  long,"  observed  Poll,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  "  that  they  need  be  anything  but  pleasant  yet 
awhile." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  third  significant  signal. 

"Especially,"  pursued  the  Barber,  "when  the  gentleman 
bears  sucfi  a  character  as  you  gave  him." 


MARThY  CHUZZLEIVIT.  467 

"  I  speak  as  I  find,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Forbid  it  should  be  otherways  !  But  we  never  knows  wot's 
hidden  in  each  other's  hearts  ;  and  if  we  had  glass  winders 
there,  we'd  need  keep  the  shetters  up,  some  on  us,  I  do  assure 
you  !  " 

"But  you  don't  mean  to  say,"   Poll  Sweedlepipe  began. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  cutting  him  very  short,  "  I  don't. 
Don't  think  I  do.  The  torters  of  the  Imposition  shouldn't 
make  me  own  I  did.  All  I  says  is,"  added  the  good  woman 
rising  and  folding  her  shawl  about  her,  "that  the  Bull's  a 
waitin',  and  the  precious  moments  is  a  flyin'  fast." 

The  little  barber  having  in  his  eager  curiosity  a  great  de- 
sire to  see  Mrs'.' Gamp's  patient,  proposed  to  Mr.  Bailey  that 
they  should  accompany  her  to  the  Bull,  and  witness  the  de- 
parture of  the  coach.  That  young  gentleman  assenting,  they 
all  went  out  together. 

Arriving  at  the  tavern,  Mrs.  Gamp  (who  was  full-dressed 
for  the  journey,  in  her  latest  suit  of  mourning)  left  her  friends 
to  entertain  themselves  in  the  yard,  while  she  ascended  to  the 
sick  room,  where  her  fellow-laborer  Mrs.  Prig  was  dressing 
the  invalid. 

He  was  so  wasted,  that  it  seemed  as  if  his  bones  would 
rattle  when  they  moved  him.  His  cheeks  were  sunken,  and  his 
eyes  unnaturally  large.  He  lay  back  in  the  easy-chair  like  one 
more  dead  than  living  ;  and  rolled  his  languid  eyes  towards 
the  door  when  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared,  as  painfully  as  if  their 
weight  alone  were  burdensome  to  move. 

"And  how  are  we  by  this  time  ?"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed. 
"We  looks  charming." 

"  We  looks  a  deal  charminger  than  we  are,  then,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Prig,  a  little  chafed  in  her  temper.  "  We  got 
out  of  bed  back'ards,  I  think,  for  we're  as  cross  as  two  sticks. 
I  never  see  sich  a  man.  He  wouldn't  have  been  washed,  if 
he'd  had  his  own  way." 

"  She  put  the  soap  in  my  mouth,"  said  the  unfortunate  pa- 
tient, feebly. 

"  Couldn't  you  keep  it  shut  then  ? "  retorted  Mrs.  Prig. 
"  Who  do  you  think's  to  wash  one  fcater,  and  miss  another, 
and  wear  one's  eyes  out  with  all  manner  of  fine-work  of  that 
description,  for  half-a-crown  a  day  !  If  you  wants  to  be  titti- 
vated,  you  must  pay  accordin." 

"  Oh  dear  me  !  "  cried  the  patient,  "  oh  dear,  dear !  " 

"There!"   said  Mrs.  Prig,  "  that's   the   way  he's  been  a 


468  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

conducting  of  himself,  Sarah,  ever  since  I  got  him  out  of  bed, 
if  you'll  believe  it." 

"Instead  of  being  grateful,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observ^ed,  "for 
all  our  little  ways.     Oh,  fie  for  shame,  sir,  fie  for  shame  !  " 

Here  Mrs.  Prig  seized  the  patient  by  the  chin,  and  began 
to  rasp  his  unhappy  head  with  a  hair-brush. 

"  i  suppose  you  don't  like  that,  neither  !  "  she  obser\^ed, 
stopping  to  look  at  him. 

it  was  just  possible  that  he  didn't,  for  the  brush  was  a 
specimen  of  the  hardest  kind  of  instnunent  producible  by 
modern  art ;  and  his  ver}^  eyelids  were  red  with  the  friction. 
Mrs.  Prig  was  gratified  to  observe  the  correctness  of  her  sup- 
position, and  said  triumphantly,  "  she  know'd  as  much." 

When  his  hair  was  smootlied  down  comfortably  into  his 
eyes,  Mrs.  Prig  and  Mrs.  Gamp  put  on  his  neckerchief  :  ad- 
justing his  shirt-collar  with  great  nicety,  so  that  the  starched 
points  should  also  invade  those  organs,  and  afilict  them  with 
an  artificial  ophthalmia.  His  waistcoat  and  coat  were  next 
arranged  :  and  as  e\-ery  button  was  wrenched  into  a  wrong 
button-hole,  and  the  order  of  his  boots  was  reversed,  he  pre- 
sented on  the  whole  rather  a  melancholy  appearance. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  right,"  said  the  poor  weak  invalid.  "  I 
feel  as  if  I  was  in  somebody  else's  clothes.  I'm  all  on  one 
side  ;  and  you've  made  one  of  my  legs  shorter  than  the  other. 
There's  a  bottle  in  my  pocket  too.  What  do  you  make  me 
sit  upon  a  bottle  for  ?  " 

"  Deuce  take  the  man  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  drawing  it 
forth.  "  If  he  ain't  been  and  got  my  night-bottle  here.  I 
made  a  little  cupboard  of  his  coat  when  it  hung  behind  the 
door,  and  quite  forgot  it,  Betsey.  You'll  find  a  ingun  or  two, 
and  a  little  tea  and  sugar  in  his  t'other  pocket,  my  dear,  if 
you'll  just  be  good  enough  to  take  'em  out." 

Betsey  produced  the  property  in  question,  together  w'ith 
some  other  articles  of  general  chandlery  ;  and  Mrs.  Gamp 
transferred  them  to  her  own  pocket,  which  was  a  species  of 
nankeen  pannier.  Refreshment  then  arrived  in  the  form  of 
chops  and  strong  ale.  for  the  ladies,  and  a  basin  of  beef-tea 
for  the  patient :  which  refection  was  barely  at  an  end  when 
John  Westlock  appeared. 

"  Up  and  dressed  !  "  cried  John,  sitting  down  beside  him. 
"  That's  brave.     How  do  vou  feel  .^  " 

"  Much  better.      But  very  weak." 

"  No  wonder.  You  have  had  a  hard  bout  of  it.  But  country 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  469 

air,  and  change  of  scene,"  said  John,  "  will  make  another  man 
of  you  !  Why,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  he  added,  laughing,  as  he  kindly 
arranged  the  sick  man's  garments,  "you  have  odd  notions  of 
a  gentleman's  dress  !  " 

"  Mr.  Lewsome  an't  a  easy  gent  to  get  into  his  clothes, 
sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied  with  dignity ;  "  as  me  and  Betsey 
Prig  can  certify  afore  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Uncommon  Coun- 
sellors, if  needful  !  " 

John  at  that  moment  was  standing  close  in  front  of  the 
sick  man,  in  the  act  of  releasing  him  from  the  torture  of  the 
collars  before  mentioned,  when  he  said  in  a  whisper : 

"  Mr.  Westlock  !  I  don't  w^ish  to  be  overheard.  I  have 
something  very  particular  and  strange  to  say  to  you  :  some- 
thing that  has  been  a  dreadful  weight  on  my  mind,  through 
this  long  illness." 

Quick  in  all  his  motions,  John  was  turning  round  to  desire 
the  women  to  leave  the  room  :  when  the  sick  man  held  him 
by  the  sleeve. 

"  Not  now.  I've  not  the  strength.  I've  not  the  courage. 
May  I  tell  it  when  I  have  .?  May  I  write  it,  if  I  lind  that 
easier  and  better  ?  " 

"  May  you  !  "  cried  John.  "  Wh)',  Lewsome,  what  is  this  !  " 
"  Don't  ask  me  what  it  is.  It's  unnatural  and  cruel. 
Frightful  to  think  of.  Frightful  to  tell.  Frightful  to  know. 
Frightful  to  have  helped  in.  Let  me  kiss  your  hand  for  all 
your  goodness  to  me.  Be  kinder  still,  and  don't  ask  me  what 
it  is  !  " 

At  first,  John  gazed  at  him,  in  great  surprise  ;  but  re- 
membering how  very  much  reduced  he  was,  and  how  recently 
his  brain  had  been  on  fire  with  fever,  believed  that  he  was 
laboring  under  some  imaginary  horror,  or  despondent  fancy. 
For  farther  information  on  this  point,  he  took  an  opportunity 
of  drawing  Mrs.  Gamp  aside,  while  Betsey  Prig  was  wrapping 
him  in  cloaks  and  shawls,  and  asked  her  whether  he  was  quite 
collected  in  his  mind. 

"Oh  bless  you,  no!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "He  hates  his 
nusses  to  this  hour.  Thev  alwavs  does  it,  sir.  It's  a  certain 
sign.  If  you  could  have  heard  the  poor  dear  soul  a  findin' 
fault  with  me  and  Betsey  Prig,  not  half  an  hour  ago,  you 
would  have  wondered  how  it  is  we  don't  get  fretted  to  the 
tomb." 

This  almost  confirmed  John  in  his  suspicion  ;  so,  not  tak- 
ing what  had  passed  into  any  serious  account,  he  resumed 


47 o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

his  former  cheerful  manner,  and  assisted  by  Mrs.  Gamp  and 
Betsey  Prig,  conducted  Lewsome  down  stairs  to  tlie  coach : 
just  then  upon  the  point  of  starting. 

Poll  Sweedlepipe  was  at  the  door  with  his  arms  tight 
folded  and  his  eyes  wide  open,  and  looked  on  with  absorbing 
interest,  while  the  sick  man  was  slowly  moved  into  the 
vehicle.  His  bony  hands  and  haggard  face  impressed  Poll 
wonderfully  ;  and  he  informed  Mr.  Bailey,  in  confidence,  that 
he  wouldn't  have  missed  seeing  him  for  a  pound.  Mr.  Bailey, 
who  was  of  a  different  constitution,  remarked,  that  he  would 
have  stayed  away  for  five  shillings. 

It  was  a  troublesome  matter  to  adjust  Mrs.  Gamp's  lug- 
gage to  her  satisfaction  ;  for  every  package  belonging  to  that 
lady  had  the  inconvenient  property  of  requiring  to  be  put  in 
a  boot  by  itself,  and  to  have  no  other  luggage  near  it,  on  pain 
of  actions  at  law  for  heavy  damages  against  the  proprietors 
of  the  coach.  The  umbrella  with  the  circular  patch  was  par- 
ticularly hard  to  be  got  rid  of,  and  several  times  thrust  out  its 
battered  brass  nozzle  from  improper  crevices  and  chinks,  to 
the  great  terror  of  the  other  passengers.  Indeed,  in  her  in- 
tense anxiety  to  find  a  haven  of  refuge  for  this  chattle,  Mrs. 
Gamp  so  often  moved  it,  in  the  course  of  five  minutes,  that  it 
seemed  not  one  umbrella  but  fifty.  At  length  it  was  lost,  or 
said  to  be  ;  and  for  the  next  five  minutes  she  was  face  to  face 
with  the  coachman,  go  wherever  he  might,  protesting  that  it 
should  be  "  made  good,"  though  she  took  the  question  to  the 
House  of  Commons. 

At  last,  her  bundle,  and  her  pattens,  and  her  basket,  and 
everything  else,  being  disposed  of,  she  took  a  friendly  leave 
of  Poll  and  Mr.  Bailey,  dropped  a  curtsey  to  John  Westlock, 
and  parted  as  from  a  cherished  member  of  the  sisterhood  with 
Betsey  Prig. 

"  Wishin'  you  lots  of  sickness,  my  darling  creetur,"  Mrs. 
Gamp  observed,  "  and  good  places.  It  won't  be  long,  I  hope, 
afore  we  works  together,  oft"  and  on,  again,  Betsey  ;  and  may 
our  next  meetin'  be  at  a  large  family's,  where  they  all  takes  it 
reg'lar,  one  from  another,  turn  and  turn  about,  and  has  it 
business-like." 

"  I  don't  care  how  soon  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Prig;  "  nor  how 
many  weeks  it  lasts." 

Mrs.  Gamp  with  a  reply  in  a  congenial  spirit  was  backing 
to  the  coach,  when  she  came  in  contact  with  a  lady  and  gentle- 
man who  were  passing  along  the  footway. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT.  47 1 

"Take  care,  take  care  here!"  cried  the  gentleman. 
"  Halloo  !     My  clear  !     Why,  it's  Mrs.  Gamp  !  " 

"  What,  Mr.  Mould  !  "  exclaimed  the  nurse.  "  And  Mrs. 
Mould  !  who  would  have  thought  as  we  should  ever  have  a 
meetin'  here,  I'm  sure  !  " 

"  Going  out  of  town,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  "  cried  Mould.  "  That's 
unusual,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"■  It  is  unusual,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  only  for  a  day 
or  two  at  most.    The  gent,"  she  whispered,  "  as  I  spoke  about." 

"  What,  in  the  coach !  "  cried  Mould.  "  The  one  you 
thought  of  recommending  ?  Very  odd.  My  dear,  this  will 
interest  you.  The  gentleman  that  Mrs.  Gamp  thought  likely 
to  suit  us,  is  in 'the  coach,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Mould  was  greatly  interested. 

"  Here,  my  dear.  You  can  stand  upon  the  door-step," 
said  Mould,  "  and  take  a  look  at  him.  Ha  !  There  he  is. 
Where's  my  glass .-'  Oh  !  all  right.  I've  got  it.  Do  you  see 
him,  my  dear  1  " 

"  Quite  plain,"  said  Mrs.  Mould. 

"  Upon  my  life  you  know,  this  is  a  very  singular  circum- 
stance," said  Mould,  quite  delighted.  "  I'his  is  the  sort  of 
thing,  my  clear,  I  wouldn't  have  missed  on  any  account.  It 
tickles  one.  It's  interesting.  It's  almost  a  little  play,  you 
know.  Ah  !  There  he  is  !  To  be  sure.  Looks  poorly,  Mrs. 
M.,  don't  he  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mould  assented. 

"  He's  coming  our  way,  perhaps,  after  all,"  said  Mould. 
"Who  knows  !  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  show  him  some  little 
attention,  really.  He  don't  seem  a  stranger  to  me.  Tm\ery 
much  inclined  to  move  my  hat,  my  dear." 

"  He's  looking  hard  this  way,"  said  Mrs.  Mould. 

"  Then  I  will  !  "  cried  Mould.  "  How  d'ye  do,  sir  ?  I 
wish  you  good  day.  Ha  !  He  bows  too.  Very  gentlemanl}^ 
Mrs.  Gamp  has  the  cards  in  her  pocket,  I  have  no  doubt. 
This  is  very  singular,  my  dear — and  very  pleasant.  1  am  not 
superstitious,  but  it  really  eeenis  as  if  one  was  destined  to  pay 
him  those  little  melancholy  civilities  w-hich  belong  to  our 
peculiar  line  of  business.  There  can  be  no  kind  of  objection 
to  your  kissing  your  hand  to  him,  my  dear." 

Mrs.  Mould  did  so. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  Mould.  "  He's  evidently  gratified.  Poor 
fellow  !  I'm  quite  glad  you  did  it,  my  love.  Bye  bye,  Mrs. 
Gamp  !  "  waving  his  hand.     "  There  he  goes  ;  there  he  goes  !  "- 


472  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

So  he  did  ;  for  the  coach  rolled  off  as  the  words  were 
spoken.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mould,  in  high  good  humor,  went 
their  merry  way.  Mr.  Bailey  retired  with  Poll  Sweedlepipe 
as  soon  as  possible  ;  but  some  little  time  elapsed  before  he 
could  remove  his  friend  from  the  ground,  owing  to  the  impres- 
sion wrought  upon  the  barber's  nerves  by  Mrs.  Prig,  whom  he 
pronounced,  in  admiration  of  her  beard,  to  be  a  woman  of 
transcendent  charms. 

When  the  light  cloud  of  bustle  hanging  round  the  coach 
was  thus  dispersed,  Nadgett  was  seen  in  the  darkest  box  of 
the  Bull  coffee-room,  looking  wistfully  up  at  the  clock — as  if 
the  man  who  never  ajDpearecl  were  a  little  behind  his  time. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 


PROVES  THAT  CHANGES  MAY  BE  RUNG  IN  THE  BEST-REGU- 
LATED FAMILIES,  AND  THAT  MR.  PECKSNIFF  WAS  A  SPECIAL 
HAND   AT   A    TRIPLE-BOB-MAJUR. 

As  the  surgeon's  first  care  after  amputating  a  limb  is  to 
take  up  the  arteries  the  cruel  knife  has  severed,  so  it  is  the 
duty  of  this  history,  which  in  its  remorseless  course  has  cut 
from  the  Pecksnifhan  trunk  its  right  arm,  Mercy,  to  look  to 
the  parent  stem,  and  see  how  in  all  its  various  ramifications  it 
got  on  without  her. 

And  first  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  it  may  be  observed,  that  having 
provided  for  his  youngest  daughter  that  choicest  of  blessings, 
a  tender  and  indulgent  husband  ;  and  having  gratified  the 
dearest  wish  of  his  parental  heart  by  establishing  her  in  life 
so  happily ;  he  renewed  his  youth,  and  spreading  the  plumage 
of  his  own  bright  conscience,  felt  himself  equal  to  all  kinds  of 
flights.  It  is  customary  with  fathers  in  stage-pkys,  after 
giving  their  daughters  to  the  men  of  their  hearts,  to  congratu- 
late themselves  on  having  no  other  business  on  their  hands 
but  to  die  immediately :  though  it  is  rarely  found  that  they 
are  in  a  hurry  to  do  it.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  being  a  father  of  a 
more  sage  and  practical  class,  appeared  to  think  that  his  im- 
mediate business  was  to  live  ;  and  having  deprived  himself  of 
one  comfort,  to  surround  himself  with  others. 


MARTIN  CirUZZLK  WIT. 


473 


But  however  much  inclined  the  good  man  was  to  be  jocose 
and  playful,  and  in  the  garden  of  his  fancy  to  disport  himself  (if 
one  may  say  so),  like  an  architectural  kitten,  he  had  one  impedi- 
ment constantly  opposed  to  him.  The  gentle  Cherry,  stung 
by  a  sense  of  slight  and  injur}',  which  far  from  softening  down 
or  wearing  out,  rankled  and  festered  in  her  heart,  was  in  flat 
rebellion.  She  waged  fierce  war  against  her  dear  Papa  ;  she  led 
her  parent  what  is  usually  called,  for  want  of  abetter  figure  of 
speech,  the  life  of  a  dog.  But  never  did  that  dog  live,  in 
kennel,  stable-yard,  or  house,  whose  life  was  half  as  hard  as 
Mr.  PecksnitY's  with  his  gentle  child. 

The  father  and  daughter  were  sitting  at  their  breakfast. 
Tom  had  retired,  and  they  were  alone.  Mr.  Pecksniff  frowned 
at  first  ;  but  having  cleared  his  brow,  looked  stealthily  at  his 
child.  Her  nose  was  very  red  indeed,  and  screwed  up  tight, 
with  hostile  preparation. 

"  Cherry,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  what  is  amiss  between 
us  .■*     My  child,  why  are  we  disunited  .-'  " 

Miss  Pecksniff's  answer  was  scarcely  a  response  to  this 
gush  of  affection,  for  it  was  simply,  "  Bother,  Pa !  " 

"  Bother  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  tone  of  anguish. 

"Oh!  'tis  too  late.  Pa,"  said  his  daughter,  calmly,  "  to 
talk  to  me  like  this.  1  know  what  it  means,  and  what  its  value 
is." 

"  This  is  hard  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  addressing  his 
breakfast-cup.  "  This  is  very  hard  !  She  is  my  child.  I 
carried  her  in  my  arms,  when  she  wore  shapeless  worsted  shoes 
— I  might  say,  mufflers — many  years  ago  !  " 

"  You  needn't  taunt  me  with  that,  Pa,"  retorted  Cherry, 
with  a  spiteful  look.  "  I  am  not  so  many  years  older  than 
my  sister,  either,  though  she  is  married  to  your  friend  !  " 

"  Ah,  human  nature,  human  nature  !  Poor  human  nature  !  " 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  at  human  nature,  as  if  he 
didn't  belong  to  it.  "  To  think  that  this  discord  should  arise 
from  such  a  cause !  oh  dear,  oh  dear  !  " 

"  From  such  a  cause  indeed  !  "  cried  Cherry.  "  State  the 
real  cause.  Pa,  or  I'll  state  it  myself.     Mind  !     I  will !  " 

Perhaps  the  energy  with  which  she  said  this  was  infectious. 
However  that  may  be,  Mr.  Pecksniff  -changed  his  tone  and 
the  expression  of  his  face,  for  one  of  anger  if  not  downright 
violence,  when  he  said  : 

"  You  will  !  you  have.  You  did  yesterday.  You  do  al- 
ways.    You  have  no  decency  ;  you   make  no  secret  of  your 


474 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


temper  ;  you  have  exposed  yourself  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  a  hun- 
dred tunes." 

"  Myself !  "  cried  Cherry,  with  a  bitter  smile.  "  Oh,  in- 
deed !     I  don't  mind  that." 

"  Me  too,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

His  daughter  answered -with  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  And  since  we  have  come  to  an  explanation,  Charity," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  rolling  his  head  portentously,  "  let  me  tell 
you  that  I  won't  allow  it.  None  of  your  nonsense,  Miss !  I 
won't  permit  it  to  be  done." 

"I  shall  do,"  said  Charity,  rocking  her  chair  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  raising  her  voice  to  a  high  pitch,  "  I  shall 
do.  Pa,  wliat  I  please  and  what  I  have  done.  1  am  not  going 
to  be  crushed  in  everything,  depend  upon  it.  I've  been  more 
shamefully  used  than  anybody  ever  was  in  this  world,"  here 
she  began  to  cry  and  sob,  "  and  may  expect  the  worst  treat- 
ment from  you,  I  know.  But  I  don't  care  for  that.  No  I 
don't  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  made  so  desperate  by  the  loud  tone  in 
which  she  spoke,  that,  after  looking  about  him  in  frantic  un- 
certainty for  some  means  of  softening  it,  he  rose  and  shook 
her  until  the  ornamental  bow  of  hair  upon  her  head  nodded 
like  a  plume.  She  was  so  very  much  astonished  by  this 
assault  that  it  really  had  the  desired  effect. 

"  I'll  do  it  again  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  he  resumed  his 
seat,  and  fetched  his  breath,  "  if  you  dare  to  talk  in  that  loud 
manner.  How  do  you  mean  about  being  shamefully  used  .-' 
If  Mr.  Jonas  chose  your  sister  in  preference  to  you,  who  could 
help  it,  I  should  wish  to  know.     What  have  /to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Wasn't  I  made  a  convenience  of  .''  Wern't  my  feelings 
trifled  with  ?  Didn't  he  address  himself  to  me  first?"  sobbed 
Cherrj^  clasping  her  hands  ;  '•  and  oh  good  gracious,  that  I 
should  live  to  be  shook  !  " 

"  You'll  live  to  be  shaken  again,"  returned  her  parent,  "if 
you  drive  me  to  that  means  of  maintaining  the  decorum  of 
this  humble  roof.  You  surprise  me.  I  wonder  you  have  not 
more  .spirit.  If  Mr.  Jonas  didn't  care  for  you,  how  could  you 
wish  to  have  him  ?  " 

"  /  wish  to  have  him  !  "  exclaimed  Cherry,  "  /  wish  to 
have  him,  Pa  !  " 

"  Then  what  are  you  making  all  of  this  piece  of  work  for," 
retorted  her  father,  "  if  you  didn't  wish  to  have  him  ?  " 

"  Because  I  was  treated  with  duplicity,"  said  Cherry;  "and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


475 


because  my  own  sister  and  my  own  father  conspired  against 
me.  I  am  not  angiy  with  her"  said  Cherry,  looking  mucli 
more  angry  than  e\-er.  "  I  pity  her.  I'm  sorry  for  her.  1 
know  the  fate  that's  in  store  for  her,  with  that  Wretch." 

"  Mr.  Jonas  will  sur\ive  your  calling  him  a  wretch,  my 
child,  I  dare  say,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  returning  resigna- 
tion ;  "  but  call  him  what  you  like  and  make  an  end  of  it." 

"  Not  an  end,  Pa,"  said  Charity.  "  No,  not  an  end.  That's 
not  the  only  point  on  which  we're  not  agreed.  I  won't  sub- 
mit to  it.  It's  better  you  should  know  that,  at  once.  No  ;  I 
won't  submit  to  it  indeed,  Pa  !  I  am  not  quite  a  fool,  and  I 
am  not  blind.     All  I've  got  to  say  is,  I  won't  submit  to  it." 

Whatever  she  meant,  she  shook  Mr.  Pecksniff  now  ;  for 
his  lame  attempt  to  seem  composed  was  melancholy  in  the 
last  degree.  His  anger  changed  to  meekness,  and  his  words 
were  mild  and  fawning. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  ;  "  if  in  the  short  excitement  of  an 
angry  moment  I  resorted  to  an  unjustifiable  means  of  sup- 
pressing a  little  outbreak  calculated  to  injure  you  as  well  as 
myself — it's  possible  I  may  have  done  so  ;  perhaps  1  did — I 
ask  your  pardon.  A  father  asking  pardon  of  his  child,'.'  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is,  I  believe,  a  spectacle  to  soften  the  most 
rugged  nature." 

But  it  didn't  at  all  soften  Miss  Pecksniff :  perhaps  because 
her  nature  was  not  rugged  enough.  On  the  contrary,  she  per- 
sisted in  saying,  over  and  over  again,  that  she  wasn't  quite  a 
fool,  and  wasn't  blind,  and  wouldn't  submit  to  it. 

"  You  labor  under  some  mistake,  my  child  !  "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff  :  "  but  I  will  not  ask  you  what  it  is  ;  I  don't  desire 
to  know.  No,  pray !  "  he  added,  holding  out  his  hand  and 
coloring  again,  "  let  us  avoid  the  subject,  my  dear,  whatever 
it  is!" 

"  It's  quite  right  that  the  subject  should  be  avoided  be- 
tween us,  sir,"  said  Cherry.  "  But  I  wish  to  be  able  to  avoid 
it  altogether,  and  consequently  must  beg  you  to  provide  me 
with  a  home." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  about  the  room,  and  said  "  A  home, 
my  child  ! " 

"  Another  home,  Papa,"  said  Cherry  with  increasing  state- 
liness.  "  Place  me  at  Mrs.  Todgers's  or  somewhere,  on  an 
independent  footing  ;  but  I  will  not  live  here,  if  such  is  to  be 
the  case." 

It  is  possible  that  Miss  Pecksniff  saw  in  Mrs.  Todgers's  a 


4^6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

vision  of  entliusiastic  men,  pining  to  fall,  in  adoration,  at  her 
feet.  It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  new-born  juve- 
nility, saw  in  the  suggestion  of  that  same  establishment,  an 
easy  means  of  relieving  himself  from  an  irksome  charge  in 
the'  way  of  temper  and  watchfulness.  It  is  undoubtedly  a 
fact  that  in  the  attentive  ears  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  proposi- 
tion did  not  sound  quite  like  the  dismal  knell  of  all  his  hopes. 

But  he  was  a  man  of  great  feeling,  and  acute  sensibility  ; 
and  he  squeezed  his  pocket-handkerchief  against  his  eyes  with 
both  hands — as  such  men  always  do  :  especially  when  they 
are  observed.  "  One  of  my  birds,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  said,  "  has 
left  me  for  the  stranger's  breast ;  the  other  would  take  wing 
to  Todgers's  I  Well,  well,  what  am  I .?  I  don't  know  what  I 
am,  exactly.     Never  mind  !  " 

Even  this  remark,  made  more  pathetic  perhaps  by  his 
breaking  down  in  the  middle  of  it,  had  no  effect  upon  Charity. 
She  was  grim,  rigid,  and  inflexible. 

"  But  I  have  ever,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  sacrificed  my 
children's  happiness  to  my  own — I  mean  my  own  happiness 
to  my  children's — and  1  will  not  begin  to  regulate  my  life  by 
other' rules  of  conduct  now.  If  you  can  be  happier  at  Mrs. 
Todgers's  than  in  your  father's  house,  my  dear,  go  to  Mrs. 
Todgers's  !  Do  not  think  of  me,  my  girl  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
with  emotion  :   "I  shall  get  on  pretty  well,  no  doubt." 

Miss  Charity,  who  knew  he  had  a  secret  pleasure  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  proposed  change,  suppressed  her  own, 
and  went  on  to  negotiate  the  terms.  His  views  upon  this 
'subject  were  at  first  so  very  limited  that  another  difference, 
involving  possibly  another  shaking,  threatened  to  ensue ;  but 
by  degrees  they  came  to  something  like  an  understanding,  and 
the  storm  blew  over.  Indeed,  Miss  Charity's  idea  was  so 
agreeable  to  both,  that  it  would  have  been  strange  if  they  had 
not  come  to  an  amicable  agreement.  It  was  soon  arranged 
between  them  that  the  project  should  be  tried,  and  that  im- 
mediately ;  and  that  Cherry's  not  being  well,  and  needing 
change  of  scene,  and  wishing  to  be  near  her  sister,  should 
form  the  excuse  for  her  departure,  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and 
Mary,  to  both  of  whom  she  had  pleaded  indisposition  for  some 
time  past.  These  premises  agreed  on,  Mr.  Pecksniff  gave 
her  his  blessing,  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  self-denying  man 
who  had  made  a  hard  sacrifice,  but  comforted  himself  with 
the  reflection  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward.  Thus  they  were 
reconciled  for  the  first  time  since  that  not  easily  forgiven 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


477 


night,  when  Mr.  Jonas,  repudiating  the  elder,  had  confessed  his 
passion  for  the  younger  sister,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  abetted 
him  on  moral  grounds. 

But  how  happened  it — in  the  name  of  an  unexpected  addi- 
tion to  that  small  family,  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the  World, 
wliatever  and  wherever  they  may  be,  how  happened  it — that 
]\'Ir.  Pecksniff  and  his  daughter  were  about  to  part  ?  How 
happened  it  that  their  mutual  relations  were  so  greatly  al- 
tered .''  Why  was  Miss  Pecksniff  so  clamorous  to  have  it 
understood  that  she  was  neither  blind  nor  foolish,  and  she 
wouldn't  bear  it.  It  is  not  possible  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
any  thoughts  of  marr}'ing  again  !  or  that  his  daughter  with 
the  sharp  eye  of  a  single  woman,  fathomed  his  design. 

Let  us  inquire  into  this. 

Mr.  Pecksniif,  as  a  man  without  reproach,  from  whom  the 
breath  of  slander  passed  like  common  breath  from  any  other 
polished  surface,  could  afford  to  do  what  common  men  could 
not.  He  knew  the  purity  of  his  own  motives  ;  and  when  he 
had  a  motive  worked  at  it  as  only  a  very  good  man  (or  a  very 
bad  one)  can.  Did  he  set  before  himself  any  strong  and  pal- 
pable motives  for  taking  a  second  wife  t  Yes  :  and  not  one 
or  two  of  them,  but  a  combination  of  very  many. 

Old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  had  gradually  undergone  an  impor- 
tant change.  Even  upon  the  night  when  he  made  such  an 
ill-timed  arrival  at  JMr.  Pecksniff's  house,  he  was  comparatively 
subdued  and  easy  to  deal  with.  This  Mr.  Pecksniff  attributed, 
at  the  time,  to  the  effect  his  brother's  death  had  had  upon 
him.  But  from  that  hour  his  character  seemed  to  have 
modified  by  regular  degrees,  and  to  have  softened  down  into 
a  dull  indifference  for  almost  every  one  but  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
His  looks  were  much  the  same  as  ever,  but  his  mind  was 
singularly  altered.  It  was  not  that  this  or  that  passion  stood 
out  in  brighter  or  in  dimmer  hues  ;  but  that  the  color  of  the 
whole  man  was  faded.  As  one  trait  disappeared,  no  other 
trait  sprung  up  to  take  its  place.  His  senses  dwindled  too. 
He  was  less  keen  of  sight  ;  was  deaf  sometimes  ;  took  little 
notice  of  what  passed  before  him  ;  and  would  be  profoundly 
taciturn  for  days  together.  The  process  of  this  alteration  was 
so  easy,  that  almost  as  soon  as  it  began  to  be  observed  it  was 
complete.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff  saw  it  first,  and  having  Anthony 
Chuzzlewit  fresh  in  his  recollection,  saw  in  his  brother  Martin 
the  same  process  of  decav. 

To  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Pecksnift"'s  tenderness,  this  was  a 


478 


MARTI.y  CHUZZLEWIT. 


very  mournful  sight.  He  could  not  but  foresee  the  probability 
of  his  respected  relative  being  made  the  victim  of  designing 
persons,  and  of  his  riches  falling  into  worthless  hands.  It 
gave  him  so  much  pain  that  he  resolved  to  secure  the 
property  to  himself ;  to  keep  bad  testamentary  suitors  at  a 
distance  ;  to  wall  up  the  old  gentleman,  as  it  were,  for  his  own 
use.  By  little  and  little,  therefore,  he  began  to  try  whether 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  gave  any  promise  of  becoming  an  instnnnent 
in  his  hands,  and  finding  that  he  did,  and  indeed  that  he  was 
very  supple  in  his  plastic  fingers,  he  made  it  the  business  of 
his  life,  kind  soul  !  to  establish  an  ascendancy  over  him  :  and 
every  little  test  he  durst  apply  meeting  with  a  success  beyond 
his  hopes,  he  began  to  think  he  heard  old  Martin's  cash 
already  chinking  in  his  own  unworldly  pockets. 

But  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  pondered  on  this  subject  (as,  in 
his  zealous  way,  he  often  did),  and  thought  with  an  uplifted 
heart  of  the  train  of  circumstances  which  had  delivered  the 
old  gentleman  into  his  hands  for  the  confusion  of  evil-doers 
and  the  triumph  of  a  righteous  nature,  he  always  felt  that 
Mary  Graham  was  his  stumbling-block.  Let  the  old  man  say 
what  he  would,  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew  he  had  a  strong  affection 
for  her.  He  knew  that  he  showed  it  in  a  thousand  little  ways  ; 
that  he  liked  to  have  her  near  him,  and  was  never  quite  at 
ease  when  she  was  absent  long.  That  he  had  ever  really 
sworn  to  leave  her  nothing  in  his  will,  Mr;  Pecksniff  greatly 
doubted.  That  even  if  he  had,  there  were  many  ways  by 
which  he  could  evade  the  oath  and  satisfy  his  conscience,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  knew.  That  her  unprotected  state  was  no  light 
burden  on  the  old  man's  mind,  he  also  knew,  for  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit  had  plainly  told  him  so.  "  Then,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  "what  if  I  married  her!  What,"  repeated  Mr, 
Pecksniff,  sticking  up  his  hair  and  glancing  at  his  bust  by 
Spoker  :  "  What  if,  making  sure  of  his  approval  first — he  is 
nearly  imbecile,  poor  gentleman — I  married  her  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  a  lively  sense  of  the  Beautiful  ;  especially 
in  women.  His  manner  towgirds  the  sex  was  remarkable  for 
its  insinuating  character.  It  is  recorded  of  him  in  another 
part  of  these  pages,  that  he  embraced  Mrs.  Todgers  on  the 
smallest  provocation  :  and  it  was  a  way  he  had  :  it  was  a  part 
of  the  gentle  placidity  of  his  disposition.  Before  any  thought 
of  matrimony  was  in  his  mind,  he  had  bestowed  on  Mary 
many  little  tokens  of  his  spiritual  admiration.  They  had 
been  indignantly  received,   but  that  was  nothing.     True,  as 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


479 


the  idea  expanded  within  him,  these  had  become  too  ardent 
to  escape  the  piercing  eye  of  Cherr}-,  who  read  Ijis  scheme  at 
once  ;  but  he  had  always  felt  the  power  of  Marsh's  channs. 
So  Interest  and  Inclination  made  a  pair,  and  drew  the  curricle 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  plan. 

As  to  any  thought  of  revenging  himself  on  young  Martin 
for  his  insolent  expressions  when  they  parted,  and  of  shutting 
him  out  still  more  effectually  from  any  hope  of  reconciliation 
with  his  grandfather,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  much  too  meek  and 
forgiving  to  be  suspected  of  harboring  it.  As  to  being  re- 
fused by  Mary,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  quite  satisfied  that  in  her 
position  she  could  never  hold  out  if  he  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
were  both  against  her.  As  to  consulting  the  wishes  of  her 
heart  in  such  a  case,  it  formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
moral  code  ;  for  he  knew  what  a  good  man  he  was,  and  what 
a  blessing  he  must  be  to  anybody.  His  daughter  having 
broken  the  ice,  and  the  murder  being  out  between  them,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  now  only  to  pursue  his  design  as  cleverly  as  he 
could,  and  by  the  craftiest  approaches. 

"  Well,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  meeting  old 
Martin  in  the  garden,  for  it  was  his  habit  to  walk  in  and  out 
by  that  way,  as  the  fancy  took  him  :  ''  and  how  is  my  dear 
friend  this  delicious  morning  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  me  ?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  one  of  his  deaf  days,  I  see. 
Could  I  mean  any  one  else,  my  dear  sir .'  " 

"  You  might  ha\-e  meant  Alary,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Indeed  I  might,  (^uitc  true.  I  might  speak  of  her  as 
a  dear,  dear  friend,  I  hope  ?  "  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  hope  so,"  returned  old  Martin.   "  I  think  she  deserves  it." 

"  Think  !  "  cried  Pecksniff,   "Think,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"  You  are  speaking  I  know,"  returned  Martin,  "  but  I 
don't  catch  what  you  say.     Speak  up  !  " 

"  He's  getting  deafer  than  a  flint,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  I  was 
saying,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  am  afraid  I  must  make  up  my  mind 
to  part  with  Cherry." 

"  What  has  she  been  doing  ?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  He  puts  the  most  ridiculous  questions  I  ever  heard  !  " 
muttered  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  He's  a  child  to-day."  After  which 
he  added,  in  a  mild  roar :  "  She  hasn't  been  doing  anything, 
my  dear  friend." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  part  with  her  for  ?  "  demanded 
Martin. 


480  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  She  hasn't  her  health  by  any  means,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  She  misses  her  sister,  my  dear  sir ;  they  doated  on  each 
other  from  the  cradle.  And  I  think  of  giving  her  a  run  in 
London  for  a  change.  A  good  long  run,  sir,  if  I  find  she 
likes  it." 

"  Quite  right,"  cried  Martin.     "  It's  judicious." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  hope  you  mean  to  bear 
me  company  in  this  dull  part,  while  she's  away  ? "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  removing  from  it,"  was  Martin's 
answer. 

"  Then  why,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  the  old  man's  arm 
in  his,  and  walking  slowly  on  :  "  Why,  my  good  sir,  can't  you 
come  and  stay  with  me  ?  I  am  sure  I  could  surround  you 
with  more  comforts,  lowly  as  is  my  cot,  than  you  can  obtain 
at  a  village  house  of  entertainment.  And  pardon  me,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit,  pardon  me  if  I  say  that  such  a  place  as  the 
Dragon,  however  well-conducted  (and,  as  far  as  I  know,  Mrs. 
Lupin  is  one  of  the  worthiest  creatures  in  this  country),  is 
hardly  a  home  for  Miss  Graham." 

Martin  mused  a  moment  :  and  then  said  as  he  shook  him 
by  the  hand. 

"  No.     You're  quite  right  ;  it  is  not." 

"  The  very  sight  of  skittles,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  eloquently 
pursued,   "  is  far  from  being  congenial  to  a  delicate  mind." 

"  It's  an  amusement  of  the  vulgar,"  said  old  Martin, 
"  certainly." 

"Of  the  very  vulgar,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered.  "Then 
why  not  bring  Miss  Graham  here,  sir  ?  Here  is  the  house. 
Here  am  I  alone  in  it,  for  Thomas  Pinch  I  do  not  count  as 
any  one.  Our  lovely  friend  shall  occupy  my  daughter's  cham- 
ber !  you  shall  choose  your  own ;  we  shall  not  quarrel  I 
hope ! " 

"  We  are  not  likelv  to  do  that,"  said  Martin. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  pressed  his  hand.  "  We  understand  each 
other,  my  dear  sir,  I  see  ! — I  can  wind  him,"  he  thought,  with 
exultation,  "  round  my  little  finger  ! " 

"  You  leave  the  recompense  to  me  ?  "  said  the  old  man, 
after  a  minute's  silence. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  speak  of  recompense  !  "  cried  Pecksniff. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Martin,  with  a  glimmer  of  his  ojd 
obstinacy,  "  you  leave  the  recompense  to  me.     Do  you  ? " 

"  Since  you  desire  it,  my  good  sir." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  481 

"  I  always  desire  it,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  know  I 
always  desire  it.  I  wish  to  pay  as  I  go,  even  when  I  buy  of 
you.  Not  that  I  do  not  leave  a  balance  to  be  settled  one 
day,  Pecksniff." 

The  architect  was  too  much  overcome  to  speak.  He 
tried  to  drop  a  tear  upon  his  patron's  hand,  but  couldn't  find 
one  in  his  dr}^  distillery. 

"  May  that  day  be  ver)-  distant  !  "  was  his  pious  exclama- 
tion. "  Ah,  sir  !  If  I  could  say  how  deep  an  interest  I  have 
in  you  and  yours  !     I  allude  to  our  beautiful  young  friend." 

"  True,"  he  answered.'  "  True.  She  need  have  some  one 
interested  in  her.  I  did  her  wrong  to  train  her  as  I  did. 
Orphan  though ^she  was,  she  would  have  found  some  one  to 
protect  her  whom  she  might  have  loved  again.  When  she 
was  a  child,  I  pleased  myself  with  the  thought  that  in  gratify- 
ing my  whim  of  placing  her  between  me  and  false-hearted 
knaves,  I  had  done  her  a  kindness.  Now  she  is  a  woman,  I 
have  no  such  comfort.  She  has  no  protector  but  herself.  I 
have  put  her  at  such  odds  with  the  world,  that  any  dog  may 
bark  or  fawn  upon  her  at  his  pleasure.  Indeed  she  stands 
in  need  of  delicate   consideration.     Yes;  indeed   she  does!" 

"  If  her  position  could  be  altered  and  defined,  sir .'' "  Mr. 
Pecksniff  hinted. 

"  How  can  that  be  done .-'  Should  I  make  a  seamstress  of 
her,  or  a  governess  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  My  dear  sir, 
there  are  other  ways.  There  are  indeed.  But  I  am  much 
excited  and  embarrassed  at  present,  and  would  rather  not 
pursue  the  subject.  I  scarcely  know  what  I  mean.  Permit 
me  to  resume  it  at  another  time." 

"  You  are  not  unwell  .''  "  asked  Martin  anxiously. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  l^ecksniff.  "  No.  Permit  me  to  resume 
it  at  another  time.     I'll  walk  a  little.     Bless  you  !  " 

Old  Martin  blessed  him  in  return,  and  squeezed  his  hand. 
As  he  turned  away,  and  slowly  walked  towards  the  house, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  stood  gazing  after  him  :  being  pretty  well  re- 
covered from  his  late  emotion,  which,  in  any  other  man,  one 
might  have  thought  had  been  assumed  as  a  machinery  for 
feeling  Martin's  pulse.  Tlie  change  in  the  old  man  found 
such  a  slight  expression  in  his  figure,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  look- 
ing after  him,  could  not  help  snying  to  himself  : 

"  And  I  can  w^nd  him  round  my  little  finger !  Only 
think !  " 

31 


482  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Old  Martin  happening  to  turn  his  head,  saluted  him  afifec- 
tionately.     Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  the  gesture. 

"Why  the  time  was,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff;  "and  not  long 
ago,  when  he  wouldn't  look  at  me  !  How  soothing  is  this 
change.  Such  is  the  delicate  texture  of  the  human  heart  ;  so 
complicated  is  the  process  of  its  being  softened !  Externally 
he  looks  the  same,  and  I  can  wind  him  round  my  little  finger. 
Only  think !  " 

In  sober  truth,  there  did  appear  to  be  nothing  on  which 
Mr.  Pecksniff  might  not  have  ventured  with  Martin  Chuzzle- 
wit ;  for  whatever  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  or  did  was  right,  and 
whatever  he  advised  was  done.  Martin  had  escaped  so  many 
snares  from  needy  fortune-hunters,  and  had  withered  in  the 
shell  of  his  suspicion  and  distrust  for  so  many  years,  but  to 
become  the  good  man's  tool  and  plaything.  With  the  happi- 
ness of  this  conviction  painted  on  his  face,  the  architect  went 
forth  upon  his  morning  walk. 

The  summer  weather  in  his  bosom  was  reflected  in  the 
breast  of  Nature.  Through  deep  green  vistas  where  the 
boughs  arched  over-head,  and  showed  the  sunlight  flashing  in 
the  beautiful  perspective  ;  through  dewy  fern  from  which  the 
startled  hares  leaped  up,  and  fled  at  his  approach  ;  by 
mantled  pools,  and  fallen  trees,  and  down  in  hollow  places, 
rustling  among  last  year's  leaves  whose  scent  woke  memory  of 
the  past  ;  the  placid  Pecksniff  strolled.  By  meadow  gates 
and  hedges  fragrant  with  wild  roses  ;  and  by  thatched-roofed 
cottages  whose  inmates  humbly  bowed  before  him  as  a  man 
both  good  and  wise  ;  the  worthy  Pecksniff  walked  in  tranquil 
meditation.  The  bee  passed  onward,  humming  of  the  work 
he  had  to  do  ;  the  idle  gnats  for  ever  going  round  and  round 
in  one  contracting  and  expanding  ring,  yet  always  going  on  as 
fast  as  he,  danced  merrily  before  him  ;  the  color  of  the  long 
grass  came  and  went,  as  if  the  light  clouds  made  it  timid  as  they 
floated  through  the  distant  air.  The  birds,  so  many  Pecksniff 
consciences,  sang  gayly  upon  every  branch  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
paid  his  homage  to  the  day  by  ruminating  on  his  projects  as 
he  walked  along. 

Chancing  to  trip,  in  his  abstraction,  over  the  spreading 
root  of  an  old  tree,  he  raised  his  pious  eyes  to  take  a  survey 
of  the  ground  before  him.  It  startled  him  to  see  the  embodied 
image  of  his  thoughts  not  far  a-head.  Mary  herself.  And 
alone. 

At  first  Mr.  Pecksniff  stopped  as  if  with  the  intention  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  483 

avoiding  her  ;  but  his  next  impulse  was,  to  advance,  whicli  he 
did  at  a  brisk  pace  ;  caroling  as  he  went,  so  sweetly  and  with 
so  much  innocence,  that  he  only  wanted  feathers  and  wings 
to  be  a  bird. 

Hearing  notes  behind  her,  not  belonging  to  the  songsters  of 
the  grove,  she  looked  round.  Mr.  Pecksniff  kissed  his  hand, 
and  was  at  her  side  immediately. 

"  Communing  with  nature  .-'  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  So 
am  I." 

She  said  the  morning  was  so  beautiful  that  she  had  walked 
further  than  she  intended,  and  would  return.  Mr.  Pecksniff 
said  it  was  exactly  his  case,  and  he  would  return  with  her. 

"  Take  my  arm,  sweet  girl,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Mary  declined  it,  and  walked  so  very  fast  that  he  remon- 
strated. "You  were  loitering  when  I  came  upon  you,"  Mr. 
Pecksniff  said.  "  Why  be  so  cruel  as  to  hurry  now.  You 
would  not  shun  me,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  she  answered,  turning  her  glowing  cheek 
indignantly  upon  him,  "you  know  1  would.  Release  me,  Mr. 
Pecksniff.     Your  touch  is  disagreeable  to  me." 

His  touch  !  What .'  That  chaste  patriarchal  touch  which 
Mrs.  Todgers — surely  a  discreet  lady — had  endured,  not  only 
without  complaint,  but  with  apparent  satisfaction !  This  was 
positively  wrong.     Mr.  Pecksniff  was  sorry  to  hear  her  say  it. 

"  If  you  have  not  observed,"  said  Mary,  "  that  it  is  so, 
pray  take  assurance  from  my  lips,  and  not,  as  you  are  a  gen- 
tleman, continue  to  offend  me." 

"Well,  well  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly,  "I  feel  that  T 
might  consider  this  becoming  in  a  daughter  of  my  own,  and 
why  should  I  object  to  it  in  one  so  beautiful  !  It's  harsh.  It 
cuts  me  to  the  soul,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff:  "but  I  cannot 
quarrel  with  you,  Mary." 

She  tried  to  say  she  was  sorry  to  hear  it,  but  burst  into 
tears.  Mr.  Pecksniff  now  repeated  the  Todgers'  performance 
on  a  comfortable  scale,  as  if  he  intended  it  to  last  some  time  ; 
and  in  his  disengaged  hand,  catching  hers,  employed  himself 
in  separating  the  fingers  with  his  own,  and  sometimes  kissing 
them,  as  he  pursued  the  conversation  thus  : 

"  I  am  glad  we  met.  I  am  very  glad  we  met.  I  am  able 
now  to  ease  my  bosom  of  a  heavy  load,  and  speak  to  you  in 
confidence.  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  his  tenderest 
tones :  indeed,  they  were  so  very  tender  that  he  almost 
squeaked  :    "  My  soul  1     I  love  you !  " 


484  ^^^  ^  ^-^^  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

A  fantastic  thing,  that  maiden  affectation  !  She  made 
believe  to  shudder. 

"  I  love  you,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  my  gentle  life,  with  a 
devotion  which  is  quite  surprising,  even  to  myself.  I  did 
suppose  that  the  sensation  was  buried  in  the  silent  tomb  of  a 
lady,  only  second  to  you  in  qualities  of  the  mind  and  form : 
but  I  find  I  am  mistaken." 

She  tried  to  disengage  her  hand,  but  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  free  herself  from  the  embrace  of  an  affectionate  boa- 
constrictor  :  if  anything  so  wily  may  be  brought  into  com- 
parison with  Pecksniff. 

"  Although  I  am  a  widower,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  examin- 
ing the  rings  upon  her  fingers,  and  tracing  the  course  of  one 
delicate  blue  \€m.  with  his  fat  thumb,  '•  a  widower  with  two 
daughters,  still  I  am  not  encumbered,  my  love.  One  of  them, 
as  you  know,  is  married.  The  other,  by  her  own  desire,  but 
with  a  view,  I  will  confess — why  not  ? — to  my  altering  my 
condition,  is  about  to  leave  her  father's  house.  I  have  a 
character,  I  hope.  People  are  pleased  to  speak  well  of  me,  I 
think.  My  person  and  manner  are  not  absolutely  those  of  a 
monster,  I  trust.  Ah,  naughty  Hand  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
apostrophizing  the  reluctant  prize,  "  w^hy  did  you  take  me 
prisoner  !     Go,  go  !  " 

He  slapped  the  hand  to  punish  it ;  but  relenting,  folded  it 
in  his  waistcoat,  to  comfort  it  again. 

"  Blessed  in  each  other,  and  in  the  societ)-  of  our  venerable 
friend,  my  darling,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "we  shall  be  happy. 
When  he  is  wafted  to  a  haven  of  rest,  we  will  console  each 
other.     My  pretty  primrose,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

'•  It  is  possible,"  Mary  answered,  in  a  hurried  manner, 
"that  I  ought  to  feel  grateful  for  this  mark  of  your  confidence. 
I  cannot  say  that  I  do,  but  I  am  willing  to  suppose  you  may 
deserve  my  thanks.  Take  them  ;  and  pray  leave  me,  Mr. 
Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  smiled  a  greasy  smile  ;  and  drew  her  closer 
to  him. 

"  Pray,  pray  release  me,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  I  cannot  listen 
to  your  proposal.  I  cannot  receive  it.  There  are  many  to 
whom  it  may  be  acceptable,  but  it  is  not  so  to  me.  As  an  act 
of  kindness  and  an  act  of  pit}',  leave  me  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  walked  on  with  his  arm  round  her  waist, 
and  her  hand  in  his,  as  contentedly  as  if  they  had  been  all  in 
all  to  each  other,  and  were  joined  in  the  bonds  of  truest  love. 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  485 

"  If  you  force  me  by  your  superior  strength,"  said  Mary, 
who  finding  that  good  words  had  not  the  least  effect  upon  him, 
made  no  further  effort  to  suppress  her  indignation :  "  if  you 
force  me  by  your  superior  strength  to  accompany  you  back,  and 
to  be  the  subject  of  your  insolence  upon  the  way,  you  cannot 
constrain  the  expression  of  my  thoughts.  I  hold  you  in  the 
deepest  abhorrence.     I  know  your  real  nature  and  despise  it." 

"  No,  no,"    said  Mr.   Pecksniff,  sweetly.     "  No,  no,  no  !  "' 

"  By  what  arts  or  unhappy  chances  you  have  gained  your 
influence  over  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mary: 
"  it  may  be  strong  enough  to  soften  even  this,  but  he  shall 
know  of  this,  trust  me,  sir." 

Mr.  Pecksnitf  raised  his  heavy  eyelids  languidly,  and  let 
them  fall  again.  It  was  saying  with  perfect  coolness,  "  Ay, 
ay  !     Indeed  !  " 

"  Is  it  not  enough,"  said  Mary,  "  that  you  warp  and  change 
his  nature,  adapt  his  every  prejudice  to  your  bad  ends,  and 
harden  a  heart  naturally  kind  by  shutting  out  the  truth  and 
allowing  none  but  false  and  distorted  views  to  reach  it  \  is  it 
not  enough  that  you  have  the  power  of  doing  this,  and  that 
you  exercise  it,  but  must  you  also  be  so  coarse,  so  cruel,  and 
so  cowardly  to  me  ?  " 

Still  Mr.  Pecksniff  led  her  calmly  on,  and  looked  as  mild 
as  any  lamb  that  ever  pastured  in  the  fields. 

"  Will  nothing  move  you,  sir  ?  "  cried  Mary. 

"  My  dear,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  placid  leer, 
"  a  habit  of  self-examination,  and  the  practice  of — shall  I  say 
of  virtue  .''  " 

"  Of  hypocrisy,"  said  Mary. 

"  No,  no,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  chafing  the  captive 
hand  reproachfully,  "  of  virtue — have  enabled  me  to  set  such 
guards  upon  myself,  that  it  is  really  difficult  to  rufile  me.  It 
is  a  curious  fact,  but  it  is  difficult,  do  you  know,  for  any  one 
to  ruffie  me.  And  did  she  think,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a 
playful  tightening  of  his  grasp,  "  that  she  could  !  How  little 
did  she  know  his  heart  !  " 

Little,  indeed !  Her  mind  was  so  strangely  constituted 
that  she  would  have  preferred  the  caresses  of  a  toad,  an  adder, 
or  a  serpent  :  nay,  the  hug  of  a  bear  :  to  the  endearments  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  that  good  gentleman,  "  a  word  or 
two  will  set  this  matter  right,  and  establish  a  pleasant  under- 
standing between  us.     I  am  not  angry,  my  lo\e." 


486  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  You  angry  !  " 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  am  not.  I  say  so.  Neither 
are  you." 

There  was  a  beating  heart  beneath  his  hand  that  told 
another  story  though. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  :  "  and  I 
will  tell  you  why.  There  are  two  Martin  Chuzzlewits,  my 
dear  ;  and  your  carr^-ing  your  anger  to  one  might  have  a 
serious  effect — who  knows  ! — upon  the  other.  You  wouldn't 
wish  to  hurt  him,  would  you  !  " 

She  trembled  violently,  and  looked  at  him  with  such  a 
proud  disdain  that  he  turned  his  eyes  away.  No  doubt  lest 
he  should  be  offended  with  her  in  spite  of  his  better  self. 

"  A  passive  quarrel,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  may 
be  changed  into  an  active  one,  remember.  It  would  be  sad  to 
blight  even  a  disinherited  young  man  \w  his  already  blighted 
prospects  :  but  how  easy  to  do  it.  Ah,  how  easy !  Have  I 
influence  with  our  venerable  friend,  do  you  think  ?  Well, 
perhaps  I  have.     Perhaps  I  have." 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  hers  ;  and  nodded  with  an  air  of 
banter  that  was  charming. 

"  No,"  he  continued,  thoughtfully.  "  Upon  the  whole,  my 
sweet,  if  I  were  you  I'd  keep  my  secret  to  myself.  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  :  very  far  from  it :  that  it  would  surprise  our  friend 
in  any  way,  for  he  and  I  have  had  some  conversation  together 
only  this  morning,  and  he  is  anxious,  very  anxious,  to  establish 
you  in  some  more  settled  manner.  But  whether  he  was  sur- 
prised or  not  surprised,  the  consequence  of  your  imparting  it 
might  be  the  same.  Martin,  junior,  might  suffer  severely. 
I'd  have  compassion  on  Martin,  junior,  do  you  know  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  persuasive  smile.  "  Yes.  He  don't 
deserve  it,  but  I  would." 

She  wept  so  bitterly  now,  and  was  so  much  distressed,  that 
he  thought  it  prudent  to  unclasp  her  waist,  and  hold  her  only 
by  the  hand. 

"As  to  our  own  share  in  the  precious  little  myster}-,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  we  will  keep  it  to  ourselves,  and  talk  of  it 
between  ourselves,  and  you  shall  think  it  over.  You  will 
consent,  my  love  ;  you  will  consent,  I  know.  Whatever  you 
may  think  ;  you  will.  I  seem  to  remember  to  have  heard  :  I 
really  don't  know  where,  or  how  :  "  he  added,  with  bewitching 
frankness,  "  that  you  and  Martin,  junior,  when  you  were  chil- 
dren, had  a  sort  of  childish  fondness  for  each  other.     When 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


487 


we  are  married,  you  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of  thinking 
that  it  didn't  last,  to  ruin  him,  but  passed  away,  to  do  him 
good  ;  for  we'll  see  tlien,  what  we  can  do  to  put  some  trifling 
help  in  Martin,  junior's,  way.  Have  I  any  influence  with  our 
venerable  friend  ?     Well  !   Perhaps  I  have.     Perhaps  1  have." 

The  outlet  from  the  wood  in  which  these  tender  passages 
occurred,  was  close  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house.  They  were  now 
so  near  it  that  he  stopped,  and  holding  up  her  little  finger, 
said  in  playful  accents,  as  a  parting  fancy : 

"  Shall  I  bite  it  >.  " 

Receiving  no  reply  he  kissed  it  instead  ;  and  then  stoop- 
ing down,  inclined  his  ffabby  face  to  hers  (he  had  a  flabby 
face,  although  he  tons  a  good  man),  and  with  a  blessing,  which 
from  such  a  source  was  quite  enough  to  set  her  up  in  life,  and 
prosper  her  for  that   time  forth,  permitted  her  to   leave  him. 

Gallantry  in  its  true  sense  is  supposed  to  ennoble  and 
dignify  a  man  ;  and  love  has  shed  refinements  on  innumerable 
Cymons.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff :  perhaps  because  to  one  of  his 
exalted  nature  these  were  mere  grossnesses  :  certainly  did  not 
appear  to  any  unusual  advantage,  now  that  he  was  left  alone. 
On  the  contrar}-,  he  seemed  to  be  shrunk  and  reduced  ;  to  be 
trj'ing  to  hide  himself  within  himself  ;  and  to  be  wretched  at 
not  having  the  power  to  do  it.  His  shoes  looked  too  large  ; 
his  sleeve  looked  too  long ;  his  hair  looked  too  limp  ;  his 
features  looked  too  mean  ;  his  exposed  throat  looked  as  if  a 
halter  would  have  done  it  good.  For  a  minute  or  two,  in  fact, 
he  was  hot,  and  pale,  and  mean,  and  shy,  and  slinking,  and 
consequently  not  at  all  PecksnifiRan.  But  after  that,  he 
recovered  himself,  and  went  home  with  as  beneficent  an  air 
as  if  he  had  been  the  High  Priest  of  the  summer  weather. 

"  I  have  arranged  to  go,  Papa,"  said  Charity,  "  to-morrow." 

"  So  soon,  my  child  !  " 

"  I  can't  go  too  soon,"  said  Charity,  "  under  the  circum- 
stances. I  have  written  to  Mrs.  Todgers  to  propose  an 
arrangement,  and  have  requested  her  to  meet  me  at  the  coach, 
at  all  events.  You'll  be  quite  your  own  master,  now,  Mr. 
Pinch  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  just  gone  out  of  the  room,  and  Tom  had 
just  come  into  it. 

"  My  own  master  !  "  repeated  Tom. 

"  Yes,  you'll  have  nobody  to  interfere  with  you,"  said 
Charity.  "  At  least  I  hope  you  won't.  Hem  !  It's  a  chang- 
ing world." 


488  jMARTIN  chuzzlewit. 

"  What !  are  you  going  to  be  married,  Miss  Pecksniff  ?  " 
asked  Tom  in  great  surprise. 

"  Not  exactly,"  faltered  Cherry.  "  I  haven't  made  up  my 
mind  to  be.     I  believe  I  could  be,  if  I  chose,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"Of  course  you  could  !  "  said  Tom.  And  he  said  it  in 
perfect  good  faith.  He  believed  it  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart. 

"  No,"  said  Cherry,  "  /  am  not  going  to  be  married. 
Nobody  is,  that  I  know  of.  Hem  !  But  1  am  not  going  to 
live  with  Papa.  I  have  my  reasons,  but  it's  all  a  secret.  I 
shall  always  feel  very  kindly  towards  you,  I  assure  you,  for 
the  boldness  you  showed  that  night.  As  to  you  and  me,  Mr. 
Pinch,  lOc  part  the  best  friends  possible  !  " 

Tom  thanked  her  for  her  confidence,  and  for  her  friend- 
ship, but  there  was  a  mystery  in  the  former,  which  perfectly 
bewildered  him.  In  his  extravagant  devotion  to  the  family, 
he  had  felt  the  loss  of  Merry  more  than  any  one  but  those 
who  knew  that  for  all  the  slights  he  underwent  he  thought  his 
own  demerits  were  to  blame,  could  possibly  have  understood. 
He  had  scarcely  reconciled  himself  to  that,  when  here  was 
Charity  about  to  leave  them.  She  had  grown  up,  as  it  were, 
under  Tom's  eye.  The  sisters  were  a  part  of  Pecksniff,  and 
a  part  of  Tom  ;  items  in  Pecksniff's  goodness,  and  in  Tom's 
service.  He  couldn't  bear  it :  not  two  hours'  sleep  had  Tom 
that  night,  through  dwelling  in  his  bed  upon  these  dreadful 
changes. 

When  morning  dawned,  he  thought  he  must  have  dreamed 
this  piece  of  ambiguity  ;  but  no,  on  going  down  stairs  he 
found  them  packing  trunks  and  cording  boxes,  and  making 
other  preparations  for  Miss  Charity's  departure,  which  lasted 
all  day  long.  In  good  time  for  the  evening-coach,  Miss 
Charity  deposited  her  housekeeping  keys  with  much  ceremony 
upon  the  parlor  table  :  took  a  gracious  leave  of  all  the  house  ; 
and  quitted  her  paternal  roof — a  blessing,  for  which  the  Peck- 
sniffian  servant  was  observed  by  some  profane  persons  to  be 
particularly  active  in  the  thanksgiving  at  church  next  Sun- 
day. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  489 


CHAPTER  XXXT. 

MR.  PINCH  IS  DISCHARGED  OF  A  DUTY  WHICH  HE  NEVER 
OWED  TO  ANYBODY  ;  AND  MR.  PECKSNIFF  DISCHARGES  A 
DUTY    WHICH    HE    OWES    TO    SOCIETY. 

The  closing  words  of  the  last  chapter,  lead  naturally  to 
the  commencement  of  this,  its  successor  ;  for  it  has  to  do  with 
a  church.  With  the  church  so  often  mentioned  heretofore,  in 
which  Tom  Pindi  played  the  organ  for  nothing. 

One  sultry  afternoon,  about  a  week  after  Miss  Charity's 
departure  for  London,  Mr.  Pecksniff  being  out  walking  by 
himself,  took  it  into  his  head  to  stray  into  the  churchyard. 
As  he  was  lingering  among  the  tombstones,  endeavoring 
to  extract  an  available  sentiment  or  two  from  the  epitaphs 
— for  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  making  up  a  few  moral 
crackers,  10  be  let  off  as  occasion  served — Tom  Pinch  began 
to  practise.  Tom  could  run  down  to  the  church  and  do  so 
whenever  he  had  time  to  spare  ;  for  it  was  a  simple  little 
organ,  provided  with  wind  by  the  action  of  the  musician's  feet  ; 
and  he  was  independent,  even  of  a  bellows-blower.  Though 
if  Tom  had  wanted  one  at  any  time,  there  was  not  a  man  or 
boy  in  all  the  village,  and  away  to  the  turnpike  (tollman 
included),  but  would  have  blown  away  for  him  till  he  was  black 
in  the  face. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  no  objection  to  music  ;  not  the  least. 
He  was  tolerant  of  everything  ;  he  often  said  so.  He  con- 
sidered it  a  vagabond  kind  of  trilling,  in  general,  just  suited 
to  Tom's  capacity.  But  in  regard  to  Tom's  performance  upon 
this  same  organ,  he  was  remarkably  lenient,  singularly  amia- 
ble ;  for  when  Tom  played  it  on  Sundays,  Mr.  Pecksniff  in 
his  unbounded  sympathy  felt  as  if  he  played  it  himself,  and 
were  a  benefactor  to  the  congregation.  So  whenever  it  was 
impossible  to  devise  any  other  means  of  taking  the  value  of 
Tom's  wages  out  of  him,  Mr.  Pecksniff  gave  him  leave  to  cul- 
tivate this  instrument.  For  which  mark  of  his  consideration, 
Tom  was  veiy  grateful. 

The  afternoon  was  remarkably  warm,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  been  strolling  a  long  way.  He  had  not  what  may  be 
called  a  fine  ear  for  music,  but   he   knew  when  it  had  a  tran- 


490  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

quilizing  influence  on  his  soul ;  and  that  was  the  case  now, 
for  it  sounded  to  him  like  a  melodious  snore.  He  approached 
the  church,  and  looking  through  the  diamond  lattice  of  a 
window  near  the  porch,  saw  Tom,  with  the  curtains  in  the 
loft  drawn  back,  playing  away  with  great  expression  and 
tenderness. 

The  church  had  an  inviting  air  of  coolness.  The  old  oak 
roof  supported  by  cross-beams,  the  hoary  walls,  the  marble 
tablets,  and  the  cracked  stone  pavement,  were  refreshing  to 
look  at.  There  were  leaves  of  ivy  tapping  gently  at  the  oppo- 
site windows  ;  and  the  sun  poured  in  through  only  one  :  leav- 
ing the  body  of  the  church  in  tempting  shade.  But  the  most 
tempting  spot  of  all,  was  one  red-curtained  and  soft-cushioned 
pew,  wherein  the  official  dignitaries  of  the  place  (of  whom  Mr. 
Pecksniff  was  the  head  and  chief)  enshrined  themselves  on 
Sundays.  Mr.  Pecksniff's  seat  was  in  the  corner  :  a  remark- 
ably comfortable  corner  ;  where  his  very  large  Prayer-Book 
was  at  that  minute  making  the  most  of  its  quarto  self  upon 
the  desk.     He  determined  to  go  in  and  rest. 

He  entered  very  softly  ;  in  part  because  it  was  a  church  ; 
in  part  because  his  tread  was  always  soft  ;  in  part  because 
Tom  played  a  solemn  tune  ;  in  part  because  he  thought  he 
would  surprise  him  when  he  stopped.  Unbolting  the  door  of 
the  high  pew  of  state,  .he  glided  in  and  shut  it  after  him  ;  then 
sitting  in  his  usual  place,  and  stretching  out  his  legs  upon  the 
hassocks,  he  composed  himself  to  listen  to  the  music. 

It  is  an  unaccountable  circumstance  that  he  should  have 
felt  drowsy  there,  where  the  force  of  association  might  surely 
have  been  enough  to  keep  him  wide  awake  ;  but  he  did.  He 
had  not  been  in  the  snug  little  corner  five  minutes  before  he 
began  to  nod.  He  had  not  recovered  himself  one  minute  be- 
fore he  began  to  nod  again.  In  the  ver}'  act  of  opening  his 
eyes  indolently,  he  nodded  again.  In  the  very  act  of  shutting 
them,  he  nodded  again.  So  he  fell  out  of  one  nod  into  an- 
other until  at  last  he  ceased  to  nod  at  all,  and  was  as  fast  as 
the  church  itself. 

He  had  a  consciousness  of  the  organ,  long  after  he  fell 
asleep,  though  as  to  its  being  an  organ  he  had  nd  more  idea 
of  that,  than  he  had  of  its  being  a  Bull.  After  a  while  he  be- 
gan to  have  at  intervals  the  same  dreamy  impressions  of 
voices  ;  and  awakening  to  an  indolent  curiosity  upon  the  sub- 
ject, opened  his  eyes. 

He  was  so  indolent,  that  after  glancing  at  the  hassocks 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


491 


and  the  pew,  he  was  already  lialf-way  off  to  sleep  again,  when 
it  occurred  to  him  that  there  really  were  voices  in  the  church : 
low  voices,  talking  earnestly  hard  by  :  while  the  echoes  seemed 
to  mutter  responses.     He  roused  himself,  and  listened. 

Before  he  had  listened  half  a  dozen  seconds,  he  became 
as  broad  awake  as  ever  he  had  been  in  all  his  life.  With 
eyes,  and  ears,  and  mouth,  wide  open,  he  moved  himself  a 
very  little  with  the  utmost  caution,  and  gathering  the  curtain 
in  his  hand,  peeped  out. 

Tom  Pinch  and  Mary.  Of  course.  He  had  recognized 
their  voices,  and  already  knew  the  topic  they  discussed. 
Looking  like  the  small  end  of  a  guillotined  man,  with  his  cliin 
on  a  level  with'  the  top  of  the  pew,  so  that  he  might  duck 
down  immediately  in  case  of  either  of  them  turning  round,  he 
listened.  Listened  with  such  concentrated  eagerness,  that 
his  very  hair  and  shirt-collar  stood  bristling  up  to  help  him. 

"  No,"  cried  Tom.  "  No  letters  have  ever  reached  me, 
except  that  one  from  New  York.  But  don't  be  uneasy  on  that 
account,  for  it's  very  likely  they  have  gone  away  to  some  far- 
off  place,  where  the  posts  are  neither  regular  nor  frequent. 
He  said  in  that  very  letter  that  it  might  be  so,  even  in  that 
city  to  which  they  thought  of  travelling — Eden,  you  know." 

"  It  is  a  great  weight  upon  my  mind,"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh,  but  you  mustn't  let  it  be,"  said  Tom.  "  There's  a 
true  saying  that  nothing  travels  so  fast  as  ill  news  ;  and  if  the 
slightest  harm  had  happened  to  Martin,  you  may  be  sure  you 
would  have  heard  of  it  long  ago.  I  have  often  wished  to  say 
this  to  you,"  Tom  continued  with  an  embarrassment  that  be- 
came him  very  well,  "  but  you  have  never  gi\en  me  an  oppor- 
tunity." 

"  I  have  sometimes  been  almost  afraid,"  said  Mar}',  "  that 
you  might  suppose  I  hesitated  to  confide  in  you,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  No,"  Tom  stammered,  "  I — 1  am  not  aware  that  I  ever 
supposed  that.  I  am  sure  that  if  1  have,  I  have  checked  the 
thought  directly,  as  an  injustice  to  you.  I  feel  the  delicacy  of 
your  situation  in  having  to  confide  in  me  at  all,"  said  Tom, 
"  but  I  would  risk  my  life  to  save  you  from  one  day's  uneasi- 
ness :  indeed  I  would  !  " 

Poor  Tom  ! 

"  I  have  dreaded  sometimes,"  Tom  continued,  "  that  I 
might  have  displeased  you  by — by  having  the  boldness  to  try 
and  anticipate  your  wishes  now  and  then.  At  other  times  I 
have  fancied  that  your  kindness  prompted  you  to  keep  aloof 
from  me." 


492  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Indeed !  " 

"  It  was  very  foolish  :  very  presumptuous  and  ridiculous  : 
to  think  so,"  Tom  pursued  :  "  but  I  feared  you  might  suppose 
it  possible  that  I — I — should  admire  you  too  much  for  my 
own  peace  ;  and  so  denied  yourself  the  slight  assistance  you 
would  otherwise  have  accepted  from  me.  If  such  an  idea  has 
ever  presented  itself  to  you,"  faltered  Tom,  "pray  dismiss  it. 
I  arh  easily  made  happy :  and  I  shall  live  contented  here  long 
after  you  and  Martin  have  forgotten  me.  I  am  a  poor,  shy, 
awkward  creature  :  not  at  all  a  man  of  the  world  :  and  vou 
should  think  no  more  of  me,  bless  you,  than  if  I  were  an  old 
friar ! " 

If  friars  bear  such  hearts  as  thine,  Tom,  let  friars  multiply ; 
though  they  have  no  such  rule  in  all  their  stern  arithmetic. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  said  Mar}^,  giving  him  her  hand  ;  "  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  your  kindness  moves  me.  I  have  never 
wronged  you  by  the  lightest  doubt,  and  have  never  for  an  in- 
stant ceased  to  feel  that  you  were  all  ;  much  more  than  all ; 
that  Martin  found  you.  Without  the  silent  care  and  friend- 
ship I  have  experienced  from  you,  my  life  here  would  have 
been  unhappy.  But  you  have  been  a  good  angel  to  me  ;  fill- 
ing me  with  gratitude  of  heart,  hope,  and  courage." 

"  I  am  as  little  like  an  angel,  I  am  afraid,"  replied  Tom, 
shaking  his  head,  "  as  any  stone  cherubim  among  the  grave- 
stones ;  and  I  don't  think  there  are  many  real  angels  of  that 
pattern.  But  I  should  like  to  know  (if  you  will  tell  me)  why 
you  have  been  so  very  silent  about  Martin." 

"  Because  I  have  been  afraid,"  said  Mary,  "  of  injuring 
you." 

"  Of  injuring  me  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Of  doing  you  an  injury  with  your  employer.' 

The  gentleman  in  question  dived. 

"  With  Pecksniff  !  "  rejoined  Tom,  with  cheerful  confi- 
dence. "  Oh  dear,  he'd  never  think  of  us  !  He's  the  best  of 
men.  The  more  at  ease  you  were,  the  happier  he  would  be. 
Oh  dear,  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  Pecksniff.  He  is  not  a 
spy." 

Many  a  man  in  Pecksniff's  place,  if  he  could  have  dived 
through  the  floor  of  the  pew  of  state  and  come  out  at  Calcutta 
or  any  inhabited  region  on  the  other  side  of  the  earth,  would 
have  done  it  instantly.  Mr.  Pecksniff  sat  dow-n  upon  a  has- 
sock, and  listening  more  attentively  than  ever,  smiled. 

Mar\'  seemed  to  have  expressed  some  dissent  in  the  mean- 
while, for  Tom  went  on  to  say,  with  honest  energ}' : 


MARTIN  C MUZZLE  WIT.  493 

''  Well,  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  it  always  happens, 
whenever  I  express  myself  in  this  way,  to  anybody  almost, 
that  I  find  they  won't  do  justice  to  Pecksniff.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  circumstances  that  ever  came  within  my 
knowledge,  but  it  is  so.  There's  John  Westlock,  who  used  to 
be  a  pupil  here,  one  of  the  best-hearted  young  men  in  the 
■world,  in  all  other  matters  :  I  really  believe  John  would  have 
Pecksniff  flogged  at  the  cart's  tail  if  he  could.  And  John  is 
not  a  solitary  case,  for  every  pupil  we  have  had  in  my  time 
has  gone  away  with  the  same  inveterate  hatred  of  him.  There 
was  Mark  Tapley,  too,  quite  in  another  station  of  life,"  said 
Tom  :  "  the  mockery  he  used  to  make  of  Pecksniff  when  he 
was  at  the  Dragon  was  shocking.  Martin  too  :  Martin  was 
worse  than  any  of  'em.  But  I  forgot.  He  prepared  you  to 
dislike  Pecksniff,  of  course.  So  you  came  with  a  prejudice, 
you  know.  Miss  Graham,  and  are  not  a  fair  witness." 

Tom  triumphed  ver^^  much  in  this  discovery,  and  rubbed 
his  hands  with  great  satisfaction. 

"Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mary,  "you  mistake  him." 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  You  mistake  him.  But,"  he 
added,  with  a  rapid  change  in  his  tone,  "  what  is  the  matter  ? 
Miss  Graham,  what  is  the  matter?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  brought  up  to  the  top  of  the  pew,  by  slow 
degrees,  his  hair,  his  forehead,  his  eyebrow,  his  eye.  She 
was  sitting  on  a  bench  beside  the  door  with  her  hands  before 
her  face  ;  and  Tom  was  bending  over  her. 

"What  is  the  matter!"  cried  Tom.  "Have  I  said  any- 
thing to  hurt  you  ?  Has  any  one  said  anything  to  hurt  you  ? 
Don't  cry.  Pray  tell  me  what  it  is.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you 
so  distressed.  Mercy  on  us,  I  never  was  so  surprised  and 
grieved  in  all  my  life  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  kept  his  eye  in  the  same  place.  He  could 
have  moved  it  now  for  nothing  short  of  a  gimlet  or  a  red-hot 
wire. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  told  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mary,  "  if  I 
could  have  helped  it  ;  but  your  delusion  is  so  absorbing,  and 
it  is  so  necessary  that  we  should  be  upon  our  guard,  that  you 
should  not  be  compromised  ;  and  to  that  end  that  you  should 
know  by  whom  I  am  beset  ;  that  no  alternative  is  left  me.  I 
came  here  purposely  to  tell  you,  but  I  think  I  should  have 
wanted  courage  if  you  had  not  chanced  to  lead  me  so  directly 
to  the  object  of  my  coming." 

Tom  gazed  at  her  steadfastly,  and  seemed  to  say,  "  What 
else  1  "     But  he  said  not  a  word. 


494 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT, 


"  That  person  whom  you  think  the  best  of  men,"  said 
Mary,  looking  up,  and  speaking  with  a  quivering  Up  and  flash- 
ing eye  : 

"  Lord  bless  me  !  "  muttered  Tom,  staggering  back,  "  Wait 
a  moment.  That  person  whom  I  think  the  best  of  men  !  You 
mean  Pecksniff,  of  course.  Yes,  I  see  you  mean  Pecksniff. 
Good  gracious  me,  don't  speak  without  authority.  What 
has  he  done  ?     If  he  is  not  the  best  of  men,  what  is  he  ?  " 

"  The  worst.  The  falsest,  craftiest,  meanest,  cruellest, 
most  sordid,  most  shameless,"  said  the  trembling  girl — trem- 
bling with  her  indignation. 

Tom  sat  down  on  a  seat,  and  clasped  his  hands. 

"  What  is  he,"  said  Mary,  "who  receiving  me  in  his  house 
as  his  guest ;  his  unwilling  guest  :  knowing  my  history,  and 
how  defenceless  and  alone  I  am,  presumes  befere  his  daugh- 
ters to  affront  me  so,  that  if  I  had  a  brother  but  a  child,  who 
saw  it,  he  would  instinctively  have  helped  me  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  scoundrel  !  "  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Whoever  he 
may  be,  he  is  a  scoundrel." 

Mr.  Pecksniff"  dived  again. 

"  What  is  he,"  said  Mary,  "  who,  when  my  only  friend  :  a 
dear  and  kind  one,  too  :  was  in  full  health  of  mind,  humbled 
himself,  before  him,  but  was  spurned  away  (for  he  knew  him 
then)  like  a  dog.  Who,  in  his  forgiving  spirit,  now  that  that 
friend  is  sunk  into  a  failing  state,  can  crawl  about  him  again, 
and  use  the  influence  he  basely  gains,  for  ever}^  base  and 
wicked  purpose,  and  not  for  one — not  one — that's  true  or 
good  >  " 

"  I  say  he  is  a  scoundrel  !  "  answered  Tom. 

"  But  what  is  he  :  oh  Mr.  Pinch,  what  is  he  :  who,  think- 
ing he  could  compass  these  designs  the  better  if  I  were  his 
wife,  assails  me  with  the  coward's  argument  that  if  I  marr}'^ 
him,  Martin,  on  whom  I  have  brought  on  much  misfortune, 
shall  be  restored  to  something  of  his  former  hopes  ;  and  if  I 
do  not,  shall  be  plunged  in  deeper  ruin?  What  is  he  who 
makes  my  very  constancy  to  one  I  love  with  all  my  heart  a 
torture  to  myself  and  wrong  to  him  ;  who  makes  me,  do  what 
I  will,  the  instrument  to  hurt  a  head  1  would  heap  blessings 
on  !  What  is  he  who,  winding  all  these  cruel  snares  about 
me,  explains  their  purpose  to  me,  with  a  smooth  tongue  and  a 
smiling  face,  in  the  broad  light  of  day  :  dragging  me  on,  the 
while,  in  his  embrace,  and  holding  to  his  lips  a  hand,"  pur- 
sued the   agitated  girl,   extending  it,  "  which   I   would  have 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


495 


struck  off,  if  with  it  I  could  lose  the  shame  and  degradation 
of  his  touch  ?  " 

"  I  say,"  cried  Tom,  in  great  excitement,  "  he  is  a  scoun- 
drel and  a  villain  !  I  don't  care  who  he  is,  I  say  he  is  a 
double-dyed  and  most  intolerable  villain  !  " 

Covering  her  face  with  her  hands  again,  as  if  the  passion 
which  had  sustained  her  through  these  disclosures  lost  itself 
in  an  overwhelming  sense  of  shame  and  grief,  she  abandoned 
herself  to  tears. 

Any  sight  of  distress  was  sure  to  move  the  tenderness  of 
Tom,  but  this  especially.  Tears  and  sobs  from  her,  were  ar- 
rows in  his  heart.  He  tried  to  comfort  her  :  sat  down  beside 
her  ;  expended  all  his  store  of  homely  eloquence  ;  and  spoke 
in  words  of  praise  and  hope  of  Martin.  Ay,  though  he  loved 
her  from  his  soul  with  such  a  self-denying  love  as  women  sel- 
dom wins  :  he  spoke  from  first  to  last  of  Martin.  Not  the 
wealth  of  the  rich  Indies  would  have  tempted  Tom  to  shirk 
one  mention  of  her  lover's  name. 

When  she  was  more  composed,  she  impressed  upon  Tom 
that  this  man  she  had  described,  was  Pecksniff  in  his  real 
colors;  and  word  by  word  and  phrase  by  phrase,  as  well  as 
she  remembered  it,  related  what  had  passed  between  them  in 
the  wood  :  which  was  no  doubt  a  source  of  high  gratification 
to  that  gentleman  himself,  who  in  his  desire  to  see  and  his 
dread  of  being  seen,  was  constantly  diving  down  into  the  state 
pew,  and  coming  up  again  like  the  intelligent  householder 
in  Punch's  Show,  who  avoids  being  knocked  on  the  head 
with  a  cudgel.  When  she  had  concluded  her  account,  and 
had  besought  Tom  to  be  very  distant  and  unconscious  in  his 
manner  towards  her  after  this  explanation,  and  had  thanked 
him  very  much,  they  parted  on  the  alarm  of  footsteps  in  the 
burial-ground  ;  and  Tom  was  left  alone  in  the  church  again. 

And  now  the  full  agitation  and  misery  of  the  disclosure 
came  rushing  upon  Tom  indeed.  The  star  of  his  whole  life 
from  boyhood  had  become,  in  a  moment,  putrid  vapor.  It 
was  not  that  Pecksniff,  Tom's  Pecksniff,  Jiad  ceased  to  exist, 
but  that  he  never  had  existed.  In  his  death  Tom  would  ]ia\'e 
had  the  comfort  of  remembering  what  he  used  to  be,  but  in 
this  discovery,  he  had  the  anguish  of  recollecting  what  he 
never  was.  For  as  Tom's  blindness  in  this  matter  had  been 
total  and  not  partial,  so  was  his  restored  sight.  His  Pecksniff 
could  never  have  w^orked  the  wickedness  of  which  he  had  just 
now  heard,  but  any  other  Pecksniff  could  ;  and  the  Pecksniff 


496 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


who  could  do  that,  could  do  anything,  and  no  doubt  had 
been  doing  anything  and  everything  except  the  right  thing,  all 
through  his  career.  From  the  lofty  height  on  which  poor 
Tom  had  placed  his  idol  it  was  tumbled  down  headlong,  and 

Not  all  the  king's  horses,  nor  all  the  king's  men, 
Could  have  set  Mr.  Pecksniff  up  again. 

Legions  of  Titans  couldn't  have  got  him  out  of  the  mud ;  and 
serve  him  right !  But  it  was  not  he  who  suffered  ;  it  was  Tom. 
His  compass  was  broken,  his  chart  destroyed,  his  chronom- 
eter had  stopped,  his  masts  were  gone  by  the  board ;  his 
anchor  was  adrift,  ten  thousand  leagues  away. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  watched  him  with  a  lively  interest,  for  he 
divined  the  purpose  of  Tom's  ruminations,  and  was  curious 
to  see  how  he  conducted  himself.  For  some  time,  Tom  wan- 
dered up  and  down  the  aisle  like  a  man  demented,  stopping 
occasionally  to  lean  against  a  pew  and  think  it  over;  then  he 
stood  staring  at  a  blank  old  monument  bordered  tastefully 
with  skulls  and  cross-bones,  as  if  it  were  the  finest  work  of 
Art  he  had  ever  seen,  although  at  other  times  he  held  it  in 
unspeakable  contempt ;  then  he  sat  down  ;  then  walked  to  and 
fro  again  ;  then  went  wandering  up  into  the  organ-loft,  and 
touched  the  keys.  But  their  minstrelsy  was  changed,  their 
music  gone  ;  and  sounding  one  long  melancholy  chord,  Tom 
drooped  his  head  upon  his  hands  and  gave  it  up  as   hopeless. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  cared,"  said  Tom  Pinch,  rising  from  his 
stool,  and  looking  down  into  the  church  as  if  he  had  been  the 
Clergyman,  "  I  wouldn't  have  cared  for  anything  he  might 
have  done  to  Me,  for  I  have  tried  his  patience  often,  and 
have  lived  upon  his  sufferance,  and  have  never  been  the  help 
to  him  that  others  could  have  been.  I  wouldn't  have  minded, 
Pecksniff,"  Tom  continued,  little  thinking  who  heard  him,  "if 
you  had  done  Me  any  wrong ;  I  could  have  found  plenty  of 
excuses  for  that ;  and  though  you  might  have  hurt  me,  could 
have  still  gone  on  respecting  you.  But  why  did  you  ever  fall 
so  low  as  this  in  my  esteem.  Oh  Pecksniff,  Pecksniff,  there 
is  nothing  I  would  not  have  given,  to  have  had  you  deserve  my 
old  opinion  of  you  ;  nothing  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  sat  upon  the  hassock  pulling  up  his  shirt- 
collar,  while  Tom,  touched  to  the  quick,  delivered  this  apos- 
trophe. After  a  pause  he  heard  Tom  coming  down  the  stairs 
jingling  the  church  keys  ;  and  bringing  his  eye  to  the  top  of 
the  pew  again,  saw  him  go  slowly  out,  and  lock  the  door. 

Mr,  Pecksniff  durst  not  issue  from  his  place  of  conceal- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  497 

ment ;  for  through  the  windows  of  the  church,  he  saw  Tom  pass- 
ing on  among  the  graves,  and  sometimes  stopping  at  a  stone, 
and  leaning  there,  as  if  he  were  a  mourner  who  had  lost  a 
friend.  Even  when  he  had  left  the  churchyard  Mr.  Pecksniff 
still  remained  shut  up  :  not  being  at  all  secure  but  that  in  his 
restless  state  of  mind  Tom  might  come  wandering  back.  At 
length  he  issued  forth,  and  walked  with  a  pleasant  counte- 
nance into  the  vestry ;  where  he  knew  there  was  a  window 
near  the  ground,  by  which  he  could  release  himself  by  merely 
stepping  out. 

He  was  in  a  curious  frame  of  mind,  Mr.  Pecksniff  :  being 
in  no  hurry  to  go,  but  rather  inclining  to  a  dilatory  trifling 
with  the  time,  which  prompted  him  to  open  the  vestry  cup- 
board, and  look  at  himself  in  the  parson's  little  glass  that  hung 
within  the  door.  Seeing  that  his  hair  was  rumpled,  he  took 
the  liberty  of  borrowing  the  canonical  brush  and  arranging  it. 
He  also  took  the  liberty  of  opening  another  cupboard  ;  but  he 
shut  it  up  again  quickly,  being  rather  startled  by  the  sight  of 
a  black  and  a  white  surplice  dangling  against  the  wall  ;  which 
had  very  much  the  appearance  of  two  curates  who  had  com- 
mitted suicide  by  hanging  themselves.  Remembering  that  he 
had  seen  in  the  first  cupboard  a  port-wine  bottle  and  some  bis- 
cuits, he  peeped  into  it  again,  and  helped  himself  with  much 
deliberation  :  cogitating  all  the  time  though,  in  a  very  deep  and 
weighty  manner,  as  if  his  thoughts  were  otherwise  employed. 

He  soon  made  up  his  mind,  if  it  had  ever  been  in  doubt ; 
and  putting  back  the  bottle  and  biscuits,  opened  the  casement. 
He  got  out  into  the  churchyard  without  any  difficulty ;  shut 
the  window  after  him  ;  and  walked  straight  home. 

"  Is  Mr.  Pinch  in-doors  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  of  his  serv- 
ing maid. 

"  Just  come  in,  sir." 

"  Just  come  in,  eh  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  cheerfully. 
"  And  gone  up  stairs,  I  suppose  ? "' 

"  Yes,  sir.     Gone  up  stairs.     Shall  I  call  him,  sir  ?  " 

"No."  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "no.  You  needn't  call  him, 
Jane.     Thank  you,  Jane,  how  are  your  relations,  Jane  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  I  tliank  you,  sir." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Let  thcin  know  I  asked  about 
them,  Jane.     Is  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  the  way,  Jane.?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     He's  in  the  parlor,  reading." 

"  He's  in  the  parlor,  reading,  is  he,  Jane?  "  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff.    "Very  well.     Then  I  think  I'll  go  and  see  him,  Jane." 

32 


498 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Never  had  Mr.  Pecksniff  been  beheld  in  a  more  pleas- 
ant humor. 

But  when  he  walked  into  the  parlor  where  the  old  man 
was  engaged  as  Jane  had  said  ;  with  pen  and  ink  and  paper  on 
a  table  close  at  hand  (for  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  always  very  partic- 
ular to  have  him  well  supplied  with  writing  materials)  ;  he  be- 
came less  cheerful.  He  was  not  angry,  he  was  not  vindictive, 
he  was  not  cross,  he  was  not  moody,  but  he  was  grieved ;  he 
was  sorely  grieved.  As  he  sat  down  by  the  old  man's  side, 
two  tears :  not  tears  like  those  with  which  recording  an<rels 
blot  their  entries  out,  but  drops  so  precious  that  they  use 
them  for  their  ink :  stole  down  his  meritorious  cheeks. 

"  What  is  the  matter  .?  "  asked  old  Martin.  "  Pecksniff, 
what  ails  you,  man  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  my  dear  sir,  and  I  am  still 
more  sorry  for  the  cause.  My  good,  my  worthy  friend,  I  am 
deceived." 

"  You  are  deceived  !  " 

"Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  an  agony,  "deceived  in  the 
tenderest  point.  Cruelly  deceived  in  that  quarter,  sir,  in  which 
I  placed  the  most  unbounded  confidence.  Deceived,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewitt,  by  Thomas  Pinch." 

"  Oh  !  bad,  bad,  bad  ! "  said  Martin,  laying  down  his  book. 
"  Very  bad  !     I  hope  not.     Are  you  certain  t  " 

"  Certain,  my  good  sir  !  My  eyes  and  ears  are  witnesses. 
T  wouldn't  have  believed  it  otherwise.  I  wouldn't  have  be- 
lieved it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  if  a  Fiery  Serpent  had  proclaimed 
it  from  the  top  of  Salisbury  Cathedral.  I  would  have  said," 
cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "that  the  Serpent  lied.  Such  was  my 
faith  in  Thomas  Pinch,  that  I  would  have  cast  the  falsehood 
back  into  the  Serpent's  teeth,  and  would  have  taken  Thomas 
to  my  heart.  But  I  am  not  a  Serpent  sir,  myself,  I  grieve  to 
say,  and  no  excuse  or  hope  is  left  me." 

Martin  was  greatly  disturbed  to  see  him  so  much  agitated, 
and  to  hear  such  unexpected  news.  He  begged  him  to  com- 
pose himself,  and  asked  upon  what  subject  Mr.  Pinch's 
treachery  had  been  developed. 

"That  is  almost  the  worst  of  all,  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  an- 
swered. "On  a  subject  nearly  concerning j'(?//.  Oh  !  is  it  not 
enough,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  upward,  "  that  these 
blows  must  fall  on  me,  but  must  they  always  hit  my  friends  !  " 

"  You  alarm  me,"  cried  the  old  man,  changing  color.  "I 
am  not  strong  as  I  was.     You  terrify  me,  Pecksniff  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  4^9 

"  Cheer  up,  my  noble  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  cour- 
age, "  and  we  will  do  what  is  required  of  us.  You  shall  know 
all,  sir,  and  shall  be  righted.  But  first  excuse  me,  sir,  ex- 
cuse me.     I  have  a  duty  to  discharge,  which  I  owe  to  society." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  Jane  appeared.  "  Send  Mr.  Pinch 
here,  if  you  please  Jane." 

Tom  came.  Constrained  and  altered  in  his  manner,  down- 
cast and  dejected,  visibly  confused  ;  not  liking  to  look  Peck- 
sniff in  the  face. 

The  honest  man  bestowed  a  glance  on  INIr.  Chuzzlewit, 
as  who  should  say  "  You  see  !  "  and  addressed  himself  to  Tom 
in  these  terms ;, 

"  Mr.  Pinch  I  have  left  the  vestr}'-window  unfastened. 
Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  go  and  secure  it ;  then  bring  the 
keys  of  the  sacred  edifice  to  me  ! " 

"  The  vestr)'-window,  sir  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"You  understand  me,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  think,"  returned  his 
patron.  "  Yes,  Mr.  Pinch,  the  vestry-window.  I  grieve  to 
say  that  sleeping  in  the  church  after  a  fatiguing  ramble,  I 
overheard  just  now  some  fragments,"  he  emphasized  that  word, 
"  of  a  dialogue  between  two  parties  ;  and  one  of  them  locking 
the  church  when  he  went  out,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  it  myself 
by  the  vestry-window.  Do  me  the  favor  to  secure  that  vestry- 
window,  Mr.  Pinch,  and  then  come  back  to  me." 

No  physiognomist  that  ever  dwelt  on  earth  could  have 
construed  Tom's  face  when  he  heard  these  words.  Wonder 
was  in  it,  and  a  mild  look  of  reproach,  but  certainly  not  fear 
or  guilt,  although  a  host  of  strong  emotions  struggled  to  dis- 
play themselves.  He  bowed  and  without  saying  one  word 
good  or  bad,  withdrew. 

"Pecksniff,"  cried  Martin,  in  a  tremble,  "what  does  all 
this  mean ,-'  You  are  not  going  to  do  anything  in  haste  )'ou 
may  regret  I  " 

"  No,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  firmly,  "No.  But 
I  have  a  duty  to  discharge  which  I  owe  to  society  ;  and  it 
shall  be  discharged,  my  friend,  at  any  cost !  " 

Oh  late-remembered,  much-forgotten,  mouthing,  braggart 
duty,  always  owed,  and  seldom  paid  in  any  other  coin  than 
punishment  and  wrath,  when  will  mankind  begin  to  know 
thee  !  When  will  men  acknowledge  thee  in  thy  neglected 
cradle,  and  thy  stunted  youth,  and  not  begin  their  recogni- 
tion in  thy  sinful  manhood  and  thy  desolate  old  age  !  Oh 
ermined  Judge  whose  duty  to  society  is,  now,   to  doom  the 


500 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ragged  criminal  to  punishment  and  death,  hadst  thou  never, 
Man,  a  duty  to  discharge  in  barring  up  the  hundred  open 
gates  that  wooed  him  to  the  felon's  dock,  and  throwing  but  ajar 
the  portals  to  a  decent  life  !  Oh  prelate,  prelate,  whose  duty  to 
society  it  is  to  mourn  in  melancholy  phrase  the  sad  degeneracy 
of  these  bad  times  in  which  thy  lot  of  honors  has  been  cast, 
did  nothing  go  before  thy  elevation  to  the  lofty  seat,  from 
which  thou  dealest  out  thy  homilies  to  other  tarriers  for  dead 
men's  shoes,  whose  duty  to  society  has  not  begun !  Oh 
magistrate,  so  rare  a  country  gentleman  and  brave  a  squire, 
had  you  no  duty  to  society,  before  the  ricks  were  blazing  and 
the  mob  were  mad  ;  or  did  it  spring  up,  armed  and  booted 
from  the  earth,  a  corps  of  yeomanry,  full-grown  ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  duty  to  society  could  not  be  paid  till  Tom 
came  back.  The  interval  which  preceded  the  return  of  that 
young  man,  he  occupied  in  a  close  conference  with  his  friend  ; 
so  that  when  Tow  did  arrive,  he  found  the  two  quite  ready  to 
receive  him.  Mary  was  in  her  own  room  above,  whither  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  always  considerate,  had  besought  old  Martin  to 
entreat  her  to  remain  some  half-hour  longer,  that  her  feelings 
might  be  spared. 

When  Tom  came  back,  he  found  old  Martin  sitting  by  the 
window,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  an  imposing  attitude  at  the 
table.  On  one  side  of  him  was  his  pocket-handkerchief ;  and 
on  the  other,  a  little  heap  (a  very  little  heap)  of  gold  and 
silver,  and  odd  pence.  Tom  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  it  was  his 
own  salary  for  the  current  quarter. 

"  Have  you  fastened  the  vestry-window,  Mr.  Pinch .''  "  said 
Pecksniff. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Thank  you.  Put  down  the  keys  if  vou  please,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Tom  placed  them  on  the  table.  He  held  the  bunch  by 
the  key  of  the  organloft  (though  it  was  one  of  the  smallest), 
and  looked  hard  at  it  as  he  laid  it  down.  It  had  been  an  old, 
old  friend  of  Tom's ;  a  kind  companion  to  him,  many  and 
many  a  day. 

"Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head:  "Oh  Mr, 
Pinch  !     I  wonder  you  can  look  me  in  the  face  !  " 

Tom  did  it  though  ;  and  notwithstanding  that  he  has  been 
described  as  stooping  generally,  he  stood  as  upright  then  as 
man  could  stand. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  taking  up  his  handkerchief, 
as  if  he  felt  that  he  should  want  it  soon,  "  I  will   not  dwell 


MA  R  TIN  CIJUZZL  E  WIT. 


SOI 


upon  the  past.  I  will  spare  you,  and  I  will  spare  myself,  that 
pain  at  least." 

Tom's  was  not  a  very  bright  eye,  but  it  was  a  very  expres- 
sive one  when  he  looked  at  Mr  Pecksniff,  and  said  : 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  very  glad  you  will  not  refer  to 
the  past." 

"  The  present  is  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dropping  a 
penny,  "and  the  sooner  thai  is  past,  the  better.  Mr.  Pinch, 
I  will  not  dismiss  you  without  a  word  of  explanation.  Even 
such  a  course  would  be  quite  justifiable  under  the  circum- 
stances ;  but  it  might  wear  an  appearance  of  hurr}%  and  I  will 
not  do  it ;  for_  I  am,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  knocking  down 
another  penny,  "  perfectly  self-possessed.  Therefore  I  will 
say  to  you,  what  I  have  already  said  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

Tom  glanced  at  the  old  gentleman,  who  nodded  now  and 
then  as  approving  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  sentences  and  senti- 
ments, but  interposed  between  them  in  no  other  way. 

"  From  fragments  of  a  conversation  which  I  overheard  in 
the  church,  just  now,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  "between 
yourself  and  Miss  Graham — I  say  fragments,  because  I  was 
slumbering  at  a  considerable  distance  from  you,  when  I  was 
roused  by  your  voices — and  from  what  I  saw,  I  ascertained 
(I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  not  to  have  ascertained,  Mr. 
Pinch)  that  you,  forgetful  of  all  ties  of  duty  and  of  honor, 
sir ;  regardless  of  the  sacred  laws  of  hospitality,  to  which  you 
were  pledged  as  an  inmate  of  this  house  ;  have  presumed  to 
address  Miss  Graham  with  un-returned  professions  of  attach- 
ment and  proposals  of  love." 

Tom  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Do  you  deny  it,  sir  t "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dropping 
one  pound  two  and  fourpence,  and  making  a  great  business 
of  picking  it  up  again. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Tom.     "  1  do  not." 

"  You  do  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  old 
gentleman.  "Oblige  me  by  counting  this  money,  Mr.  Pinch, 
and  putting  your  name  to  this  receipt.     You  do  not  ?" 

No,  Tom  did  not.  He  scorned  to  deny  it.  He  saw  that 
Mr.  Pecksniff  having  overheard  his  own  disgrace,  cared  not  a 
jot  for  sinking  lower  yet  in  his  contempt.  He  saw  that  he 
had  devised  this  fiction  as  the  readiest  means  of  getting  rid  of 
him  at  once,  but  that  it  must  end  in  that  any  way.  He  saw 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff  reckoned  on  his  not  denying  it,  because  his 
doing  so  and  explaining,  would  incense  the  oM  man  more  than 


502 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ever  against  Martin,  and  against  Mary :  while  Pecksniff  him- 
self would  only  have  been  mistaken  in  his  "fragments." 
Deny  it !     No. 

"  You  find  the  amount  correct,  do  you,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  "  said 
Pecksniff. 

"  Quite  correct,  sir,"  answered  Tom. 

"  A  person  is  waiting  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
"  to  carry  your  luggage  wherever  you  please.  We  part,  Mr. 
Pinch,  at  once,  and  are  strangers  from  this  time." 

Something  without  a  name  ;  compassion,  sorrow,  old 
tenderness,  mistaken  gratitude,  habit :  none  of  these,  and  yet 
all  of  them ;  smote  upon  Tom's  gentle  heart,  at  parting. 
There  was  no  such  soul  as  Pecksniff's  in  that  carcase  ;  and 
yet,  though  his  speaking  out  had  not  invohed  the  comprom- 
ise of  one  he  loved,  he  couldn't  have  denounced  the  very 
shape  and  figure  of  the  man.     Not  even  then. 

"  I  will  not  say,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shedding  tears, 
"  what  a  blow  this  is.  I  will  not  say  how  much  it  tries  me  ; 
how  it  works  upon  my  nature  ;  how  it  grates  upon  my  feelings. 
I  do  not  care  for  that.  I  can  endure  as  well  as  another  man. 
But  what  I  have  to  hope,  and  what  you  have  to  hope,  Mr. 
Pinch  (otherwise  a  great  responsibility  rests  upon  you),  is, 
that  this  deception  may  not  alter  my  ideas  of  humanity ;  that 
it  may  not  impair  my  freshness,  or  contract,  if  I  may  use  the 
expression,  my  Pinions.  I  hope  it  will  not  ;  I  don't  think  it 
will.  It  may  be  a  comfort  to  you,  if  not  now,  at  some  future 
time,  to  know,  that  I  shall  endeavor  not  to  think  the  worse  of 
my  fellow-creatures  in  general,  for  what  has  passed  between 
us.     Farewell !  " 

Tom  had  meant  to  spare  him  one  little  puncturation  with 
a  lancet,  which  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  administer,  but  he 
changed  his  mind  on  hearing  this,  and  said  : 

"  I  think  you  left  something  in  the  church,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  I  am  not 
aware  that  I  did." 

"  This  is  your  double  eye-glass,  I  believe  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Pecksniff,  with  some  degree  of  confusion. 
''I  am  obliged  to  you.     Put  it  down,  if  you  please." 

"I  found  it,"  said  Tom,  slowly,  "when  I  went  to  bolt 
the  vestry-window,  in  the  pew." 

So  he  had.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  taken  it  off  when  he  was 
bobbing  up  and  down,  lest  it  should  strike  against  the  panel- 
ling :  and  had  forgotten  it.     Going  back  to  the  church  with 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


503 


his  mind  full  of  having  been  watched,  and  wondering  very 
much  from  what  part  Tom's  attention  was  caught  by  the  door 
of  the  state  pew  standing  open.  Looking  into  it  he  found  the 
glass.  And  thus  he  knew,  and  by  returning  it  gave  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff the  information  that  he  knew,  where  the  listener  had 
been  ;  and  that  instead  of  overhearing  fragments  of  the  con- 
versation, he  must  have  rejoiced  in  every  word  of  it. 

"  I  am  glad  he's  gone,"  said  Martin,  drawing  a  long  breath 
when  Tom  had  left  the  room. 

"  It  is  a  relief,"  assented  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  It  is  a  great 
relief.  But  having  discharged — I  hope  with  tolerable  firmness 
• — the  duty  which  1  owed  to  society,  I  w'ill  now,  my  dear  sir,  if 
you  will  give  nfe  leave,  retire  to  shed  a  few  tears  in  the  back 
garden,  as  an  humble  indivdual." 

Tom  went  up  stairs  :  cleared  his  shelf  of  books  :  packed 
them  up  with  his  music  and  an  old  fiddle  in  his  trunk  ;  got 
out  his  clothes  (they  were  not  so  many  that  they  made  his 
head  ache)  ;  put  them  on  the  top  of  his  books  ;  and  went  into 
the  workroom  for  his  case  of  instruments.  There  was  a  ragged 
stool  there,  with  the  horsehair  all  sticking  out  of  the  top 
like  a  wig  :  a  very  Beast  of  a  stool  in  itself  :  on  which  he  had 
taken  up  his  daily  seat,  year  after  year,  during  the  whole 
period  of  his  service.  They  had  grown  older  and  shabbier  in 
company.  Pupils  had  served  their  time  ;  seasons  had  come 
and  gone  ;  Tom  and  the  worn-out  stool  had  held  together 
through  it  all.  That  part  of  the  room  was  traditionally  called 
"Tom's  Corner."  It  had  been  assigned  to  him  at  first  be- 
cause of  its  being  situated  in  a  strong  draught,  and  a  great 
way  from  the  fire  ;  and  he  had  occupied  it  ever  since.  There 
were  portraits  of  him  on  the  wall,  with  all  his  weak  points  mon- 
strously portrayed.  Diabolical  sentiments,  foreign  to  his 
character,  were  represented  as  issuing  from  his  mouth  in  fat 
balloons.  Every  pupil  had  added  something,  even  unto  fancy 
portraits  of  his  father  with  one  eye,  and  of  his  mother  with  a 
disproportionate  nose,  and  especially  of  his  sister  ;  who  always 
being  presented  as  extremely  beautiful,  made  full  amends  to 
Tom  for  any  other  joke.  Under  less  uncommon  circumstances, 
it  would  have  cut  Tom  to  the  heart  to  leave  these  things,  and 
think  that  he  saw  them  for  the  last  time  ;  but  it  didn't  now. 
There  was  no  Pecksniff ;  there  never  had  been  a  Pecksniff ; 
and  all  his  other  griefs  were  swallowed  up  in  that. 

So  when  he  returned  into  the  bed-room,  and,  having  fas- 
tened his  box  and  a  carpet-bag,  put  on  his  walking  gaiters,  and 


^04  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

his  great  coat,  and  his  hat,  and  taken  his  stick  in  his  hand, 
looked  round  it  for  the  last  time.  Early  on  summer  mornings, 
and  by  the  light  of  private  candle-ends  on  winter  nights,  he 
had  read  himself  half  blind  in  this  same  room.  He  had  tried 
in  this  same  room  to  learn  the  fiddle  under  the  bedclothes,  but 
yielding  to  objections  from  the  other  pupils  had  reluctantly 
abandoned  the  design.  At  any  other  time  he  would  have 
parted  from  it  with  a  pang,  thinking  of  all  he  had  learned 
there,  of  the  many  hours  he  had  passed  there  ;  for  the  love  of 
his  very  dreams.  But  there  was  no  Pecksniff  ;  there  never 
had  been  a  Pecksniff ;  and  the  unreality  of  Pecksniff  extended 
itself  to  the  chamber,  in  which,  sitting  on  one  particular  bed, 
the  thing  supposed  to  be  that  Great  Abstraction  had  often 
preached  morality  with  such  effect,  that  Tom  had  felt  a  mois- 
ture in  his  eyes,  while  hanging  breathless  on  the  words. 

The  man  engaged  to  bear  his  box — Tom  knew  him  well  ; 
a  Dragon  man — came  stamping  up  the  stairs,  and  made  a 
roguish  bow  to  Tom  (to  whom  in  common  times  he  would 
have  nodded  with  a  grin),  as  though  he  were  aware  of  what 
had  happened,  and  wished  him  to  perceive  it  made  no  differ- 
ence in  him.  It  was  clumsily  done  ;  he  was  a  mere  waterer  of 
horses  ;  but  Tom  liked  the  man  for  it,  and  felt  it  more  than 
going  away. 

Tom  would  have  helped  him  with  the  box,  but  he  made  no 
more  of  it,  though  it  was  a  heavy  one,  than  an  elephant  would 
have  made  of  a  castle  :  just  swinging  it  on  his  back  and  bowl- 
ing down  stairs  as  if,  being  naturally  a  heavy  sort  of  fellow,  he 
could  carry  a  box  infinitely  better  than  he  could  go  alone. 
Tom  took  the  carpet-bag,  and  went  down  stairs  along  with  him. 
At  the  outer  door  stood  Jane,  ciying  with  all  her  might ;  and 
on  the  steps  was  Mrs.  Lupin,  sobbing  bitterely,  and  putting  out 
her  hand  for  Tom  to  shake. 

"  You're  coming  to  the  Dragon,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  "  no.  I  shall  walk  to  Salisbury  to-night. 
I  couldn't  stay  here.  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  make  me  so 
unhappy,  Mrs.  Lupin." 

"  But  you'll  come  to  the  Dragon,  Mr.  Pinch.  If  it's  only 
for  to-night.     To  see  me,  you  know  :  not  as  a  traveller." 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  "  said  Tom,  wiping  his  eyes.  "  The 
kindness  of  people  is  enough  to  break  one's  heart  !,  I  mean 
to  go  to  Salisbury  to-night,  my  dear  good  creature.  If  you'll 
take  care  of  my  box  foi'  me,  till  I  write  for  it,  I  shall  consider 
it  the  greatest  kindness  you  can  do  me." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


505 


"  I  wish,"  cried  Mrs.  Lupin,  "there  were  twenty  boxes, 
Mr.  Pinch,  that  I  might  have  'em  all." 

"  Thank'ee,"  said  Tom.  "  It's  like  you.  Good  bye. 
Good  bye." 

There  were  several  people,  young  and  old,  standing  about 
the  door,  some  of  whom  cried  with  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  while  others 
tried  to  keep  up  a  stout  heart,  as  Tom  did  •  and  others  were 
absorbed  in  admiration  of  Mr.  Pecksniff — a  man  who  could 
build  a  church,  as  one  may  say,  by  squinting  at  a  sheet  of 
paper  ;  and  others  were  divided  between  that  feeling,  and  sym- 
pathy with  Tom.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  appeared  on  the  top  of 
the  steps,  simultaneously  with  his  old  pupil,  and  while  Tom 
was  talking  witlrMrs.  Lupin  kept  his  hand  stretched  out,  as 
though  he  said  "  Go  forth  !  "  When  Tom  went  forth,  and  had 
turned  the  corner,  Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head,  shut  his 
eyes,  and  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  shut  the  door.  On  which,  the 
best  of  Tom's  supporters  said  he  must  have  done  some  dreadful 
deed,  or  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  never  could  have  felt 
like  that.  If  it  had  been  a  common  quarrel  (they  observed) 
he  would  have  said  something,  but  when  he  didn't,  Mr.  Pinch 
must  have  shocked  him  dreadfully. 

Tom  was  out  of  hearing  of  their  shrewd  opinions,  and 
plodded  on  as  steadily  as  he  could  go,  until  he  came  within 
sight  of  the  turnpike  where  the  tollman's  family  had  cried  out 
"Mr.  Pinch!"  that  frosty  morning  when  he  went  to  meet 
young  Martin.  He  had  got  through  the  village,  and  this  toll- 
bar  was  his  last  trial  ;  but  when  the  infant  toll-takers  came 
screeching  out,  he  had  half  a  mind  to  run  for  it,  and  make  a 
bolt  across  the  country. 

"Why  deary  Mr.  Pinch  !  oh  deary  sir!"  exclaimed  the 
tollman's  wife.  "  What  an  unlikely  time  for  you  to  be  a  going 
this  way  with  a  bag  !  " 

"  I  am  going  to  Salisbury,"  said  'i'om. 

" Why,  goodness,  Where's  the  gig  then?"  cried  the  toll- 
man's wife,  looking  down  the  road,  as  if  she  thought  Tom 
might  have  been  upset  without  observing  it. 

"  I  haven't  got  it,"  said  Tom.  "  1  ■ — "  he  couldn't  evade 
it  ;  he  felt  she  would  have  him  in  the  next  question,  if  he  got 
over  this  one.     "  I  have  left  Mr,  Pecksniff." 

The  tollman — a  crusty  customer,  always  smoking  solitary 
pipes  in  a  Windsor  chair,  inside,  set  artfully  between  two  little 
windows  that  looked  up  and  down  the  road,  so  that  when  he 
saw  anything  coming  up,  he  might  hug  himself  on  having  toll 


5o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

to  take,  and  when  he  saw  it  going  down,  might  hug  himself  on 
having  taken  it — the  tollman  was  out  in  an  instant. 

"  Left  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  the  tollman. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  left  him." 

The  tollman  looked  at  his  wife,  uncertain  whether  to  ask 
her  if  she  had  anything  to  suggest,  or  to  order  her  to  mind 
the  children.  Astonishment  making  him  surly,  he  preferred 
the  latter,  and  sent  her  into  the  toll-house,  with  a  flea  in  her 
ear. 

"  You  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  the  tollman,  folding  his 
arms,  and  spreading  his  legs.  "  I  should  as  soon  have  thought 
of  his  head  leaving  him." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Tom,  "  so  should  I,  yesterday.  Good 
night !  " 

If  a  heavy  drove  of  oxen  hadn't  come  by,  immediately,  the 
tollman  would  have  gone  down  to  the  village  straight,  to  in- 
quire into  it.  As  things  turned  out,  he  smoked  another  pipe, 
and  took  his  wife  into  his  confidence.  But  their  united  saga- 
city could  make  nothing  of  it,  and  they  went  to  bed — meta- 
phorically— in  the  dark.  But  several  times  that  night,  when  a 
wagon  or  other  vehicle  came  through,  and  the  driver  asked  the 
toll-keeper  "  What  news  ?  "  he  looked  at  the  man  by  the  light  of 
his  lantern,  to  assure  himself  he  had  an  interest  in  the  subject, 
and  then  said,  wrapping  his  watch-coat  round  his  legs  • 

"  You've  heard  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  down  yonder .''  " 

"  Ah  !  sure-ly  !  " 

"  And  of  his  young  man  Mr.  Pinch  p'raps  ?  " 

"Ah!" 

"  They'-ve  parted." 

After  every  one  of  these  disclosures,  the  tollman  plunged 
into  his  house  again,  and  was  seen  no  more,  while  the  other 
side  went  on,  in  great  amazement. 

But  this  was  long  after  Tom  was  abed,  and  Tom  was  now 
with  his  face  towards  Salisbury,  doing  his  best  to  get  there. 
The  evening  was  beautiful  at  first,  but  it  became  cloudy  and 
dull  at  sunset,  and  the  rain  fell  heavily  soon  afterwards.  For 
ten  long  miles  he  plodded  on,  wet  through,  until  at  last  the 
lights  appeared,  and  he  came  into  the  welcome  precincts  of 
the  city. 

He  went  to  the  inn  where  he  had  waited  for  Martin,  and 
briefly  answering  their  inquiries  after  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ordered 
a  bed.  He  had  no  heart  for  tea  or  supper,  meat  or  drink  of 
any  kind,  but  sat  by  himself  before   an  empty  table  in  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


507 


public  room  while  the  bed  was  getting  ready,  revolving  in  his 
mind  all  that  had  had  happened  that  eventful  day,  and  won- 
dering what  he  could  or  should  do  for  the  future.  It  was  a 
great  relief  when  the  chambermaid  came  in,  and  said  the  bed 
was  ready. 

It  was  a  low  four-poster  shelving  downward  in  the  centre 
like  a  trough,  and  the  room  was  crowded  with  impracticable 
tables  and  exploded  chests  of  drawers,  full  of  damp  linen.  A 
graphic  representation  in  oil  of  a  remarkably  fat  ox  hung 
over  the  fireplace,  and  the  portrait  of  some  former  landlord 
(who  might  have  been  the  ox's  brother,  he  was  so  like  him) 
stared  roundly  iij,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  A  variety  of  queer 
smells  were  partially  quenched  in  the  prevailing  scent  of  very 
old  lavender ;  and  the  window  had  not  been  opened  for  such 
a  long  space  of  time,  that  it  pleaded  immemorial  usage,  and 
wouldn't  come  open  now. 

These  were  trifles  in  themselves,  but  they  added  to  the 
strangeness  of  the  place,  and  did  not  induce  Tom  to  forget 
his  new  position.  Pecksniff  had  gone  out  of  the  world — had 
never  been  in  it — and  it  was  as  much  as  Tom  could  do  to  say 
his  prayers  without  him.  But  he  felt  happier  afterwards,  and 
went  to  sleep,  and  dreamed  about  him  as  he  Never  Was. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 


TREATS     OF     TODGERS  S    AGAIN  ;   AND     OF    ANOTHER     BLIGHTED 
PLANT    BESIDES    THE    PLANTS    UPON    THE    LEADS. 

Early  on  the  day  next  after  that  on  which  she  bade  adieu 
to  the  halls  of  her  youth  and  the  scenes  of  her  childhood, 
Miss  Pecksniff,  arriving  safely  at  the  coach  office  in  London, 
was  there  received,  and  conducted  to  her  peaceful  home  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  the  Monument,  by  Mrs.  Todgers.  M. 
Todgers  looked  a  little  worn  by  cares  of  gravy  and  other 
such  solicitudes  arising  out  of  her  establishment,  but  displayed 
her  usual  earnestness  and  warmth  of  manner. 

"  And  how,  my  sweet  Miss  Pecksniff,"  said  she,  "  how  is 
your  princely  pa  ?  " 

Miss  Pecksniff  signified  (in  confidence)  that  he   contem- 


5o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

plated  the  introduction  of  a  princely  ma  ;  and  repeated  the 
sentiment  that  she  wasn't  blind,  and  wasn't  quite  a  fool,  and 
wouldn't  bear  it. 

Mrs.  Todgers  was  more  shocked  by  the  intelligence  than 
any  one  could  have  expected.  She  was  quite  bitter.  She 
said  there  was  no  truth  in  man,  and  that  the  warmer  he  ex- 
pressed himself,  as  a  general  principle,  the  falser  and  more 
treacherous  he  was.  She  foresaw  with  astonishing  clearness 
that  the  object  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  attachment  was  designing, 
worthless,  and  wicked  ;  and  receiving  from  Charity  the  fullest 
comfirmation  of  these  views,  protested  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
that  she  loved  Miss  Pecksniff  like  a  sister,  and  felt  her  in- 
juries as  if  they  were  her  own. 

"  Your  real  darling  sister,  I  have  not  seen  her  mor§  than 
once  since  her  marriage,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  and  then  I 
thought  her  looking  poorly.  My  sweet  Miss  Pecksniff,  I 
always  thought  that  you  was  to  be  the  lady  .-^ " 

"  Oh  dear  do  !  "  cried  Cherr}%  shaking  her  head.  "  Oh  no, 
Mrs.  Todgers.  Thank  you.  No  !  not  for  any  consideration 
he  could  offer." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  with  a  sigh, 
"  I  feared  it  all  along.  But  the  misery  we  have  had  from  that 
match,  here  among  ourselves,  in  this  house,  my  dear  Miss 
Pecksniff,  nobody  would  believe." 


"Lor,  Mrs.  Todgers 


"  Awful,  awful  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  strong  em- 
phasis.    "  You  recollect  our  youngest  gentleman,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Cherr\\ 

"  You  might  have  observed,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "how  he 
used  to  w-atch  your  sister  ;  and  that  a  kind  of  stony  dumbness 
came  over  him  whenever  she  was  in  company.''  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  Cheriy, 
in  a  peevish  manner,  "  What  nonsense,  Mrs.  Todgers !  " 

"  My  dear,"  returned  that  lady  in  a  hollow  voice,  "I  have 
seen  him,  again  and  again,  sitting  over  his  pie  at  dinner,  with 
his  spoon  a  perfect  fixture  in  his  mouth,  looking  at  your  sister. 
I  have  seen  him  standing  in  a  corner  of  our  drawing-room, 
gazing  at  her,  in  such  a  lonely,  melancholy  state,  that  he  was 
more  like  a  Pump  than  a  man,  and  might  have  drawed 
tears." 

"I  never  saw  it!  "  cried  Cherr}^ ;  "that's  all  I  can  say." 

"  But  when  the  marriage  took  place,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
proceeding  with  her  subject,  "  when  it  was  in  the  paper,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWFT.  509 

was  read  out  here  at  breakfast,  I  thought  he  had  taken  leave 
of  his  senses,  I  did  indeed.  The  violence  of  that  young  man, 
my  dear  Miss  Pecksniff ;  the  frightful  opinions  he  expressed 
upon  the  subject  of  self-destruction  ;  the  extraordinary  actions 
he  performed  with  his  tea  ;  the  clenching  way  in  which  he  bit 
his  bread  and  butter  ;  the  manner  in  which  he  taunted  Mr. 
Jinkins  ;  all  combined  to  form  a  picture  never  to  be  for- 
gotten." 

"It's  a  pity  he  didn't  destroy  himself,  I  think,"  observed 
Miss  Pecksniff. 

"  Plimself !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "it  took  another  turn  at 
night.  He  was  for  destroying  other  people  then.  There  was 
a  little  chaffing  going  on — I  hope  you  don't  consider  that  a 
low  expression.  Miss  Pecksniff ;  it  is  always  in  our  gentle- 
men's mouths — a  little  chafhng  going  on,  my  dear,  among 
'em,  all  in  good  nature,  when  suddenly  he  rose  up,  foaming 
with  his  fury,  and  but  for  being  held  by  three,  would  have 
had  Mr.  Jinkins's  life  with  a  boot-jack." 

Miss  Pecksniff's  face  expressed  supreme  indifference. 

"And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "now  he  is  the  meekest 
of  men.  You  can  almost  bring  the  tears  into  his  eyes  by 
looking  at  him.  He  sits  with  me  the  whole  day  long  on 
Sundays,  talking  in  such  a  dismal  way  that  I  find  it  next  to 
impossible  to  keep  my  spirits  up  equal  to  the  accommodation 
of  the  boarders.  His  only  comfort  is  in  female  society.  He 
takes  me  half-price  to  the  play,  to  an  extent  which  1  some- 
times fear  is  beyond  his  means  ;  and  I  see  the  tears  a  standing 
in  his  eyes  during  the  whole  performance — particularly  if  il  is 
anything  of  a  comic  nature.  The  turn  1  experienced  only 
yesterday,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  putting  her  hand  to  her  side, 
"  when  the  housemaid  threw  his  bedside  carpet  out  of  the 
window  of  his  room,  while  I  w^as  sitting  here,  no  one  can 
imagine.  I  thought  it  was  him,  and  that  he  had  done  it' at 
last  !  " 

The  contempt  with  which  Miss  Charity  received  this 
pathetic  account  of  the  state  to  which  the  youngest  gentle- 
man in  company  was  reduced,  did  not  say  much  for  her  power 
of  sympathizing  with  that  unfortunate  character.  She  treated 
it  with  great  levity,  and  went  on  to  inform  herself,  then  and 
afterwards,  whether  any  other  changes  had  occurred  in  the 
commercial  boarding-house. 

Mr.  Bailey  was  gone,  and  had  been  succeeded  (such  is  the 
decay  of  human  greatness  \)  by  an  old  woman   whose  name 


5IO 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


was  reported  to  be  Tamaroo — which  seemed  an  impossibility. 
Indeed  it  appeared  in  the  fulness  of  time  that  the  jocular 
boarders  had  appropriated  the  word  from  an  English  ballad, 
in  which  it  is  supposed  to  express  the  bold  and  fiery  nature 
of  a  certain  hackney-coachman  ;  and  that  it  was  bestowed 
upon  Mr.  Bailey's  successor  by  reason  of  her  having  nothing 
fiery  about  her,  except  an  occasional  attack  of  that  fire  which 
is  called  St.  Anthony's.  This  ancient  female  had  been 
engaged,  in  fulfilment  of  a  vow,  registered  by  Mrs.  Todgers, 
that  no  more  boys  should  darken  the  commercial  doors  ;  and 
she  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  total  absence  of  all  compre- 
hension upon  every  subject  whatever.  She  was  a  perfect 
Tomb  for  messages  and  small  parcels  ;  and  when  despatched 
to  the  Post-office  with  letters,  had  been  frequently  se*n 
endeavoring  to  insinuate  them  into  casual  chinks  in  private 
doors,  under  the  delusion  that  any  door  with  a  hole  in  it 
would  answer  the  purpose.  She  was  a  very  little  old  woman, 
and  always  wore  a  very  coarse  apron  with  a  bib  before  and 
a  loop  behind,  together  with  bandages  on  her  wrists,  which 
appeared  to  be  afflicted  with  an  everlasting  sprain.  She  was 
on  all  occasions  chary  of  opening  the  street-door,  and  ardent 
to  shut  it  again  ;  and  she  waited  at  table  in  a  bonnet. 

This  was  the  only  great  change  over  and  above  the  change 
which  had  fallen  on  the  youngest  gentleman.  As  for  him,  he 
more  than  corroborated  the  account  of  Mrs.  Todgers ; 
possessing  greater  sensibility  than  even  she  had  given  him 
credit  for.  He  entertained  some  terrible  notions  of  Destiny, 
among  other  matters,  and  talked  much  about  people's 
"  Missions ; "  upon  which  he  seemed  to  have  some  private 
information  not  generally  attainable,  as  he  knew  it  had  been 
poor  Merry's  mission  to  crush  him  in  the  bud.  He  was  very 
frail,  and  tearful  ;  for  being  aware  that  a  shepherd's  mission 
was  to  pipe  to  his  flocks,  and  that  a  boatswain's  mission 
was  to  pipe  all  hands,  and  that  one  man's  mission  was  to  be 
a  paid  piper,  and  another  man's  mission  was  to  pay  the  piper, 
so  he  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  his  own  peculiar  mission 
was  to  pipe  his  eye.     Which  he  did  perpetually. 

He  often  informed  Mrs.  Todgers  that  the  sun  had  set 
upon  him  ;  that  the  billows  had  rolled  over  him  ;  that  the 
Car  of  Juggernaut  had  crushed  him  ;  and  also  that  the  deadly 
Upas  tree  of  Java  had  blighted  him.     His  name  was  Moddle. 

Towards  this  most  unhappy  Moddle,  Miss  Pecksniff  con- 
ducted herself  at  first  with  distant  haughtiness,  being  in  no 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  5 1 1 

humor  to  be  entertained  with  dirges  in  honor  of  her  married 
sister.  The  poor  young  gentleman  was  additionally  crushed 
by  this,  and  remonstrated  with  Mrs.  Todgers  on  the  subject. 

"  Even  she  turns  from  me,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  Moddle. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  try  and  be  a  little  bit  more  cheerful, 
sir  ?  "  retorted  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Cheerful,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  cheerful  !  "  cried  the  youngest 
gentleman  :  "  when  she  reminds  me  of  days  for  ever  fled,  Mrs. 
Todgers  !  " 

"  Then  you  had  better  avoid  her  for  a  short  time,  if  she 
does,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  and  come  to  know  her  again,  by 
degrees.     That's  my  advice." 

"But  I  can't  avoid  her,"  replied  Moddle.  "I  haven't 
strength  of  mind  to  do  it.  Oh,  Mrs.  Todgers,  if  you  knew 
what  a  comfort  her  nose  is  to  me  ! " 

"  Her  nose,  sir  !  "  Mrs.  Todgers  cried. 

"  Her  profile,  in  general,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman, 
"  but  particularly  her  nose.  It's  so  like  ;  "  here  he  yielded 
to  a  burst  of  grief  ;  "  it's  so  like  hers  who  is  Another's,  Mrs. 
Todgers  !  " 

The  observant  matron  did  not  fail  to  report  this  conversa- 
tion to  Charity,  who  laughed  at  the  time,  but  treated  Mr. 
Moddle  that  very  evening  with  increased  consideration,  and 
presented  her  side-face  to  him  as  much  as  possible.  Mr. 
Moddle  was  not  less  sentimental  than  usual  ;  was  rather  more 
so,  if  anything  ;  but  he  sat  and  stared  at  her  with  glistening 
eyes,  and  seemed  grateful. 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  said  the  lady  of  the  Boarding-House  next 
day.  "  You  held  up  your  head  last  night.  You're  coming 
round,  I  think." 

"  Only  because  she's  so  like  her  who  is  Another's,  Mrs. 
Todgers,"  rejoined  the  youth.  "  When  she  talks,  and  when 
she  smiles,  I  think  I'm  looking  on  her  brow  again,  Mrs. 
Todgers." 

This  was  likewise  carried  to  Charity,  who  talked  and 
smiled  next  evening  in  her  most  engaging  manner,  and 
rallying  Mr.  Moddle  on  the  lowness  of  his  spirits,  challenged 
him  to  play  a  rubber  at  cribbage.  Mr.  Moddle  taking  up  the 
gauntlet,  they  played  several  rubbers  for  sixpences,  and 
Charity  won  them  all.  This  may  have  been  partially  attribut- 
able to  the  gallantry  of  the  youngest  gentleman,  but  it  was 
certainly  referable  to  the  state  of  his  feelings  also  :  for  his 
eyes  being  frequently  dimmed  by  tears,  he  thought  that  aces 


512 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


were  tens,  and  knaves  queens,  which  at  times  occasioned  some 
confusion  in  his  play. 

On  the  seventh  night  of  cribbage,  when  Mrs.  Todgers, 
sitting  by,  proposed  that  instead  of  gambling  they  should  play 
for  "  love,"  Mr.  Moddle  was  seen  to  change  color.  On  the 
fourteenth  night,  he  kissed  Miss  Pecksniff's  snuffers,  in  the 
passage,  when  she  went  up  stairs  to  bed  ;  meaning  to  have 
kissed  her  hand,  but  missing  it. 

In  short,  Mr.  Moddle  began  to  be  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  Miss  Pecksniff's  mission  was  to  comfort  him  ;  and  Miss 
Pecksniff  began  to  speculate  on  the  probability  of  its  being 
her  mission  to  become  ultimately  Mrs.  Moddle.  He  was  a 
young  gentleman  (Miss  Pecksniff  was  not  a  very  young  lady) 
with  rising  jDrospects,  and  "  almost "  enough  to  live  on. 
Really  it  looked  very  well. 

Besides,  besides,  he  had  been  regarded  as  devoted  to 
Merry.  Merry  had  joked  about  him,  and  had  once  spoken 
of  it  to  her  sister  as  a  conquest.  He  was  better  looking, 
better  shaped,  better  spoken,  better  tempered,  better  mannered 
than  Jonas.  He  was  easy  to  manage,  could  be  made  to  consult 
the  humors  of  his  Betrothed,  and  could  be  shown  off  like  a 
lamb  when  Jonas  was  a  bear.     There  was  the  rub  ! 

In  the  meantime  the  cribbage  went  on,  and  Mrs.  Todgers 
went  off ;  for  the  youngest  gentleman,  dropping  her  society, 
began  to  take  Miss  Pecksniff  to  the  play.  He  also  began,  as 
Mrs.  Todgers  said,  to  slip  home  "in  his  dinner-times,"  and 
to  get  away  from  "  the  office  "  at  unholy  seasons  ;  and  twice, 
as  he  informed  Mrs.  Todgers  himself,  he  received  anony- 
mous letters,  inclosing  cards  from  Furniture  Warehouses — 
clearly  the  act  of  that  ungentlemanly  ruffian  Jinkins  :  only  he 
hadn't  evidence  enough  to  call  him  out  upon.  All  of  which, 
so  Mrs.  Todgers  told  Miss  Pecksniff,  spoke  as  plain  English 
as  the  shining  sun. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Pecksniff,  you  mav  depend  upon  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Todgers,   "  that  he  is  burning  to  propose." 

"  My  goodness  me,  why  don't  he  then  ?  "  cried  Cherry. 

"  Men  are  so  much  more  timid  than  we  think  'em,  my 
dear,"  returned  Mrs.  Todgers.  "They  baulk  themselves 
continually.  I  saw  the  words  on  Todgers's  lips  for  months 
and  months,  and  months  before  he  said  'em." 

Miss  Pecksniff  submitted  that  Todgers  might  not  have 
been  a  fair  specimen. 

"  Oh  yes  he  was.     Oh  bless  you,  yes,  my  dear.     I   was 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


513 


ver)'  particular  in  those  days,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers,  bridling.  "  No,  no.  You  give  Mr.  Moddle  a  little 
encouragement,  Miss  Pecksniff,  if  you  wish  him  to  speak  ;  and 
he'll  speak  fast  enough,  depend  upon  it." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  encouragement  he  would 
have,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  returned  Charity.  "  He  walks  with 
me,  and  plays  cards  with  me,  and  he  comes  and  sits  alone 
with  me." 

"Quite  right,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  That's  indispensable, 
my  dear." 

"  And  he  sits  ver\-  close  to  me." 

"Also  quite  correct,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  And  he  looks  at  me." 

"To  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  And  he  has  his  arm  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  or  sofa, 
or  whatever  it  is — behind  me,  you  know." 

"/should  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

'  And  then  he  begins  to  cxy  \  " 

Mrs.  Todgers  admitted  that  he  might  do  better  than  that  • 
and  might  undoubtedly  profit  by  the  recollection  of  the  great 
Lord  Nelson's  signal  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar.  Still,  she 
said,  he  would  come  round,  or,  not  to  mince  the  matter,  would 
be  brought  round,  if  Miss  Pecksniff  took  up  a  decided  posi- 
tion, and  plainly  showed  him  that  it  must  be  clone. 

Determining  to  regulate  her  conduct  by  this  opinion,  the 
young  lady  received  Mr.  Moddle,  on  the  earliest  subsequent 
occasion,  with  an  air  of  constraint ;  and  gradually  leading  him 
to  inquire,  in  a  dejected  manner,  \vhy  she  was  so  changed, 
confessed  to  him  that  she  felt  it  necessary  for  their  mutual 
peace  and  happiness  to  take  a  decided  step.  They  had  been 
much  together  lately,  she  observed,  much  together,  and  had 
tasted  the  sweets  of  a  genuine  reciprocity  of  sei'U:iment.  She 
never  could  forget  him,  nor  could  she  ever  cease  to  think  of 
him  with  feelings  of  the  liveliest  friendship  ;  but  people  had 
begun  to  talk,  the  thing  had  been  observed,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary that  they  should  be  nothing  more  to  each  other,  than  any 
gentleman  and  lady  in  society  usually  are.  She  was  glad  she 
had  had  the  resolution  to  say  thus  much  before  her  feelings 
had  been  tried  too  far  ;  they  had  been  greatly  tried,  she  would 
admit ;  but  though  she  was  weak  and  silly,  she  would  soon  get 
the  better  of  it,  she  hoped. 

Moddle,  who  had  by  this  time  become  in  the  last  degree 
maudlin,  and  wept  abundantly,  inferred  from  the  foregoing 


su 


J\/A  A'  TIN  CIIUZZLE I VI T. 


avowal,  that  it  was  his  mission  to  communicate  to  others  the 
blight  which  had  fallen  on  himself ;  and  that,  being  a  kind  of 
unintentional  Vampire,  he  had  had  Miss  Pecksniff  assigned 
to  him  by  the  Fates,  as  Victim  Number  One.  Miss  Pecksniff 
controverting  this  opinion  as  sinful,  Moddle  was  goaded  on  to 
ask  whether  she  could  be  contented  with  a  blighted  heart  ;  and 
it  appearing  on  further  examination  that  she  could  be, 
plighted  his  dismal  troth,  which  was  accepted  and  returned. 

He  bore  his  good  fortune  with  the  utmost  moderation. 
Instead  of  being  triumphant,  he  shed  more  tears  than  he  had 
ever  been  known  to  shed  before  :  and  sobbing,  said  : 

"  Oh  !  what  a  day  this  has  been  !  I  can't  go  back  to  the 
office  this  afternoon.  Oh,  what  a  tr\'ing  day  this  has  been. 
Good  Gracious  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXHI. 


FURTHER  PROCEEDINGS  IN  EDEN,  AND  A  PROCEEDING  OUT 
OF  IT.  MARTIN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY  OF  SOME  IMPOR- 
TANCE. 

From  Mr.  Moddle  to  Eden  is  an  easy  and  natural  transi- 
tion. Mr.  Moddle,  living  in  the  atmosphere  of  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's love,  dwelt  (if  he  had  but  known  it)  in  a  terrestrial 
Paradise.  The  thriving  city  of  Eden  was  also  a  terrestrial 
Paradise,  upon  the  showing  of  its  proprietors.  The  beautiful 
Miss  Pecksniff  might  have  been  poetically  described  as  a 
something  too  good  for  man  in  his  fallen  and  degraded  state. 
That  was  exactly  the  character  of  the  thriving  city  of  Eden, 
as  poetically  heightened  by  Zephaniah  Scadder,  General 
Choke,  and  other  worthies  :  part  and  parcel  of  the  talons  of 
that  great  American  Eagle,  which  is  always  airing  itself  sky- 
high  in  purest  aether,  and  never,  no  never,  never,  tumbles 
down  with  draggled  wings  into  the  mud. 

When  Marie  Tapley,  leaving  Martin  in  the  architectural 
and  surveying  offices,  had  effectually  strengthened  and  en- 
couraged his  own  spirits  by  the  contemplation  of  their  joint 
misfortunes,  he  proceeded,  with  new  cheerfulness,  in  search 
of  help  :  congratulating  himself,  as  he  went  along,  on  the 
enviable  position  to  which  he  had  at  last  attained. 

"  I   used  to  think,  sometimes,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  as  a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


515 


desolate  island  would  suit  me,  but  I  should  only  have  had 
myself  to  provide  for  there,  and  being  naturally  a  easy  man  to 
manage,  there  wouldn't  have  been  much  credit  in  that.  Now 
here  I've  got  my  partner  to  take  care  on,  and  he's  something 
like  the  sort  of  man  for  the  purpose.  I  want  a  man  as  is 
always  a  sliding  off  his  legs  when  he  ought  to  be  on  'em.  I 
want  a  man  as  is  so  low  down  in  the  school  of  life,  that  he's 
always  a  making  figures  of  one  in  his  copy-book,  and  can't  get 
no  further.  I  want  a  man  as  is  his  own  great  coat  and  cloak, 
and  is  always  a  wrapping  himself  up  in  himself.  And  I  have 
got  him  too,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"  What  a  happiness  !  " 

He  paused  to  look  round,  uncertain  to  which  of  the  log- 
houses  he  should  repair. 

"  I  dont  know  which  to  take,"  he  observed  ;  "  that's  the 
truth.  They're  equally  prepossessing  outside,  and  equally 
commodious,  no  doubt,  within  ;  being  fitted  up  with  every  con- 
venience that  a  Alligator,  in  a  state  of  natur',  could  possibly 
require.  Let  me  see  !  The  citizen  as  turned  out  last  night, 
lives  under  water,  in  the  right-hand  dog-kennel  at  the  corner. 
I  don't  want  to  trouble  him  if  I  can  help  it,  poor  man,  for  he  is 
a  melancholy  object  :  a  reg'lar  Settler  in  every  respect. 
There's  a  house  with  a  winder,  but  I  am  afraid  of  their  being 
proud.  I  don't  know  whether  a  door  ain't  too  aristocratic  ; 
but  here  goes  for  the  first  one  !  " 

He  went  up  to  the  nearest  cabni.  and  knocked  with  his 
hand.      Being  desired  to  enter,  he  complied. 

"  Neighbor,"  said  Mark  :  "  for  I  avi  a  neighbor,  though 
you   don't  know  me  ;  I've  come  a  begging.     Hallo  !  hal — lo  ! 

•  Vm  I  a-bed,  and  dreaming  !  " 

He  made  this  exclamation  on  hearing  his  own  name  pro- 
nounced, and  finding  himself  clasped  about  the  skirts  by  two 
little  boys,  whose  faces  he  had  often  washed,  and  whose  sup- 
pers he  had  often  cooked,  on  board  of  that  noble,  and  fast- 
sailing  line  of  packet  ship,  the  Screw. 

"  My  eyes  is  wrong  !  "  said  Mark.  "  I  don't  believe  'em. 
That  ain't  my  fellow-passenger  yonder,  a  nursing  her  little 
girl,  who  I  am  sorry  to  see,  is  so  delicate  ;  and  that  ain't  her 
husband  as  come  lo  New  York  to  fetch  her.  Nor  these,"  he 
added,  looking  down  upon  the  boys,  "  aiiTt  them  two  young 
shavers  as  was  so  familiar  to  me  ;  though  they  are  uncommon 
like  'em.      That  I  must  confess." 

The  woman  shed  tears,  in  very  joy  to  see   him  ;  the  man 


5 1 6  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

shook  both  his  hands,  and  would  not  let  them  go  ;  the  two 
boys  hugged  his  legs  ;  the  sick  child,  in  the  mother's  arms, 
stretched  out  her  burning  little  lingers,  and  muttered,  in  her 
hoarse,  dry  throat,  his  well-remembered  name. 

It  was  the  same  family,  sure  enough.  Altered  by  the  salu- 
brious air  of  Eden.     But  the  same. 

"This  is  a  new  sort  of  a  morning  call,"  said  Mark,  draw- 
ing a  long  breath.  "  It  strikes  one  all  of  a  heap.  Wait  a 
little  bit !  I'm  a  coming  round,  fast.  That'll  do  !  These 
gentlemen  ain't  my  friends.  Are  they  on  the  wisiting  list  of 
the  house  }  " 

The  inquiry  referred  to  certain  gaunt  pigs,  who  had 
walked  in  after  him,  and  were  much  interested  in  the  heels  of 
the  family.  As  they  did  not  belong  to  the  mansion,  they  were 
expelled  by  the  two  little  boys. 

"  I  ain't  superstitious  about  toads,"  said  Mark,  looking 
round  the  room,  "  but  if  you  could  prevail  upon  the  two  or 
three  I  see  in  company,  to  step  out  at  the  same  time,  my 
young  friends,  I  think  they'd  find  the  open  air  refreshing. 
Not  that  I  at  all  object  to  'em.  A  very  handsome  animal 
is  a  toad,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  sitting  down  upon  a  stool  : 
"  very  spotted ;  very  like  a  partickler  style  of  old  gentleman 
about  the  throat  ;  very  bright-eyed,  very  cool,  and  very  slippy. 
But  one  sees  'em  to  the  best  advantage  out  of  doors  perhaps." 

While  pretending,  with  such  talk  as  this,  to  be  perfectly  at 
his  ease,  and  to  be  the  most  indifferent  and  careless  of  men, 
Mark  Tapley  had  an  eye  on  all  around  him.  The  wan  and 
meagre  aspect  of  the  family,  the  changed  looks  of  the  poor 
mother,  the  fevered  child  she  held  in  her  lap,  the  air  of  great 
despondency  and  little  hope  on  everything,  were  plain  to  him, 
and  made  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind.  He  saw  it  all  as 
clearly  and  as  quickly,  as  with  his  bodily  eyes  he  saw  the  rough 
shelves  supported  by  pegs  driven  between  the  logs,  of  which 
the  house  was  made  ;  the  flour-cask  in  the  corner,  serving  also 
for  a  table  ;  the  blankets,  spades,  and  other  articles  against  the 
walls  ;  the  damp  that  blotched  the  ground  ;  or  the  crop  of 
vegetable  rottenness  in  every  crevice  of  the  hut. 

"  How  is  it  that  you  have  come  here .''  "  asked  the  man, 
when  their  first  expressions  of  surprise  were  over. 

"  Why,  we  come  by  the  steamer  last  night,"  replied  Mark. 
"  Our  intention  is  to  make  our  fortuns  with  punctuality  and 
dispatch  ;  and  to  retire  upon  our  property  as  soon  as  ever  it's 
realized.     But  how  are  you  all  t     You're  looking  noble  " 


MARThV  CHUZZLEWIT. 


517 


"  We  are  but  sickly  now,"  said  the  poor  woman,  bending 
over  her  child.  "  But  we  shall  do  better  when  we  are  seasoned 
to  the  place." 

"  There  are  some  here,"  thought  Mark,  "  whose  seasoning 
will  last  for  ever." 

But  he  said  cheerfullv,  "  Do  better  I  To  be  sure  vou  will. 
We  shall  all  do  better.  What  we've  got  to  do  is,  to  keep  up 
our  spirits,  and  be  neighborly.  We  shall  come  all  right  in 
the  end,  never  fear.  That  reminds  me,  by  the  l)y,  that  my 
partner's  all  wrong  just  at  present  ;  and  that  I  looked  in,  to 
beg  for  him  I  wish  you'd  come,  and  give  me  your  opinion  of 
him,  master." 

That  must  have  been  a  very  unreasonable  request  on  the 
part  of  Mark  Tapley,  with  which,  in  their  gratitude  for  his 
kind  offices  on  board  the  ship,  they  would  not  have  complied 
instantly.  The  man  rose  to  accompany  him  without  a  mo- 
ment's delay.  Before  they  went,  Mark  took  the  sick  child  in 
his  arms,  and  tried  to  comfort  the  mother  j  but  the  hand  of 
death  was  on  it  then,  he  saw. 

They  found  Martin  in  the  house,  Iving  wrapped  up  in  his 
blanket  on  the  ground.  He  was  to  all  appearance,  very  ill 
indeed,  and  shook  and  shivered  horribly  :  not  as  people  do 
from  cold,  but  in  a  frightful  kind  of  spasm  or  convulsion,  that 
racked  his  whole  body.  Mark's  friend  pronounced  his  disease 
an  aggravated  kind  of  fever,  accompanied  with  ague  ;  which 
was  ver}'  common  in  those  parts,  and  which  he  predicted 
would  be  worse  to-morrow,  and  for  many  more  to-morrows. 
He  had  had  it  himself  off  and  on,  he  said,  for  a  couple  of 
years  or  so  ;  but  he  was  thankful  that,  while  so  many  he  had 
known  had  died  about  him,  he  had  escaped  with  life. 

"  And  with  not  too  much  of  that,"  thought  Mark,  surveying 
his  emaciated  form.     "  Eden  for  ever !  " 

They  had  some  medicine  in  their  chest  ;  and  this  man  of 
sad  experience  showed  Mark  how  and  when  to  administer  it, 
and  how  he  could  best  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  Martin.  His 
attentions  did  not  stop  there  ;  for  he  was  backwards  and  for- 
wards constantly,  and  rendered  Mark  good  service  in  all  his 
brisk  attempts  to  make  their  situation  more  endurable.  Hope 
or  comfort  for  the  future  he  could  not  bestow.  The  season 
was  a  sickly  one  ;  the  settlement  a  grave.  His  child  died 
that  night  ;  and  Mark  keeping  the  secret  from  Martin,  helped 
to  bury  it,  beneath  a  tree,  next  day. 

With  all  his  various  duties  of  attendance  upon  Martin  (who 


5 1 8  ^'if^ ^  TLY  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

became  the  more  exacting  in  liis  claims,  the  worse  he  grew), 
Mark  worked  out  of  doors,  early  and  late  ;  and  with  the  assist- 
ance of  his  friend  and  others,  labored  to  do  something  with 
their  land.  Not  that  he  had  the  least  strength  of  heart  or 
hope,  or  steady  purpose  in  so  doing,  beyond  the  habitual 
cheerfulness  of  his  disposition,  and  his  amazing  power  of  self- 
su^tainment  ;  for  within  himself,  he  looked  on  their  condition 
as  beyond  all  hope,  and  in  his  own  words,  "  came  out  strong  " 
in  consequence. 

"  As  to  coming  out  as  strong  as  I  could  wish,  sir,"  he  con- 
fided to  Martin  in  a  leisure  moment ;  that  is  to  say,  one  even- 
ing, while  he  was  washing  the  linen  of  the  establishment,  after 
a  hard  day's  work,  "  that  I  give  up.  It's  a  piece  of  good 
fortune  as  never  is  to  happen  to  me,  I  see  ! " 

"  Would  you  wish  for  circumstances  stronger  than  these  ?  " 
Martin  retorted  with  a  groan,  from  underneath  his  blanket. 

"  Why,  only  see  how  easy  they  might  have  been  stronger, 
sir,"  said  Mark,  "  if  it  wasn't  for  the  envy  of  that  uncommon 
fortun  of  mine,  which  is  always  after  me,  and  tripping  me  up. 
The  night  we  landed  here,  I  thought  things  did  look  pretty 
jolly.     I  won't  deny  it.     1  thought  they  did  look  pretty  jolly." 

"  How  do  they  look  now  ?  "  groaned  Martin. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mark,  "  Ah  to  be  sure.  That  's  the  question. 
How  do  they  look  now  !  On  the  very  first  morning  of  my 
going  out,  what  do  I  do  .-'  Stumble  on  a  family  I  know,  who 
are  constantly  assisting  of  us  in  all  sorts  of  wa}'s,  from  that 
time  to  this  !  That  won't  do,  vou  know  :  that  ain't  what  Td 
a  right  to  e.xpect.  If  I  had  stumbled  on  a  serpent,  and  got 
bit  ;  or  stumbled  on  a  first-rate  patriot,  and  got  bowie-knifed  ; 
or  stumbled  on  a  lot  of  Sympathizers  with  inverted  shirt-collars, 
and  got  made  a  lion  of  ;  I  might  have  distinguished  myself, 
and  earned  some  credit.  As  it  is,  the  great  object  of  my 
voyage  is  knocked  on  the  head.  So  it  would  be,  wherever  I 
went.     How  do  you  feel  to-night,  sir  ?  " 

"  Worse  than  ever,"  said  poor  Martin. 

"  That's  something,"  returned  Mark,  "  but  not  enough. 
Nothing  but  being  very  bad  myself,  and  jolly  to  the  last,  will 
ever  do  me  justice." 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  don't  talk  of  that,"  said  Martin,  with 
a  thrill  of  terror.  "  What  should  I  do,  Mark,  if  you  were 
taken  ill !  " 

Mr.  Tapley's  spirits  appeared  to  be  stimulated  by  this  re- 
mark, although  it  was  not  a  very  flattering  one.     He  pro- 


HI  A  J^  TIN  CIIUZZL  E  WIT. 


519 


ceecled  with  his  washing  in   a  brighter  mood  ;    and  observed 
"  tliat  his  glass  was  a-rising." 

"  There's  one  good  thing  in  this  place,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  scrubbing  away  at  the  linen,  "  as  disposes  me  to  be  jolly  ; 
and  that  is,  that  it's  a  reg'lar  little  United  States  in  itself. 
There's  two  or  three  American  settlers  left ;  and  they  coolly 
comes  over  one,  even  here,  sir,  as  if  it  was  the  wholesomest 
and  loveliest  spot  in  the  world.  But  they're  like  the  cock 
that  went  and  hid  himself  to  save  his  life,  and  was  found  out 
by  the  noise  he  made.  They  can't  help  crowing.  They  was 
born  to  do  it,  and  do  it  they  must,  whatever  comes  of  it."' 

Glancing  from  his  work,  out  at  the  door,  as  he  said  these 
words  Mark's  eyes  encountered  a  lean  person  in  a  blue  frock 
and  a  straw  hat,  with  a  short  black  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a 
great  hickory  stick,  studded  all  over  with  knots,  in  his  hand  ; 
who  smoking  and  chewing  as  he  came  along,  and  spitting  fre- 
quently, recorded  his  progress  by  a  train  of  decomposed  to- 
bacco on  the  ground. 

"  Here's  one  on  'em,"  crietl  Mark,  "  Hannibal  Chollop." 

"  Don't  let  him  in,"  said  Martin,  feebly. 

''  He  won't  want  any  letting  in,"  replied  Mark.  "  He'll 
come  in,  sir,"  Which  turned  out  to  be  quite  true,  for  he  did. 
His  face  was  almost  as  hard  and  knobby  as  stick  ;  and  so  were 
his  hands.  His  head  was  like  an  old  black  hearth-broom.  He 
sat  down  on  the  chest  willi  his  hat  on  ;  and  crossing  his  legs 
and  looking  up  at  Mark,  said  without  removing  his  pipe  : 

"  Well,  Mr.  Co  !  and  how  do  you  git  along,  sir  ?  " 

It  may  be  necessary  to  observe  that  Mr.  Tapley  had  gravely 
introduced  himself  to  all  strangers,  by  that  name. 

"  Pretty  well,  sir ;  pretty  well,"  said  Mark. 

"  If  this  ain't  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  ain't  it !  "  exclaimed  the 
visitor.     "  How  do  you  git  along,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  shook  his  head,  and  drew  the  blanket  over  it  in- 
voluntarily ;  for  he  felt  that  Hannibal  was  going  to  spit ;  and 
his  eye,  as  the  song  says,  was  upon  him. 

"  You  need  not  regard  me  sir,"  observed  Mr.  Chollop, 
complacently.     "  I  am  fever-proof,  and  likewise  agur." 

"Mine  was  a  more  selfish  motive,"  said  Martin,  looking  out 
again.     "  I  was  afraid  you  were  going  to " 

"  I  can  calc'late  my  distance,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Chollop, 
"  to  an  inch." 

With  a  proof  of  which  happy  faculty  he  inmiediately  fa- 
vored him. 


520 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  I  re-quire,  sir,"  said  Hannibal,  "  two  foot  clear  in  a  cir- 
c'lar  di-rection,  and  can  engage  my-self  toe  keep  within  it.  I 
have  gone  ten  foot,  in  a  circ'lar  di-rection,  but  that  was  for  a 


wager. 


"  I  hope  you  won  it,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"Well,  sir,  I  realized  the  stakes,"  said  Chollop.  "Yes, 
sir." 

He  was  silent  for  a  time,  during  which  he  was  actively 
engaged  in  the  formation  of  a  magic  circle  round  the  chest 
on  which  he  sat.  When  it  was  completed,  he  began  to  talk 
again. 

"  How  do  like  our  country,  sir  ?  "  he  inquired,  looking  at 
Martin. 

"  Not  at  all,"  was  the  invalid's  reply. 

Chollop  continued  to  smoke  without  the  least  appearance 
of  emotion,  until  he  felt  disposed  to  speak  again.  That  time 
at  length  arriving,  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and 
said  : 

"  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  you  say  so.  It  re-quires  An 
elevation,  and  A  preparation  of  the  intellect.  The  mind  of 
man  must  be  prepared  for  Freedom,  Mr.  Co." 

He  addressed  himself  to  Mark  :  because  he  saw  that  Mar- 
tin, who  wished  him  to  go,  being  already  half-mad  with  fever- 
ish irritation,  which  the  droning  voice  of  this  new  horror  ren- 
dered almost  insupportable,  had  closed  his  eyes,  and  turned 
on  his  uneasy  bed. 

"  A  little  bodily  preparation  wouldn't  be  amiss,  either, 
would  it,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  in  the  case  of  a  blessed  old  swamp 
like  this.?" 

"  Do  you  con-sider  this  a  swamp,  sir.'"  inquired  Chollop 
gravely. 

"  Why  yes,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I  haven't  a  doubt  about 
it,  myself." 

"  The  sentiment  is  quite  Europian,"  said  the  major,  "  and 
does  not  surprise  me  :  what  would  your  English  millions  say 
to  such  a  swamp  in  England,  sir .''  " 

"  They'd  say  it  was  an  uncommon  nasty  one,  I  should 
think,"  said  Mark  ;  "  and  that  they  would  rather  be  inoculated 
for  fever  in  some  other  way." 

"  Europian ! "  remarked  Chollop,  with  sardonic  pity, 
"  Quite  Europian  !  " 

And  there  he  sat.  Silent  and  cool,  as  if  the  house  were 
his  ;  smoking  away  like  a  factory  chimney. 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  5  2  i 

Mr.  Chollop  was,  of  course,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  in  the  country  ;  but  he  really  was  a  notorious  person  be- 
sides. He  was  usually  described  by  his  friends,  in  the  South 
and  West,  as  "  a  splendid  sample  of  our  na-tive  raw  material, 
sir,"  and  was  much  esteemed  for  his  devotion  to  rational  Lib- 
erty ;  for  the  better  propagation  whereof  he  usually  carried  a 
brace  of  revolving  pistols  in  his  coat  pocket,  with  seven  bar- 
rels a-piece.  He  also  carried,  amongst  other  trinkets,  a  sword- 
stick,  which  he  called  his  "Tickler  ;  "  and  a  great  knife,  which 
(for  he  was  a  man  of  a  pleasant  turn  of  humor)  he  called 
"  Ripper,"  in  allusion  to  its  usefulness  as  a  means  of  ventilat- 
ing the  stomach  of  any  adversar)'  in  a  close  contest.  He  had 
used  these  weapons  with  distinguished  effect  in  several  in- 
stances, all  duly  chronicled  in  the  newspapers ;  and  was 
greatly  beloved  for  the  gallant  manner  in  which  he  had  "job- 
bed out "  the  eye  of  one  gentleman,  as  he  was  in  the  act  of 
knocking  at  his  own  street-door. 

Mr.  Chollop  was  a  man  of  a  roving  disposition  ;  and,  in 
any  less  advanced  community,  might  have  been  mistaken  for 
a  violent  vagabond.  But  his  fine  qualities  being  perfectly  un- 
derstood and  appreciated  in  those  regions  where  his  lot  was 
cast,  and  where  he  had  many  kindred  spirits  to  consort  with, 
he  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  born  under  a  fortunate 
star,  which  is  not  alwavs  the  case  with  a  man  so  much  before 
the  age  in  which  he  lives.  Preferring,  with  a  view  to  the 
gratification  of  his  tickling  and  ripping  fancies,  to  dwell  upon 
the  outskirts  of  society,  and  in  the  more  remote  towns  and 
cities,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  emigrating  from  place  to  place, 
and  establishing  in  each  some  business — usually  a  newspaper 
— which  he  presently  sold  :  for  the  most  part  closing  the  bar- 
gain by  challenging,  stabbing,  pistolling,  or  gouging,  the  new 
editor,  before  he  had  quite  taken  possession  of  the  property. 

He  had  come  to  Eden  on  a  speculation  of  this  kind,  but 
had  abandoned  it,  and  was  about  to  leave.  He  always  intro- 
duced himself  to  strangers  as  a  worshipper  of  Freedom  ;  was 
the  consistent  advocate  of  Lvnch  law,  and  slaverv  ;  and  inva- 
riably  recommended,  both  in  print  and  speech,  the  "tarring 
and  feathering  "  of  any  unpopular  person  who  differed  from 
himself.  He  called  this  "  planting  the  standard  of  civiliza- 
tion in  the  wilder  gardens  of  Mv  country." 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Chollop  would  have  planted  this 
standard  in  Eden  at  Mark's  expense,  in  return  for  his  plain- 
ness of  speech  (for  the  genuine  Freedom  is  dumb,  save  when 


522 


MARTIN  CFTUZZLEWTT. 


she  vaunts  herself),  but  for  the  utter  desolation  and  decay 
prevailing  in  the  settlement,  and  his  own  approaching  depar- 
ture from  it.  As  it  was,  he  contented  himself  with  showing 
Mark  one  of  the  revolving-pistols,  and  asking  him  what  he 
thought  of  that  weapon. 

"  It  ain't  long  since  I  shot  a  man  down  with  that,  sir,  in 
the  State  of  Illinry,"  observed  Chollop. 

"  Did  you,  indeed ! "  said  Mark,  without  the  smallest 
agitation.     "Very  free  of  you.     And  very  independent !  " 

"  I  shot  him  down,  sir,"  pursued  Chollop,  "for  asserting 
in  the  Spartan  Portico,  a  tri-weekly  journal,  that  the  ancient 
Athenians  went  a-head  of  the  present  Locofoco  Ticket." 

"  And  what's  that  t  "  asked  Mark. 

"  Pkiropian  not  to  know,"  said  Chollop,  smoking  placidly. 
"  Europian  quite  !  " 

After  a  short  devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  magic  circle, 
he  resumed  the  conversation  by  observing  ; 

"  You  won't  half  feel  yourself  at  home  in  Eden,  now  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mark,  "  I  don't." 

"  You  miss  the  imposts  of  your  countiy.  You  miss  the 
house  dues  ?  "  observed  Chollop. 

"And  the  houses— rather,"  said  Mark. 

"  No  window  dues  here,  sir,"  observed  Chollop. 

"  And  no  windows  to  put  'em  on,"  said  Mark. 

"  No  stakes,  no  dungeons,  no  blocks,  no  racks,  no  scaf- 
folds, no  thumbscrews,  no  pikes,  no  pillories,"  said  Chollop. 

"  Nothing  but  rewolwers  and  bowie-knives,"  returned 
Mark.     "  And  what  are  they  t     Not  worth  mentioning  !  " 

The  man  who  had  met  them  on  the  night  of  their  arrival 
came  crawling  up  at  this   juncture,  and  looked  in  at  the  door. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Chollop.     "  How  do  jvw  git  along  ?  " 

He  had  considerable  difficulty  in  getting  along  at  all,  and 
said  as  much  in  reply. 

"  Mr.  Co.  And  me,  sir,"  observed  Chollop,  "  are  disputa- 
ting  a  piece.  He  ought  to  be  slicked  up  pretty  smart,  to 
disputate  between  the  Old  World  and  the  New,  I  do  expect .''  " 

"  Well  !  "  returned  the  miserable  shadow.     "  So  he  had." 

"  I  was  merely  observing,  sir,"  said  Mark,  addressing  this 
new  visitor,  "  that  I  looked  upon  the  city  in  which  we  have 
the  honor  to  live,  as  being  swampy.  What's  your  senti- 
ments t  " 

"  I  opinionate  it's  moist  perhaps,  at  certain  times,"  returned 
the  man. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWrr.  523 

"  But  not  as  moist  as  England,  sir  ?  "  cried  Chollop,  witli 
a  fierce  expression  in  his  face. 

"  Oh  !  Not  as  moist  as  England  ;  let  alone  its  Institutions," 
said  the  man. 

"  I  should  hope  there  ain't  a  swamp  in  all  Americay,  as 
don't  whip  that  small  island  into  mush  and  molasses," 
observed  Chollop,  decisively.  "  You  bought  slick,  straight, 
and  right  away,  of  Scadder,  sir  1  "  to  Mark. 

He  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Mr.  Chollop  winked  at 
the  other  citizen. 

"  Scadder  is  a  smart  man,  sir  .''  He  is  a  rising  man  }  He 
is  a  man  as  will  come  up'ards,  right  side  up,  sir  ?  "  Mr. 
Chollop  winked  again  at  the  other  citizen. 

"He  should  have  his  right  side  very  high  up,  if  I  had  my 
way,"  said  Mark.  "As  high  up  as  the  top  of  a  good  tall 
gallows,  perhaps." 

Mr.  Chollop  was  so  delighted  at  the  smartness  of  his  ex- 
cellent countryman  having  been  too  much  for  the  Britisher, 
and  at  the  Britisher's  resenting  it,  that  he  could  contain 
himself  no  longer,  and  broke  forth  in  a  shout  of  delight.  But 
the  strangest  exposition  of  this  ruling  passion  was  in  the 
other  :  the  pestilence-stricken,  broken,  miserable  shadow  of  a 
man  :  who  derived  so  much  entertainment  from  the  circum- 
siance,  that  he  seemed  to  forget  his  own  ruin  in  thinking  of 
it,  and  laughed  outright  when  he  said  "  that  Scadder  was  a 
smart  man,  and  had  draw'd  a  lot  of  British  ca]Mtal  that  way, 
as  sure  as  sun-up." 

After  a  full  enjoyment  of  this  joke,  Mr.  flamiibal  Chollop 
sat  smoking  and  improving  the  circle,  without  making  any 
attempts  either  to  converse,  or  to  take  leave  ;  apparently 
laboring  under  the  not  uncommon  delusion,  that  tor  a  free 
and  enlightened  citizen  of  the  United  States  to  con\  ert  another 
man's  house  into  a  spittoon  for  two  or  three  hours  together, 
was  a  delicate  attention,  full  of  interest  and  politeness,  of 
which  nobody  could  ever  tire.     At  last  he  rose. 

"  I  am  a  going  easy,"  he  observed. 

Mark  entreated  him  to  take  ])articular  care  of  himself. 

"Afore  1  go,"  he  said  sternly,  "  1  have  got  a  leetle  word 
to  say  to  you.     You  are  darnation  'cute  you  are." 

Mark  thanked  him  for  the  compliment. 

"  But  you  are  much  too  cute  to  last.  I  can't  con-ceive  of 
any  spotted  Painter  in  the  bush,  as  ever  was  so  riddled 
through  and  through  as  you  will  be,  1  bet." 


5 24  MARTIN  CHUZZLElVir. 

"  What  for  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  We  must  be  cracked-up,  sir,"  retorted  Chollop,  in  a  tone  | 
of  menace.     "  You  are  not  now  in  A  despotic  land.     We  are 
a  model  to  the  airth,  and  must  be  jist  cracked-up,  I  tell  you." 

"  What,  I  speak  too  free,  do  I  ?  "  cried  Mark. 

"  I  have  draw'd  upon  A  man,  and  fired  upon  A  man  for 
less,"  said  Chollop,  frowning.  "  I  have  know'd  strong  men 
obleeged  to  make  themselves  uncommon  skase  for  Less.  I 
have  know'd  men  Lynched  for  less,  and  beaten  into  punkin'- 
sarse  for  less,  by  an  enlightened  people.  We  are  the  intellect 
and  virtue  of  the  airth,  the  cream  Of  human  natur',  and  the 
flower  Of  moral  force.  Our  backs  is  easy  ris.  We  must  be 
cracked-up,  or  they  rises,  and  we  snarls.  We  shows  our  teeth, 
I  tell  you,  fierce.     You'd  better  crack  us  up,  you  had  !  " 

After  the  delivery  of  this  caution,  Mr.  Chollop  departed  ; 
with  Ripper,  Tickler,  and  the  revolvers,  all  ready  for  action 
on  the  shortest  notice. 

"  Come  out  from  under  the  blanket,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  he's 
gone.  What's  this  !"  he  added  softly  :  kneeling  down  to  look 
into  his  partner's  face,  and  taking  his  hot  hand.  What's 
come  of  all  that  chattering  and  swaggering  ?  He's  wandering 
in  his  mind  to-night,  and  don't  know  me:" 

Martin  indeed  was  dangerously  ill  ;  very  near  his  death. 
He  lay  in  that  state  many  days,  during  which  time  Mark's 
poor  friends,  regardless  of  themselves,  attended  him.  Mark, 
fatigued  in  mind  and  body  ;  working  all  the  day  and  sitting 
up  at  night ;  worn  with  hard  living  and  the  unaccustomed  toil 
of  his  new  life  ;  surrounded  by  dismal  and  discouraging  cir- 
cumstances of  every  kind ;  never  complained  or  yielded  in 
the  least  degree.  If  ever  he  had  thought  Martin  selfish  or 
inconsiderate,  or  had  deemed  him  energetic  only  by  fits  and 
starts,  and  then  too  passive  for  their  desperate  fortunes,  he 
now  forgot  it  all.  He  remembered  nothing  but  the  better 
qualities  of  his  fellow-wanderer,  and  was  devoted  to  him,  heart 
and  hand. 

Many  weeks  elapsed  before  Martin  was  strong  enough  to 
move  about  with  the  help  of  a  stick  and  Mark's  arm  ;  and 
even  then  his  recovery,  for  want  of  wholesome  air  and  proper 
nourishment,  was  very  slow.  He  was  yet  in  a  feeble  and 
weak  condition,  when  the  misfortune  he  had  so  much  dreaded 
fell  upon  them.     Mark  was  taken  ill. 

Mark  fought  against  it  \  but  the  malady  fought  harder, 
and  his  efforts  were  in  vain. 


o 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  525 

"Floored  for  the  present,  sir,"  he  said  one  morning,  sinl<- 
ing  back  upon  his  bed  :  "  but  jolly  !  " 

Floored  indeed,  and  by  a  heavy  blow  !  As  any  one  but 
Martin  might  have  known  beforehand. 

If  Mark's  friends  had  been  kind  to  Martin  (and  they  had 
been  very),  they  were  twenty  times  kinder  to  Mark.  And  now 
it  was  Martin's  turn  to  work,  and  sit  beside  the  bed  and 
watch,  and  listen  through  the  long,  long  nights,  to  every  sound 
in  the  gloomy  wilderness  ;  and  hear  poor  Mr,  Tapley,  in  his 
wandering  fancy,  playing  at  skittles  in  the  Dragon,  making 
love-remonstrances  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  getting  his  sea-legs  on 
board  the  Screw,  travelling  with  old  Tom  Pinch  on  English 
roads,  and  burning  stumps  of  trees  in  Eden,  all  at  once. 

But  whenever  Martin  gave  him  drink  or  medicine,  or 
tended  him  in  any  way,  or  came  into  the  house  returning  from 
some  drudgery  without,  the  patient  Mr.  Tapley  brightened  up,, 
and  cried  :   "  I'm  jolly,  sir  :  Em  jolly!  " 

Now,  when  Martin  began  to  think  of  this,  and  to  look  at 
Mark  as  he  lay  there  ;  never  reproaching  him  by  so  much  a.s 
an  expression  of  regret ;  never  murmuring  ;  always  striving  to 
be  manful  and  staunch  ;  he  began  to  think,  how  was  it  that 
this  man  who  had  had  so  few  advantages,  was  so  much  better 
than  he  who  had  had  so  many.?  And  attendance  upon  a  sick 
bed,  but  especially  the  sick  bed  of  one  whom  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  see  in  full  activity  and  vigor,  being  a  great  breeder 
of  reflection,  he  began  to  ask  himself  in  what  they  differed. 

He  was  assisted  in  coming  to  a  conclusion  on  this  head 
by  the  frequent  presence  of  ALark's  friend,  their  fellow-passen- 
ger across  the  ocean  :  which  suggested  to  him  that  in  regard 
to  having  aided  her,  for  example,  they  had  differed  very  much. 
Somehow  he  coupled  Tom  Pinch  with  this  train  of  reflection  ; 
and  thinking  that  Tom  would  be  very  likely  to  have  struck  up 
the  same  sort  of  acquaintance  under  similar  circumstances, 
began  to  think  in  what  respects  two  people  so  extremely  dif- 
ferent were  like  each  other,  and  were  unlike  him.  At  first 
sight  there  was  nothing  very  distressing  in  these  meditations, 
but  they  did  undoubtedly  distress  him  for  all  that, 

Martin's  nature  was  a  frank  and  generous  one  ;  but  he 
had  been  bred  up  in  his  grandfather's  house  ;  and  it  will  usu- 
ally be  found  that  the  meaner  domestic  vices  propagate  them- 
selves to  be  their  own  antagonists.  Selfishness  does  this  es- 
pecially;  so  do  suspicion,  cunning,  stealth,  and  covetous 
propensities.     Martin  had  unconsciously  reasoned  as  a  child, 


526 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  My  guardian  takes  so  much  thought  to  himself,  that  unless 
I  do  the  like  by  myself,  I  shall  be  forgotten."  So  he  had 
grown  selfish. 

But  he  had  never  known  it.  If  any  one  had  taxed  him 
with  the  vice,  he  would  have  indignantly  repelled  the  accusa- 
tion, and  conceived  himself  unworthily  aspersed.  He  never 
would  have  known  it,  but  that  being  newly  risen  from  a  bed  of 
dangerous  sickness,  to  watch  by  such  another  couch,  he  felt 
how  nearly  Self  had  dropped  into  the  grave,  and  what  a  poor 
dependent,  miserable  thing  it  was. 

It  was  natural  for  him  to  reflect — he  had  months  to  do  it  in 
— upon  his  own  escape,  and  Mark's  extremity.  This  led  him  to 
consider  which  of  them  could  be  the  better  spared,  and  why  ? 
Then  the  curtain  slowly  rose  a  very  little  way  ;  and  Self,  Self, 
Self,  was  shown  below. 

He  asked  himself,  besides,  when  dreading  Mark's  decease 
(as  all  men  do  and  must,  at  such  a  time),  whether  he  had  done 
his  duty  by  him,  and  had  deserved  and  made  a  good  response 
to  his  fidelity  and  zeal.  No.  Short  as  their  companionship 
had  been,  he  felt  in  many,  many  instances,  that  there  was 
blame  against  himself ;  and  still  inquiring  why,  the  curtain 
rose  a  little  more,  and  Self,  Self,  Self,  dilated  on  the  scene. 

It  was  long  before  he  fixed  the  knowledge  of  himself  so 
firmly  in  his  mind  that  he  could  thoroughly  discern  the  truth  ; 
but  in  the  hideous  solitude  of  that  most  hideous  place,  with 
Hope  so  far  removed.  Ambition  quenched,  and  Death  beside 
him  rattling  at  the  very  door,  reflection  came,  as  in  a  plague- 
beleaguered  town  ;  and  so  he  felt  and  knew  the  failing  of  his 
life,  and  saw  distinctly  what  an  ugly  spot  it  was. 

Eden  was  a  hard  school  to  learn  so  hard  a  lesson  in ;  but 
there  were  teachers  in  the  swamp  and  thicket,  and  the  pesti- 
lential air,  who  had  a  searching  method  of  their  own. 

He  made  a  solemn  resolution  that  when  his  strength  re- 
turned he  would  not  dispute  the  point  or  resist  the  conviction, 
but  would  look  upon  it  as  an  established  fact,  that  selfishness 
was  in  his  breast,  and  must  be  rooted  out.  He  was  so  doubt- 
ful (and  with  justice)  of  his  own  character,  that  he  determined 
not  to  say  one  word  of  vain  regret  or  good  resolve  to  Mark, 
but  steadily  to  keep  his  purpose  before  his  own  eyes  solely  : 
and  there  was  not  a  jot  of  pride  in  this  ;  nothing  but  humility 
and  steadfastness  :  the  best  armor  he  could  wear.  So  low 
had  Eden  brought  him  down.    So  high  had  Eden  raised  him  up. 

After  a  long  and  lingering  illness  (in  certain  forlorn  stages 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


5-^7 


of  which,  when  too  far  gone  to  speak,  he  had  feebly  written 
"  jolly  !  "  on  a  slate),  Mark  showed  some  symptoms  of  return- 
ing health.  They  came  and  went,  and  flickered  for  a  time  ; 
but  he  began  to  mend  at  last  decidedly ;  and  after  that,  con- 
tinued to  improve  from  day  to  day. 

As  soon  as  he  was  well  enough  to  talk  without  fatigue, 
Martin  consulted  him  upon  a  project  he  had  in  his  mind,  and 
which  a  few  months  back  he  would  have  carried  into  execution 
without  troubling  anybody's  head  but  his  own. 

"  Ours  is  a  desperate  case,"  said  Martin.  "  Plainly.  The 
place  is  deserted  ;  its  failure  must  have  become  known ;  and 
selling  what  we  have  bought  to  any  one  for  anything  is  hope- 
less, even  if  it  were  honest.  We  left  home  on  a  mad  enter- 
prise, and  have  failed.  The  only  hope  left  us  ;  the  only  one 
end  for  which  we  have  now  to  try,  is  to  quit  this  settlement 
for  ever,  and  get  back  to  England.  Any  how  !  by  any  means  ! 
Only  to  get  back  there,  Mark." 

"  That's  all,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  with  a  significant 
stress  upon  the  words  :   "  only  that !  " 

"Now,  upon  this  side  of  the  water,"  said  Martin,  "we 
have  but  one  friend  who  can  help  us,  and  that  is  Mr.  Bevan." 

"  I  thought  of  him  when  you  was  ill,"  said  Mark. 

"  But  for  the  time  that  would  be  lost,  I  would  even  write 
to  my  grandfather,"  Martin  went  on  to  say,  "  and  implore  him 
for  money  to  free  us  from  this  trap  into  which  we  were  so 
cruelly  decoyed.     Shall  I  try  Mr.  Bevan  first  ?  " 

"  He's  a  very  pleasant  sort  of  a  gentleman,"  said  Mark. 
"  I  think  so." 

"  The  few  goods  we  brought  here,  and  in  which  we  spent 
our  money,  would  produce  something  if  sold,"  resumed  Mar- 
tin ;  "  and  whatever  they  realize  shall  be  paid  him  instantly. 
But  they  can't  be  sold  here." 

"There's  nobody  but  corpses  to  buy  'em,"  said  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  shaking  his  head  with  a  rueful  air,  "  and  pigs." 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  so,  and  only  ask  him  for  money  enough 
to  enable  us  by  the  cheapest  means  to  reach  New  York,  or 
any  port  from  which  we  may  hope  to  get  a  passage  home,  by 
serving  in  any  capacity  .•*  Explaining  to  him  at  the  same  time 
how  I  am  connected,  and  that  I  will  endeavor  to  repay  him, 
even  through  my  grandfather,  innnediately  on  our  arri\al  in 
England  ?  " 

"  Why  to  be  sure,"  said  Mark  ,  "  he  can  only  say  no,  and 
he  may  say  yes.     If  you  don't  mind  trying  him,  sir — " 


528 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Mind  !  "  exclaimed  Martin.  ''  I  am  to  blame  for  coming 
here,  and  I  would  do  anything  to  get  away.  I  grieve  to  think 
of  the  past.  If  I  had  taken  your  opinion  sooner,  Mark,  we 
never  should  have  been  here,  I  am  certain." 

Mr.  Tapley  was  very  much  surprised  at  this  admission, 
but  protested,  with  great  vehemence,  that  they  would  have 
been  there  all  the  same  ;  and  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon 
coming  to  Eden,  from  the  first  word  he  had  ever  heard  of  it. 

Martin  then  read  him  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bevan,  which  he  had 
already  prepared.  It  was  frankly  and  ingenuously  written, 
and  described  their  situation  without  the  least  concealment ; 
plainly  stated  the  miseries  they  had  undergone  ;  and  preferred 
their  request  in  modest  but  straightforward  tenns.  Mark 
highly  commended  it ;  and  they  determined  to  despatch  it  by 
the  next  steamboat  going  the  right  way,  that  might  call  to 
take  in  wood  at  Eden, — where  there  was  plent}'  of  wood  to 
spare.  Not  knowing  how  to  address  Mr.  Bevan  at  his  own 
place  of  abode,  Martin  superscribed  it  to  the  care  of  the 
memorable  Mr.  Norris  of  New  York,  and  wrote  upon  the  cover 
an  entreaty  that  it  might  be  forwarded  without  delay. 

More  than  a  week  elapsed  before  a  boat  appeared  ;  but  at 
length  they  were  awakened  \&x^  early  one  morning  by  the 
high-pressure  snorting  of  the  "  Esau  Slodge  ; "  named  after 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  country,  who  had  been 
very  eminent  somewhere.  Hurrying  down  to  the  landing- 
place,  they  got  it  safe  on  board  ;  and  waiting  anxiously  to  see 
the  boat  depart,  stopped  up  the  gangway  :  an  instance  of 
neglect  which  caused  the  "  Capting  "  of  the  Esau  Slodge  to 
"  wish  he  might  be  sifted  fine  as  flour,  and  whittled  small  as 
chips  ;  that  if  they  didn't  come  off  that  there  fixing  right  smart 
too,  he'd  spill  'em  in  the  drink  :  "  whereby  the  Capting  meta- 
phorically said  he'd  throw  them  in  the  river. 

They  were  not  likely  to  receive  an  answer  for  eight  or  ten 
weeks  at  the  earliest.  In  the  meantime  they  devoted  such 
strength  as  they  had,  to  the  attempted  improvement  of  their 
land  ;  to  clearing  some  of  it,  and  preparing  it  for  useful  pur- 
poses. Monstrously  defective  as  their  farming  was,  still  it  was 
better  than  their  neighbors'  ;  for  Mark  had  some  practical 
knowledge  of  such  matters,  and  Martin  learned  of  him  ; 
whereas  the  other  settlers  who  remained  upon  the  putrid  swamp 
(a  mere  handful,  and  those  withered  by  disease),  appeared  to 
have  wandered  there  with  the  idea  that  husbandry  was  the 
natural  gift  of  all  mankind.     They  helped  each  other  after 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


529 


their  own  manner  in  these  struggles,  and  in  all  others  ;  but 
they  worked  as  hopelessly  and  sadly  as  a  gang  of  convicts  in 
a  penal  settlement. 

Often  at  night  when  Mark  and  Martin  were  alone,  and 
lying  down  to  sleep,  they  spoke  of  home,  familiar  places, 
houses,  roads,  and  people  whom  they  knew ;  sometimes  in  the 
lively  hope  of  seeing  theni  again,  and  sometimes  with  a  sor- 
rowful tranquillity,  as  if  that  hope  were  dead.  It  was  a  source 
of  great  amazement  to  Mark  Tapley  to  find,  pervading  all 
these  conversations,  a  singular  alteration  in  Martin. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  .of  him,"  he  thought  one 
night,  "  he  ain't  what  I  supposed.  He  don't  think  of  himself 
half  as  much.     Ill  trv  him  again.     Asleep,  sir  }  " 

"  No,  Mark." 

"  Thinking  of  home,  sir  .-'  " 

"Yes,  Mark." 

"  So  was  I,  sir.  I  was  wondering  how  Mr.  Pinch  and  Mr. 
Pecksniff  gets  on  now." 

"  Poor  Tom  !  "  said  Martin,  thoughtfully. 

"Weak-minded  man,  sir,"  observed  Mr.  Tapley.  "Plays 
the  organ  for  nothing,  sir.     Takes  no  care  of  himself  ? " 

"  I  wish  he  took  a  little  more,  indeed,"  said  Martin. 
"Though  I  don't  know  why  I  should.  We  shouldn't  like  him 
half  as  well,  perhaps." 

"  He  gets  put  upon,  sir,"  hinted  Mark. 

"  Yes,"  said  Martin,  after  a  short  silence.  "  /  know  that, 
Mark." 

He  spoke  so  regretfully,  that  his  partner  abandoned  the 
theme,  and  was  silent  for  a  short  time,  until  he  had  thought  of 
another. 

''  Ah,  sir  !  "  said  Mark,  with  a  sigh.  "  Dear  me  !  You've 
ventured  a  good  deal  for  a  young  lady's  love  ! " 

"  I  tell  you  what.  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Mark,"  was  the 
reply  ;  so  hastily  and  energetically  spoken,  that  Martin  sat  up 
in  his  bed  to  give  it.  "  I  begin  to  be  far  from  clear  upon  it. 
You  may  depend  upon  it,  she  is  very  unhappy.  She  has  sac- 
rificed her  peace  of  mind  ;  she  has  endangered  her  interests 
ver}'  much  ;  she  can't  run  away  from  those  who  are  jealous  of 
her,  and  opposed  to  her,  as  I  have  done.  She  has  to  endure, 
Mark :  to  endure  without  the  possibility  of  action,  poor  girl ! 
I  begin  to  think  she  has  more  to  bear  than  ever  I  have  had. 
Upon  my  soul  I  do !  " 

Mr.  Tapley  opened  his  eyes  wide,  in  the  dark  ■  but  did  not 
interrupt.  34 


530  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"And  I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "since we 
are  upon  this  subject.     That  ring — " 

"  Which  ring,  sir !  "  Mark  inquired  :  opening  his  eyes  still 
wider. 

"  That  ring  she  gave  me  when  we  parted,  Mark.  She 
bought  it  ;  bought  it  •  knowing  I  was  poor  and  proud  (Heaven 
help  me  !    Proud  !)  and  wanted  money," 

"  Who  savs  so,  sir  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  I  say  so.  I  know  it.  I  thought  of  it,  my  good  fellow, 
hundreds  of  times,  while  you  were  lying  ill.  And  like  a  beast, 
I  took  it  from  her  hand,  and  wore  it  on  my  own,  and  never 
dreamed  of  this  even  at  the  moment  when  I  parted  with  it, 
when  some  faint  glimmering  of  the  truth  might  surely  have 
possessed  me !  But  it's  late,"  said  Martin,  checking  himself, 
"and  you  are  weak  and  tired,  I  know.  You  only  talk  to  cheer 
me  up.     Good  night!     God  bless  you  Mark  I" 

"  God  bless  you,  sir  !  But  I'm  reg'larly  defrauded,"  thought 
Mr.  Tapley,  turning  round,  with  a  happy  face.  "  It's  a  swindle. 
I  never  entered  for  this  sort  of  service.  There'll  be  no  credit 
in  being  jolly  with  Jiwi  /" 

The  time  wore  on,  and  other  steam  boats  coming  from  the 
point  on  which  their  hopes  were  fixed,  arrived  to  take  in  wood  ; 
but  still  no  answer  to  the  letter.  Rain,  heat,  foul  slime,  and 
noxious  vapor,  with  all  the  ills  and  filthy  things  they  bred, 
prevailed.  The  earth,  the  air,  the  vegetation,  and  the  water 
that  they  drank,  all  teemed  with  deadly  properties.  Their 
fellow-passenger  had  lost  two  children  long  before  ;  and  buried 
now  her  last.  Such  things  are  much  too  common  to  be  widely 
known  or  cared  for.  Smart  citizens  grow  rich,  and  friendless 
victims  smart  and  die,  and  are  forgotten.     That  is  all. 

At  last,  a  boat  came  panting  up  the  ugly  river,  and  stopped 
at  Eden.  Mark  was  waiting  at  the  wood  hut,  when  it  came, 
and  had  a  letter  handed  to  him  from  on  board.  He  bore  it 
off  to  Martin.     They  looked  at  one  another  trembling. 

"  It  feels  heavy,"  faltered  Martin.  And  opening  it,  a  little 
roll  of  dollar-notes  fell  out  upon  the  ground. 

What  either  of  them  said,  or  did,  or  felt,  at  first,  neither  of 
them  knew.  All  Mark  could  ever  tell  was,  that  he  was  at  the 
river's  bank  again  out  of  breath,  before  the  boat  had  gone, 
inquiring  when  it  would  retrace  its  track  and  put  in  there. 

The  answer  was,  in  ten  or  twelve  days  :  notwithstanding 
which,  they  began  to  get  their  goods  together  and  to  tie  them 
up,  that  very  night.    When  this  stage  of  excitement  was  passed, 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


531 


each  of  them  believed  (they  found  this  out,  in  talking  of  it 
afterwards)  that  he  would  surely  die  before  the  boat  returned. 

They  lived,  however,  and  it  came,  after  the  lapse  of  three 
long  crawling  weeks.  At  sunrise,  on  an  autumn  day,  they 
stood  upon  her  deck. 

"Courage  !  We  shall  meet  again!  "  cried  Martin,  waving 
his  hand  to  two  thin  figures  on  the  bank.  "  In  the  Old 
World  !  " 

"  Or  in  the  next  one,"  added  Mark  below  his  breath.  "  I'o 
see  them  standing  side  by  side,  so  quiet,  is  a'most  the  worst 
of  all ! " 

They  looked  at  one  another,  as  the  vessel  moved  away, 
and  then  looked  backward  at  the  spot  from  which  it  hurried 
fast.  The  log-house,  with  the  open  door,  and  drooping  trees 
about  it  ;  the  stagnant  morning  mist,  and  red  sun,  dimly  seen 
beyond  ;  th'e  vapor  rising  up  from  land  and  river  ;  the  quick 
stream  making  the  loathsome  banks  it  washed,  more  flat  and 
dull :  how  often  they  returned  in  dreams  !  How  often  it  was 
happiness  to  wake,  and  find  them  Shadows  that  had  vanished  ! 


CPiAPTER  XXXIV. 


IN    WHICH    THE    TRAVELLERS    MOVE    HOMEV^^ARD,  AND    ENCOUN- 
TER   SOME    DISTINGUISHED     CHARACTERS    UPON    THE    WAY. 

Among  the  passengers  on  board  the  steamboat,  there  was 
a  faint  gentleman  sitting  on  a  low  camp-stool,  with  his  legs  on 
a  high  barrel  of  flour,  as  if  he  were  looking  at  the  prospect 
with  his  ankles  ;  who  attracted  their  attention  speedily. 

He  had  straight  black  hair,  parted  up  the  middle  of  his 
head,  and  hanging  down  upon  his  coat  ;  a  little  fringe  of  hair 
upon  his  chin  ;  wore  no  neckcloth  ;  a  white  hat  ;  a  suit  of 
black,  long  in  the  sleeves,  and  short  in  the  legs  ;  soiled  brown 
stockings,  and  laced  shoes.  His  complexion,  naturally  muddy, 
was  rendered  muddier  by  too  strict  an  economy  of  soap  and 
water  ;  and  the  same  observation  will  apply  to  the  washable 
part  of  his  attire,  which  he  might  have  changed  with  comfort 
to  himself,  and  gratification  to  liis  friends.  He  was  about  five 
and  thirty  ;  was  crushed  and  jammed  up  in  a  heap,  under  the 


532  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

shade  of  a  large  green  cotton  umbrella  \  and  ruminated  over 
his  tobacco-plug  like  a  cow. 

He  was  not  singular,  to  be  sure,  in  these  respects ;  for 
every  gentleman  on  board  appeared  to  have  had  a  difference 
with  his  laundress,  and  to  have  left  off  washing  himself  in 
early  youth.  Every  gentleman,  too,  was  perfectly  stopped  up 
with  tight  plugging,  and  was  dislocated  in  the  greater  part  of 
his  joints.  But  about  this  gentleman  there  was  a  peculiar  air 
of  sagacity  and  wisdom,  which  convinced  Martin  that  he  was 
no  common  character ;  and  this  turned  out  to  be  the  case. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ? "  said  a  voice  in  Martin's  ear. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  said  Martin. 

It  was  a  tall  thin  gentleman  who.  spoke  to  him,  with  a 
carpet-cap  on,  and  a  long  loose  coat  of  green  baize,  orna- 
mented about  the  pockets  with  black  velvet. 

"  You  air  from  Europe,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  said  Martin. 

"You  air  fortunate,  sir." 

Martin  thought  so  too  :  but  he  soon  discovered  that  the 
gentleman  and  he  attached  different  meanings  to  this  remark. 

"  You  air  fortunate,  sir,  in  having  an  opportunity  of  be- 
holding our  Elijah  Pogram,  sir." 

"  Your  Elijahpogram  !  "  said  Martin,  thinking  it  was  all 
one  word,  and  a  building  of  some  sort. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Martin  tried  to  look  as  if  he  understood  him,  but  he 
couldn't  make  it  out. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  repeated  the  gentleman.  "  Our  Elijah  Pogram, 
sir,  is,  at  this  minute,  identically  settin'  by  the  en-gine  biler." 

The  gentleman  under  the  umbrella  put  his  right  foretinger 
to  his  eyebrow,  as  if  he  were  revolving  schemes  of  state. 

"That  is  Elijah  Pogram,  is  it.''"  said  Martin. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  other.     "That  is  Elijah  Pogram." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Martin.  "  I  am  astonished."  But  he 
had  not  the  least  idea  who  this  Elijah  Pogram  was  ;  having 
never  heard  the  name  in  all  his  life. 

"  If  the  biler  of  this  vessel  was  Toe  bust,  sir,"  said  his 
new  acquaintance,  "  and  Toe  bust  now,  this  would  be  a  festi- 
val day  in  the  calendar  of  despotism  ;  pretty  nigh  equallin', 
sir,  in  its  effects  upon  the  human  race,  our  Fourth  of  glorious 
July.  Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram,  Mem- 
ber of  Congress  ;  one  of  the  master-minds  of  our  country,  sir. 
There  is  a  brow,  sir,  there  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  t^2>Z 

"Quite  remarkable,"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Our  own  immortal  Chiggle,  sir,  is  said  to  have 
observed,  when  he  made  the  celebrated  Pogram  statter  in 
marble,  which  rose  so  much  con-test  and  preju-dice  in 
Europe,  that  the  brow  was  more  than  mortal.  This  was 
before  the  Pogram  Defiance,  and  was,  therefore,  a  pre-diction, 
cruel  smart." 

"  What  is  the  Pogram  Defiance  ?  "  asked  Martin  think- 
ing, perhaps,  it  was  the  sign  of  a  public-house. 

"An  o-ration,  sir,"  returned  his  friend. 

"Oh!  to  be  sure,"  cried  Martin.  "What  am  I  thinking 
of !     It  defied—" 

"  It  defied  the  world,  sir,"  said  the  other,  gravely.  "  De- 
fied the  world  in  general  to  com-pete  with  our  country  upon 
any  hook  :  and  devellop'd  our  internal  resources  for  making 
war  upon  the  universal  airth.  You  would  like  to  know  Elijah 
Pogram,  sir  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Martin. 

"  Mr.  Pogram,"  said  the  stranger — Mr.  Pogram  having 
overheard  every  word  of  the  dialogue — "  this  is  a  gentleman 
from  Europe,  sir  ;  from  England,  sir.  But  gen'rous  enemies 
may  meet  upon  the  neutral  sile  of  private  life,  I  think." 

The  languid  Mr.  Pogram  shook  hands  with  Martin,  like  a 
clock-work  figure  that  was  just  running  down.  But  he  made 
amends  by  chewing  like  one  that  was  just  wound  up. 

"  Mr.  Pogram,"  said  the  introducer,  "is  a  public  servant, 
sir.  When  Congress  is  recessed,  he  inakes  himself  acquainted 
with  those  free  United  States,  of  which  he  is  the  gifted  son." 

It  occurred  to  Martin,  that  if  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram 
had  stayed  at  home,  and  sent  his  shoes  upon  a  tour,  they 
would  have  answered  the  same  purpose  ;  for  they  were  the 
only  part  of  him  in  a  situation  to  see  anything. 

In  course  of  time,  howe\er,  Mr.  Pogram  rose  ;  and  having 
ejected  certain  plugging  consequences  which  would  have 
impeded  his  articulation,  took  up  a  position  where  there  was 
something  to  lean  against,  and  began  to  talk  to  Martin  : 
shading  himself  with  the  green  umbrella  all  the  time. 

As  he  began  with  the  words.  "How  do  you  like — .^  " 
Martin  took  him  up  and  said  : 

"  The  country  I  presume  .''  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Elijah  Pogram.  A  knot  of  passengers 
gathered  round  to  hear  what  followed  :  and  Martin  heard  his 
friend  say,  as  he  whispered  to  another  friend,  and  rubbed  his 
hands,  "  Pogram  will  smash  him  into  sky-blue  fits  I  know  !  " 


^34  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Why,"  said  Martin,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  I  have 
learned  by  experience,  that  you  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  a 
stranger,  when  you  ask  that  question.  Vou  don't  mean  it  to 
be  answered,  except  in  one  way.  Now,  1  don't  choose  to 
answer  it  in  that  way,  for  I  cannot  honestly  answer  it  in  that 
way.     And  therefore,  I  would  rather  not  answer  it  at  all." 

But  Mr.  Pogram  was  going  to  make  a  great  speech  in  the 
next  session  about  foreign  relations,  and  was  going  to  write 
strong  articles  on  the  subject  ;  and  as  he  greatly  favored  the 
free  and  independent  custom  (a  very  harmless  and  agreeable 
one)  of  procuring  information  of  any  sort  in  any  kind  of  con- 
fidence, and  afterwards  perverting  it  publicly  in  any  manner 
that  happened  to  suit  him,  he  had  determined  to  get  at  Mar- 
tin's opinions  somehow  or  other.  For,  if  he  could  have  got 
nothing  out  of  him,  he  would  have  had  to  invent  it  for  him, 
and  that  would  have  been  laborious.  He  made  a  mental  note 
of  his  answer,  and  went  in  agam. 

"  You  are  from  Eden,  sir.?     How  did  you  like  Eden  ? ' 

Martin  said  what  he  thought  of  that  part  of  the  country,  in 
pretty  strong  terms. 

"It  is  strange,"  said  Pogram,  looking  round  upon  the 
group,  "  this  hatred  of  our  country,  and  her  Institutions  !  This 
national  antipathy  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  British  mind  !  " 

"  Good  Heaven,  sir,"  cried  Martin.  "  Is  the  Eden  Land 
Corporation,  with  Mr.  Scadder  at  his  head,  and  all  the  misery  it 
has  worked,  at  its  door,  an  Institution  of  America  ?  A  part 
of  any  form  of  government  that  ever  was  known  or  heard  of  .-'  " 

"  I  con-sider  the  cause  of  this  to  be,"  said  Pogram,  looking 
round  again  and  taking  himself  up  where  Martin  had  inter- 
rupted him,  "  partly  jealously  and  prejudice,  and  partly  the 
nat'ral  unfitness  of  the  British  people  to  appreciate  the  ex- 
alted Institutions  of  our  native  land.  I  expect,  sir,"  turning 
to  ]\Iartin  again,  "  that  a  gentleman  named  Chollop  happened 
in  upon  you  during  your  lo-cation  in  the  town  of  Eden  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Martin;  "but  my  friend  can  answer 
this  better  than  I  can,  for  I  was  very  ill  at  the  time.  Mark  ! 
The  gentleman  is  speaking  of  Mr.  Chollop." 

"Oh.     Yes  sir.     Yes.     /see  him,"  observed  Mark. 

"  A  splendid  example  of  our  na-tive  raw  material,  sir  ? " 
said  Pogram,  interrogatively. 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark. 

The  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  glanced  at  his  friends  as 
though  he  would  have  said,  "  Observe  this  !     See  what  fol- 


MA  A'  r/jV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


535 


lows  !  "  and  they  rendered  tribute  to  the  Pogram  genius,  by  a 
gentle  murmur. 

"Our  fellow-countryman  is  a  model  of  a  man,  quite  fresh 
from  Natur's  mould  !  "  said  Pogram,  with  enthusiasm.  "  He 
is  a  true-born  child  of  this  free  hemisphere  !  Verdant  as  the 
mountains  of  our  country  ;  bright  and  tiowing  as  our  mineral 
Licks  \  unspiled  by  withering  conventionalities  as  air  our 
broad  and  boundless  Perearers  I  Rough  he  may  be.  vSo  air 
our  Barrs.  Wild  he  may  be.  So  air  our  Buffalers.  But  he 
is  a  child  of  Natur',  and  a  child  of  Freedom  ;  and  his  boastful 
answer  to  the  Despot  and  the  Tyrant  is,  that  his  bright  home 
is  in  the  Settin  Sun." 

Part  of  this  referred  to  ChoUop,  and  part  to  a  Western 
postmaster,  who,  being  a  public  defaulter  not  very  long  before 
(a  character  not  at  all  uncommon  in  America),  had  been  re- 
moved from  ofhce  ;  and  on  whose  behalf  Mr.  Pogram  (he 
voted  for  Pogram)  had  thundered  the  last  sentence  from  his 
seat  in  Congress,  at  the  head  of  an  unpopular  President.  It 
told  brilliantly  ;  for  the  bystanders  were  delighted,  and  one 
of  them  said  to  Martin,  "that  he  guessed  he  had  now  seen 
something  of  the  eloquential  aspect  of  our  country,  and  was 
chawed  up  pritty  small." 

Mr.  Pogram  waited  until  his  hearers  were  calm  again,  be- 
fore he  said  to  Mark  : 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  coincide,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Mark,  "  I  didn't  like  him  much  ;  and  that's 
the  truth,  sir.  I  thought  he  was  a  bully  ;  and  I  didn't  admire 
his  carryin'  them  murderous  little  persuaders,  and  being  so 
ready  to  use  'em." 

"  It's  singler !  "  said  Pogram,  lifting  his  umbrella  high 
enough  to  look  all  round  from  under  it.  "  It's  strange  !  You 
observe  the  settled  opposition  to  our  Institutions  which  per- 
vades the  British  mind  !  " 

"  What  an  extraordinary  people  you  are  ! "  cried  Martin, 
"  Are  Mr.  Chollop  and  the  class  he  represents,  an  Institution 
here  ?  Are  pistols  with  rexohing  barrels,  sword-sticks,  bowie- 
knives,  and  such  things,  Institutions  on  which  you  pride  your- 
selves ?  Are  bloody  duels,  brutal  combats,  savage  assaults, 
shooting  down  and  stabbing  in  the  streets,  your  Institutions  ! 
Why,  I  shall  hear  next,  that  Dishonor  and  Fraud  are  among 
the  Institutions  of  the  great  republic  !  " 

The  moment  the  words  passed  his  lips,  the  Honorable 
Elijah  Pogram  looked  round  again. 


536 


J]/A A'  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


"This  morbid  hatred  of  our  Institutions,"  he  observed, 
"  is  quite  a  study  for  the  psychological  observer.  He's  alludin 
to  Repudiation  now  !  " 

"  Oh  !  You  may  make  anything  an  Institution  if  you  like," 
said  Martin,  laughing,  "  and  I  confess  you  had  me  there,  for 
you  certainly  have  made  that,  one.  But  the  greater  part  of 
these  things  are  one  Institution  with  us,  and  we  call  it  by  the 
generic  name  of  Old  Bailey  !  " 

The  bell  being  rung  for  dinner  at  this  moment,  everybody 
ran  away  into  the  cabin,  whither  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram 
fled  with  such  precipitation  that  he  forgot  his  umbrella  was  up, 
and  fixed  it  so  tightly  in  the  cabin  door  that  it  could  neither 
be  let  down  nor  got  out.  For  a  minute  or  so  this  accident 
created  a  perfect  rebellion  among  the  hungry  passengers  be- 
hind, who,  seeing  the  dishes,  and  hearing  the  knives  and  forks 
at  work,  well  knew  what  would  happen  unless  they  got  there 
instantly,  and  were  nearly  mad  ;  while  several  virtuous  citizens 
at  the  table  were  in  deadly  peril  of  choking  themselves  in 
their  unnatural  efforts  to  get  rid  of  all  the  meat  before  these 
others  came. 

They  carried  the  umbrella  by  storm,  however,  and  rushed 
in  at  the  breach.  The  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  and  Martin 
found  themselves,  after  a  severe  struggle,  side  by  side,  as  they 
might  have  come  together  in  the  pit  of  a  London  theatre  ;  and 
for  four  whole  minutes  afterwards,  Pogram  was  snapping  up 
great  blocks  of  everything  he  could  get  hold  of,  like  a  raven. 
When  he  had  taken  this  unusually  protracted  dinner,  he  began 
to  talk  to  Martin  ;  and  begged  him  not  to  have  the  least  deli- 
cacy in  speaking  with  perfect  freedom  to  him,  for  he  was  a 
calm  philosopher.  Which  Martin  was  extremely  glad  to  hear  ; 
for  he  had  begun  to  speculate  on  Elijah  being  a  disciple  of 
that  other  school  of  republican  philosophy,  whose  noble  senti- 
ments are  carved  with  knives  upon  a  pupil  s  body,  and  written, 
not  with  pen  and  ink,  but  tar  and  feathers. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  countrymen  who  are  present, 
sir  .''  "  inquired  Elijah  Pogram. 

"Oh  !  very  pleasant,"  said  Martin. 

They  were  a  very  pleasant  party.  No  man  had  spoken  a 
word ;  every  one  had  been  intent,  as  usual,  on  his  own  private 
gorging  ;  and  the  greater  part  of  the  company  were  decidedly 
dirty  feeders. 

The  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  looked  at  Martin  as  if  he 
thought  "'You  don't  mean  that,  I  know!  "  and  he  was  soon 
confirmed  in  this  opinion. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLFAITT. 


537 


Sitting  opposite  to  them  was  a  gentleman  in  a  high  state 
of  tobacco,  who  wore  quite  a  Httle  beard,  coniposed  of  the 
overtiowings  of  that  weed,  as  they  had  dried  about  his  moutli 
and  chin  ;  so  common  an  ornament  that  it  would  scarcely 
have  attracted  Martin's  observation,  but  that  this  good  citizen, 
burning  to  assert  his  equality  against  all  comers,  sucked  his 
knife  for  some  moments,  and  made  a  cut  with  it  at  the  butter, 
just  as  Martin  was  in  the  act  of  taking  some.  There  was  a 
juiciness  about  the  deed  that  might  have  sickened  a  scavenger. 

"  When  Elijah  Pogram  (to  whom  this  was  an  every-day 
incident)  saw  that  Martin  put  the  plate  away,  and  took  no 
butter,  he  was  quite  delighted,  and  said, 

"  Well  !  The  morbid  hatred  of  you  British  to  the  Institu- 
tions of  our  country  is  as-TONishing !  " 

"  Upon  my  life  !  "  cried  Martin,  in  his  turn.  "  This  is  the 
most  wonderful  community  that  ever  existed.  A  man  deliber- 
ately makes  a  hog  of  himself,  and  that's  an  Institution  !  " 

"We  have  no  time  to  acquire  forms,  sir,"  said  Elijah 
Pogram. 

"  Acquire  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  But  it's  not  a  question  of  ac- 
quiring anything.  It's  a  question  of  losing  the  natural  polite- 
ness of  a  savage,  and  that  instinctive  good-breeding  which 
admonishes  one  man  not  to  offend  and  disgust  another. 
Don't  you  think  that  man  over  the  way,  for  instance,  naturally 
knows  better,  but  considers  it  a  very  fine  and  independent 
thing  to  be  a  brute  in  small  matters  ? " 

"  He  is  a  na-tive  of  our  country,  and  is  nat-rally  bright  and 
spry,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pogram. 

"  Now,  observe  what  this  comes  to,  Mr.  Pogram,"  pursued 
Martin.  "The  mass  of  your  countrymen  begin  by  stubbornly 
neglecting  little  social  observances,  which  have  nothing  to  do 
with  gentility,  custom,  usage,  government,  or  country,  but  are 
acts  of  common,  decent,  natural,  human  politeness.  You  abet 
them  in  this,  by  resenting  all  attacks  upon  their  social  offences 
as  if  they  were  a  beautiful  national  feature.  Erom  disregard- 
ing small  obligations  they  come  in  regular  course  to  disregard 
great  ones  ;  and  so  refuse  to  pay  their  debts.  What  they  may 
do,  or  what  they  may  refuse  to  do  next,  I  don't  know  ;  but 
any  man  may  see  if  he  will,  that  it  will  be  something  following 
in  natural  succession,  and  a  part  of  one  great  growth,  which  is 
rotten  at  the  root." 

The  mind  of  Mr.  Pogram  was  too  philosophical  to  see 
this  ;  so  they  went  on  deck  again,  where,  resuming  his  former 


538 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


post,  he  chewed  until  he  was  in  a  lethargic  state,  amounting  to 
insensibility. 

After  a  wear}-  voyage  of  several  days,  they  came  again  to 
that  same  wharf  where  Mark  had  been  so  nearly  left  behind, 
on  the  night  of  starting  for  Eden.  Captain  Kedgick,  the  land- 
lord, was  standing  there,  and  was  greatly  surprised  to  see  them 
coming  from  the  boat. 

"  Why,  what  the  'tarnal  !  "  cried  the  Captain.  "  Well !  I 
do  admire  at  this,  I  do  !  " 

"We  can  stay  at  your  house  until  to-morrow,  Captain,  I 
suppose  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  I  reckon  you  can  stay  there  for  a  twelvemonth  if  you 
like,"  retorted  Kedgick  coolly.  "But  our  people  won't  best 
like  your  coming  back." 

"  Won't  like" it.  Captain  Kedgick  !  "  said  Martin. 
"They  did  ex-pect  you  was   a-going  to   settle,"  Kedgick 
answered,  as  he  shook  his  head.    "  They've  been  took  in,  you 
can't  deny  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Martin. 
"  You  didn't  ought  to  have  received  'em,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain.    "  No,  you  didn't  !  " 

"My  good  friend,"  returned  Martin,  "did  I  want  to  re- 
ceive them  ?  Was  it  any  act  of  mine  ?  Didn't  you  tell  me 
they  would  rile  up,  and  that  I  should  be  flayed  like  a  wild  cat 
— and  threaten  all  kinds  of  vengeance,  if  I  didn't  receive 
them  ? " 

"  1  don't  know  about  that,"  returned  the  Captain.  "  But 
when  our  people's  frills  is  out,  they're  starched  up  pretty  stiff, 
I  tell  you  !  " 

With  that  he  fell  into  the  rear  to  walk  with  Mark,  while 
Martin  and  Elijah  Pogram  went  on  to  the  National. 
"  We've  come  back  alive,  you  see  !  "  said  Mark. 
"  It  ain't  the  thing  I  did  expect,"  the  Captain  grumbled, 
"  A  man  ain't  got  no  right  to  be  a  public  man,  unless  he 
meets  the  public  views.  Our  fashionable  people  wouldn't 
have  attended  his  le-vee,  if  they  had  know'd  it." 

Nothing  mollified  the  Captain,  who  persisted  in  taking  it 
very  ill  that  they  had  not  both  died  in  Eden.  The  boarders 
at  the  National  felt  strongly  on  the  subject  too  ;  but  it  hap- 
pened by  good  fortune  that  they  had  not  much  time  to 
think  about  this  grievance,  for  it  was  suddenly  determined  to 
pounce  upon  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram,  and  give  him  a 
le-vee  forthwith. 


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MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  53c; 

As  the  general  eveninp;  meal  of  the  house  was  over  before  the 
arrival  of  the  boat,  Martin,  Mark,  and  Pogram,  were  taking  tea 
and  fixings  at  the  public  table  hy  themselves,  when  the  depu- 
tation entered,  to  announce  this  honor,  consisting  of  six 
gentlemen  boarders,  and  a  very  shrill  boy. 

"  Sir  !  "  said  the  spokesman. 

"  Mr.  Pogram  ! "  cried  the  shrill  boy. 

The  spokesman  thus  reminded  of  the  shrill  boy's  presence, 
introduced  him.  "  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle,  sir.  A  gentleman 
of  great  poetical  elements.  He  has  recently  jined  us  here, 
sir,  and  is  an  acquisition  to  us,  sir,  I  do  assure  you.  Yes,  sir. 
Mr.  Jodd,  sir.     Mr.  Izzard,  sir.     Mr.  Julius  Bib,  sir." 

"  Julius  Washington  Merryweather  Bib,"  said  the  gentle- 
man himself  to  himself. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Excuse  me.  ]\Ir.  Julius  Wash- 
ington Merryweather  Bib,  sir ;  a  gentleman  in  the  lumber 
line,  sir,  and  much  esteemed.  Colonel  Groper,  sir.  Pro-fes- 
sor  Piper,  sir.     My  own  name,  sir,  is  Oscar  Buffum." 

Each  man  took  one  slide  forward  as  he  was  named  ;  but- 
ted at  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  with  his  head  ;  shook 
hands,  and  slid  back  again.  The  introductions  being  com- 
pleted, the  spokesman  resumed. 

"Sir!" 

"  Mr.  Pogram  !  "  cried  the  shrill  boy. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  spokesman,  with  a  hopeless  look,  you 
will  be  so  good.  Dr.  Ginery  Dunkle,  as  to  charge  yourself  with 
the  execution  of  our  little  ofihce,  sir  ?  " 

As  there  was  nothing  the  shrill  boy  desired  more,  he  im- 
mediately stepped  forward. 

"  Mr.  Pogram  !    Sir  !     A  handful   Of  your  fellow-citizens, 
sir,  hearing  Of  your  arrival  at  the  National  Hotel,  and  feeling, 
the   patriotic  character   Of  your  public  services,  wish,  sir,  to 
have  the  gratification  Of  beholding  you,  and  mixing  with  you 
sir  ;  and  unbending  with  you,  sir,  in  those  moments  which — " 

"  Air,"  suggested  Buffum. 

"Which  air  so  peculiarly  the  lot,  sir.  Of  our  great  and 
happy  country." 

"  Hear  !  "  cried  Colonel  Groper,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Good  ! 
Hear  him  !     Good  !  " 

"And  therefore,  sir,"  pursued  the  Doctor,  "they  request, 
as  A  mark  of  their  respect,  the  honor  of  your  company  at  a 
little  le-Vee,  sir,  in  the  ladies'  ordinary,  at  eight  o'clock." 

Mr.  Pogram  bowed,  and  said  : 


2^0  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Fellow-countrymen  !  " 

"  Good  !  "  cried  the  Colonel.     "  Hear  him  !     Good  ! ' 

Mr.  Pogram  bowed  to  the  Colonel  individually,  and  then 
resumed  : 

"  Your  approbation  of  My  labors  in  the  common  cause, 
goes  to  My  heart.  At  all  times  and  in  all  places  ;  in  the  la- 
dies' ordinary,  My  friends,  and  in  the  Battle  Field — " 

"  Good,  very  good  !  Hear  him  !  Hear  him  ! "  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  The  name  Of  Pogram  will  be  proud  to  jine  you.  And 
mav  it.  My  friends,  be  written  on  My  tomb,  '  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Con-gress  of  our  common  country,  and  was  ac-Tive 
in  his  trust.'  " 

"The  Com-mittee,  sir,"  said  the  shrill  boy,  "  will  wait  upon 
you  at  five  minutes  afore  eight.     I  take  My  leave,  sir  !  " 

Mr.  Pogram  shook  hands  with  him,  and  everybody  else, 
once  more  ;  and  when  they  came  back  again  at  five  minutes 
before  eight,  they  said,  one  by  one,  in  a  melancholy  voice, 
"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  and  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Pogram 
all  over  again,  as  if  he  had  been  abroad  for  a  twelvemonth  in 
the  meantime,  and  they  met,  now,  at  a  funeral. 

But,  by  this  time  Mr.  Pogram  had  freshened  himself  up, 
and  had  composed  his  hair  and  features  after  the  Pogram 
statue,  so  that  any  one  with  half  an  e\'e  might  cry  out, 
"  There  he  is  !  as  he  delivered  the  Defiance  .-"  "  The  Com- 
mittee were  embellished  also ;  and  when  they  entered  the 
ladies'  ordniary  in  a  body,  there  was  much  clapping  of  hands 
from  ladies  and  gentlemen,  accompanied  by  cries  of  "  Pogram  ! 
Pogram  !  "  and  some  standing  up  on  chairs  to  see  him. 

The  object  of  the  popular  caress  looked  round  the  room 
as  he  walked  up  it,  and  smiled  ;  at  the  same  time  observing 
to  the  shrill  boy,  that  he  knew  something  of  the  beauty  of  the 
daughters  of  their  common  country,  but  had  never  seen  it  in 
such  lustre  and  perfection  as  at  that  moment.  Which  the 
shrill  boy  put  in  the  paper  next  day  ;  to  Elijah  Pogram's 
great  surprise. 

"  We  will  re-quest  you,  sir,  if  you  please,"  said  Buffum, 
laying  hands  on  Mr.  Pogram  as  if  he  were  taking  his  measure 
for  a  coat,  "  to  stand  up  with  your  back  agin  the  wall  right  in 
the  furthest  corner,  that  there  may  be  more  room  for  our  fel- 
low-cit-izens.  If  you  could  set  your  back  right  slap  agin  that 
curtain-peg,  sir,  keeping  your  left  leg  everlastingly  behind  the 
stove,  we  should  be  fixed  quite  slick." 


MAR  TIN  C MUZZLE  IVIT^  ^  4 1 

Mr.  Pogram  did  as  he  was  told,  and  wedged  himself  into 
such  a  little  corner,  that  the  Pogram  statue  wouldn't  have 
known  him. 

The  entertainments  of  the  evening  then  began.  Gentle- 
men brought  ladies  up,  and  brought  themselves  up,  and 
brought  each  other  up  ;  and  asked  Elijah  Pogram  what  he 
thought  of  this  political  question,  and  what  he  thought  of 
that  ;  and  looked  at  him,  and  looked  at  one  another,  and 
seemed  very  unhappy  indeed.  The  ladies  on  the  chairs 
looked  at  Elijah  Pogram  through  their  glasses,  and  said  audi- 
bly, "  I  wish  he'd  speak.  Why  don't  he  speak.  Oh,  do  ask 
him  to  speak  !  "  And  Elijah  Pogram  looked  sometimes  at 
the  ladies  and  sometimes  elsewhere,  delivering  senatorial 
opinions,  as  he  was  asked  for  them.  But  the  great  end  and 
object  of  the  meeting  seemed  to  be,  not  to  let  Elijah  Pogram 
out  of  the  corner  on  any  account  :  so  there  they  kept  him, 
hard  and  fast. 

A  great  bustle  at  the  door,  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 
announced  the  arrival  of  some  remarkable  person  ;  and  im- 
mediately afterwards  an  elderly  gentleman,  much  excited,  was 
seen  to  precipitate  himself  upon  the  crowd,  and  battle  his 
way  towards  the  Monorable  Elijah  Pogram.  Martin,  who  had 
found  a  snug  place  of  observation  in  a  distant  corner,  where 
he  stood  with  Mark  beside  him  (for  he  did  not  so  often  forget 
him  now  as  formerly,  though  he  still  did  sometimes),  thought 
he  knew  this  g-entleman,  but  had  no  doubt  of  it,  when  he  cried 
as  loud  as  he  could,  with  his  eyes  starting  out  of  his  head  : 

"  Sir,  Mrs.  Hominy  !  " 

"Lord  bless  that  woman,  Mark.  She  has  turned  up 
again  !  " 

"Here  she  comes,  sir."  answered  Mr.  Tapley.  "Pogram 
knows  her.  A  public  character  !  Always  got  her  eye  upon 
her  country,  sir  !  If  that  there  lady's  husband  is  of  my  opin- 
ion, what  a  jolly  old  gentleman  he  nmst  be  !  " 

A  lane  was  made,  and  Mrs.  Hominy,  with  the  aristocratic 
stock,  the  pocket  handkerchief,  the  clasped  hands,  and  the 
classical  cap,  came  slowly  up  it,  in  a  procession  of  one.  Mr. 
Pogram  testified  emotions  of  delight  on  seeing  her,  and  a 
general  hush  prevailed.  For  it  was  known  that  when  a  woman 
like  Mrs.  Hominy  encountered  a  man  like  Pogram,  something 
interesting  must  be  said. 

Their  first  salutations  were  exchanged  in  a  voice  too  low 
to  reach  the  impatient  ears  of  the  throng  \  but  they  soon  be- 


5 42  'MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT. 

came  audible,  for  Mrs.  Hominy  felt  her  position,  and  knew 
what  was  expected  of  her. 

Mrs.  H.  was  hard  upon  him  at  first,  and  put  him  through 
a  rigid  catechism  in  reference  to  a  certain  vote  he  had  given, 
which  she  had  found  it  necessar\',  as  the  mother  of  the  modern 
Gracchi,  to  deprecate  in  a  line  by  itself,  set  up  expressly  for 
the  purpose  in  German  text.  But  Mr.  Pogram  evading  it  by 
a  well-timed  allusion  to  the  star-spangled  banner,  which,  it 
appeared,  had  the  remarkable  peculiarity  of  flouting  the 
breeze  whenever  it  was  hoisted  where  the  wind  blew,  she 
forgave  him.  They  now  enlarged  on  certain  questions  of 
tariff,  commercial  treaty,  boundary,  importation  and  exporta- 
tion, with  great  effect.  And  Mrs.  Hominy  not  only  talked, 
as  the  saying  is,  like  a  book,  but  actually  did  talk  her  own 
books,  word  for  word. 

"  My !  what  is  this  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Hominy,  opening  a  little 
note  which  was  handed  her  by  her  excited  gentleman-usher, 
"  Do  tell  !  oh,  well,  now  !  on'y  think !  " 

And  then  she  read  aloud,  as  follows  : 

"  Two  literary  ladies  present  their  compliments  to  the 
mother  of  the  modern  Gracchi  and  claim  her  kind  introduc- 
tion, as  their  talented  countrywoman,  to  the  honorable  (and 
distinguished)  Elijah  Pogram,  whom  the  two  L.  L.'s  have 
often  contemplated  in  the  speaking  marble  of  the  soul-subdu- 
ing Chiggle.  On  a  verbal  intimation  from  the  mother  of  the 
M.G.,  that  she  will  comply  with  the  request  of  the  two  L.  L.'s, 
they  will  have  the  immediate  pleasure  of  joining  the  galaxy 
assembled  to  do  honor  to  the  patriotic  conduct  of  a  Pogram. 
It  may  be  another  bond  of  union  between  the  two  L.  L.'s  and 
the  mother  of  the  M.  G.  to  observe,  that  the  two  L.  L.'s  are 
Transcendental." 

Mrs.  Hominy  promptly  rose,  and  proceeded  to  the  door, 
whence  she  returned,  after  a  short  interval,  with  the  two  L.  L.'s, 
whom  she  led,  through  the  lane  in  the  crowd,  with  all  that  state- 
liness  of  deportment  which  was  so  remarkably  her  own,  up  to 
the  great  Elijah  Pogram.  It  was  (as  the  shrill  boy  cried 
out  in  an  ecstasy)  quite  the  Last  Scene  from  Coriolanus. 

One  of  the  L.  L.'s  wore  a  brown  wig  of  uncommon  size. 
Sticking  on  the  forehead  of  the  other,  by  invisible  means, 
was  a  massi\'e  cameo,  in  size  and  shape  like  the  raspberrv'  tart 
which  is  ordinarily  sold  for  a  penny,  representing  on  its 
front  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 

"  Miss  Toppit,  and  Miss  Codger  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hominy. 


MARTTN  CHUZZLEWIT.  ^43 

"  Codger's  the  lady  so  often  mentioned  in  the  EngUsh 
newspapers,  I  should  think,  sir,"  whispered  Mark.  '"  The 
oldest  inhabitant  as  never  remembers  anything." 

"  I'o  be  presented  to  a  Pogram,"  said  Miss  Codger,  "by 
a  Hominy,  indeed,  a  thrilling  moment  is  it  in  its  impressive- 
ness  on  what  we  call  our  feelings.  But  why  we  call  them  so, 
or  why  impressed  they  are,  or  if  impressed  they  are  at  all,  or 
if  at  all  we  are,  or  if  there  really  is,  oh  gasping  one  !  a  Pogram 
or  a  Hominy,  or  any  active  principle  to  which  we  give  those 
titles,  is  a  topic.  Spirit  searching,  light  abandoned,  much  too 
vast  to  enter  on,  at  this  unlooked-for  crisis." 

"Mind  and  matter,"  said  the  lady  in  the  wig,  "glide 
swift  into  the  vortex  of  immensity.  Howls  the  sublime,  and 
softly  sleeps  the  calm  Ideal,  in  the  whispering  chambers  of 
Imagination.  To  hear  it,  sweet  it  is.  But  then,  outlaughs 
the  stern  philosopher,  and  saith  to  the  Grotesque,  '  What  ho  ! 
arrest  for  me  that  Agency.  Go,  bring  it  here  !  '  And  so  the 
vision  fadeth." 

After  this,  they  both  took  Mr.  Pogram  by  the  hand,  and 
pressed  it  to  their  lips,  as  a  patriotic  palm.  That  homage 
paid,  the  mother  of  the  modern  Gracchi  called  for  chairs,  and 
the  three  literary  ladies  went  to  work  in  earnest,  to  bring 
poor  Pogram  out,  and  make  him  show  himself  in  all  his  bril- 
liant colors. 

How  Pogram  got  out  of  his  depth  instantly,  and  how  the 
L.  L.'s  were  never  in  theirs,  is  a  piece  of  history  not  worth  re- 
cording. Suffice  it,  that  being  all  four  out  of  their  depths, 
and  all  unable  to  swim,  they  splashed  upwards  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  floundered  about  famously.  On  the  whole,  it  was 
considered  to  have  been  the  severest  mental  exercise  ever 
heard  in  the  National  Hotel.  Tears  stood  in  the  shrill  boy's 
eyes  several  times  ;  and  the  whole  company  observed  that 
their  heads  ached  with  the  effort — as  well  they  might. 

When  it  at  last  became  necessary  to  release  f^lijah  Pogram 
from  the  corner,  and  the  committee  saw  him  safely  back  again 
to  the  next  room,  they  were  fervent  in  their  admiration. 

"  Which,"  said  Mr.  Buffum,  "  must  have  vent,  or  it  will  bust. 
Toe  you,  Mr.  Pogram,  I  am  grateful.  Toe-wards  you,  sir,  I 
am  inspired  with  lofty  veneration,  and  with  deep  e-mo-tion. 
The  sentiment  Toe  which  I  would  propose  to  give  ex-pression, 
sir,  is  this  :  '  May  you  ever  be  as  firm,  sir,  as  your  marble  stat- 
ter !    May  it  ever  be  as  great  a  terror  Toe  its  enemies  as  you.'  " 

There  is  some  reason  to  suppose  that  it  was  rather  terrible 


544 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


to  its  friends ;  being  a  statue  of  the  Elevated  or  Goblin 
School,  in  which  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  was  represented 
as  in  very  high  wind,  with  his  hair  all  standing  on  end,  and 
his  nostrils  blown  wide  open.  But  Mr.  Pogram  thanked  his 
friend  and  countryman  for  the  aspiration  to  which  he  had 
given  utterance,  and  the  Committee,  after  another  solemn 
shaking  of  hands,  retired  to  bed,  except  the  doctor,  who  imme- 
diately repaired  to  the  newspaper-office,  and  there  wrote  a  short 
poem  suggested  by  the  events  of  the  evening,  beginning  with 
fourteen  stars,  and  headed,  "  A  Fragment.  Suggested  by  wit- 
nessing the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  engaged  in  a  philo- 
sophical disputation  with  three  of  Columbia's  fairest  daugh- 
ters.    By  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle.     Of  Troy." 

If  Pogram  was  as  glad  to  get  to  bed  as  Martin  was,  he 
must  have  been  well  rewarded  for  his  labors.  They  started 
off  again  next  day  (Martin  and  Mark  previously  disposing  of 
their  goods  to  the  storekeepers  of  whom  they  had  purchased 
them  for  anything  they  would  bring),  and  were  fellow-trav- 
ellers to  within  a  short  distance  of  New  York.  When  Pogram 
was  about  to  leave  them  he  grew  thoughtful,  and  after  ponder- 
ing for  some  time,  took  Martin  aside. 

"  We  air  all  going  to  part,  sir,"  said  Pogram. 

"  Pray  don't  distress  yourself,"  said  Martin  ;  "  we  must 
bear  it." 

"  It  ain't  that,  sir,"  returned  Pogram,  "  not  at  all.  But  I 
should  wish  you  to  accept  a  copy  of  My  oration," 

"Thank  you,"  said  Martin,  "you  are  very  good,  I  shall 
be  most  happy." 

"  It  ain't  quite  that,  sir,  neither,"  resumed  Pogram  :  "  air 
you  bold  enough  to  introduce  a  copy  into  your  country'  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Martin.     "  Why  not  t  " 

"  It's  sentiments  air  strong,  sir,"  hinted  Pogram,  darkly, 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Martin.  "  I'll  take  a 
dozen  if  you  like." 

"  No  sir,"  reported  Pogram.  "Not  A  dozen.  That  is 
more  than  I  require.  If  you  are  content  to  run  the  hazard, 
sir,  here  is  one  for  your  Lord  Chancellor,"  producing  it,  "and 
one  for  Your  principal  Secretar}-  of  State.  I  should  wish 
them  to  see  it,  sir,  as  expressing  what  my  opinions  air.  That 
they  may  not  plead  ignorance  at  a  future  time.  But  don't 
get  into  danger,  sir,  on  my  account !  " 

"  There  is  not  the  least  danger,  I  assure  you,"  said  Martin. 
So  he  put  the  pamphlets  in  his  pocket,  and  they  parted. 


MART/A'  CHUZZLEWIT.  545 

Mr.  Bevan  had  written  in  Iiis  letter  that,  at  a  certain  time, 
which  fell  out  happily  just  then,  he  would  be  at  a  certain  hotel 
in  the  city,  anxiously  expecting  to  see  them.  To  this  place 
they  repaired  without  a  moment's  delay.  They  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  finding  him  within  ;  and  of  being  received,  by 
their  good  friend,  with  his  own  warmth  and  heartiness. 

''  I  am  truly  sorry  and  ashamed,"  said  Martin,  "  to  have 
begged  of  you.  But  look  at  us.  See  what  we  are,  and  judge 
to  what  we  are  reduced  !  " 

"So  far  from  claiming  to  have  done  you  any  service,"  re- 
turned the  other,  "  I  reproach  myself  with  having  been,  un- 
wittingly, the  original  cause  of  your  misfortunes.  I  no  more 
supposed  you  would  go  to  Eden  on  such  representation  as 
you  received  ;  or,  indeed,  that  you  would  do  anything  but  be 
dispossessed,  by  the  readiest  means,  of  your  idea  that  for- 
tunes were  so  'easily  made  here,  than  I  thought  of  going  to 
Eden  myself." 

"  The  fact  is,  I  closed  with  the  thing  in  a  mad  and  san- 
guine manner,"  said  Martin,  "and  the  less  said  about  it  the 
better  for  me.     Mark,  here,  hadn't  a  \'oice  in  the  matter." 

"Well!  But  he  hadn't  a  voice  in  any  other  matter,  had 
he  ? "  returned  Mr.  Bevan,  laughing  with  an  air  that  showed 
his  understanding  of  Mark  and  Martin  too. 

"  Not  a  very  powerful  one,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martin  with 
a  blush.  "  But  live  and  learn,  Mr.  Bevan  !  Nearly  die  and 
learn  :  and  we  learn  the  quicker." 

"  Now,"  said  their  friend,  "  about  your  plans.  You  mean 
to  return  home  at  once  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  think  so,"  returned  Martin  hastily,  for  he  turned 
pale  at  the  thought  of  any  other  suggestion.  "  That  is  your 
opinion  too,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Unquestionably.  For  I  don't  know  why  you  ever  came 
here  ;  though  it's  not  such  an  unusual  case,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
that  we  need  go  any  farther  into  that.  You  don't  know  that 
the  ship  in  which  you  came  over,  with  our  friend  General 
Fladdock,  is  in  port,  of  course  .''  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  Yes.     And  is  advertised  to  sail  to-morrow." 

This  was  tempting  news,  but  tantalizing  too,  for  Martin 
knew  that  his  getting  any  employment  on  board  a  ship  of  that 
class  was  hopeless.  The  money  in  liis  pocket  would  not  pay 
one-fourth  of  the  sum  he  had  alreadv  borrowed,  and  if  it  had 
been  enough  for  their  passage-money,  he  could  hardly  have 

35 


5  46  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

resolved  to  spend  it.  He  explained  this  to  Mr.  Bevan,  and 
stated  what  their  project  was. 

"  Why,  that's  as  wild  as  Eden  every  bit,"  returned  his  friend. 
"  You  must  take  your  passage  like  a  Christian ;  at  least,  as 
like  a  Christian  as  a  fore-cabin  passenger  can  ;  and  owe  me 
a  few  more  dollars  than  you  intend.  If  Mark  will  go  down  to 
the  ship  and  see  what  passengers  there  are,  and  finds  that  you 
can  go  in  her,  without  being  actually  suffocated,  my  advice  is, 
go !  You  and  I  will  look  about  us  in  the  meantime  (we  won't 
call  at  the  Norris's  unless  you  like),  and  we  will  all  three  dine 
together  in  the  afteraoon." 

Martin  had  nothing  to  express  but  gratitude,  and  so  it  was 
arranged.  But  he  went  out  of  the  room  after  Mark,  and  ad- 
vised him  to  take  their  passage  in  the  Screw,  though  they  lay 
upon  the  bare  deck,  which  Mr.  Tapley,  who  needed  no  en- 
treaty on  the  subject,  readily  promised  to  do. 

When  he  and  Martin  met  again,  and  were  alone,  he  was 
in  high  spirits,  and  evidently  had  something  to  communicate, 
in  which  he  gloried  very  much. 

"  I've  done  Mr.  Bevan,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  Done  Mr.  Bevan  !  "  repeated  Martin. 

"  The  cook  of  the  Screw  went  and  got  married  yesterday, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

Martin  looked  at  him  for  farther  explanation. 

"  And  when  I  got  on  board,  and  the  word  was  passed  that 
it  was  me,"  said  Mark,  "  the  mate  he  comes  and  asks  me 
whether  I'd  engage  to  take  this  said  cook's  place  upon  the 
passage  home.  '  For  you're  used  to  it,'  he  says,  '  you  were 
always  a  cooking  for  everybody  on  your  passage  out.'  And  so 
I  was,"  said  Mark,  "although  I  never  cooked  before,  I'll  take 
my  oath." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  demanded  Martin, 

"Say!"  cried  Mark.  "That  I'd  take  anything  I  could 
get.  '  If  that's  so,'  says  the  mate,  '  why,  bring  a  glass  of  rum  ; ' 
which  they  brought  according.  And  my  wages,  sir,"  said 
Mark  in  high  glee  "  pays  your  passage  ;  and  I've  put  the  roll- 
ing-pin in  your  berth  to  take  it  (it's  the  easy  one  up  in  the 
corner)  ;  and  there  we  are.  Rule  Britannia,  and  Britons  strike 
home ! " 

"  There  never  was  such  a  good  fellow  as  you  are  !  "  cried 
Martin,  seizing  him  by  the  hand.  "  But  what  do  you  mean 
by  '  doing  '  Mr.  Bevan,  Mark  >.  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  see,"  said,  Mark.     "We  don't  tell  him, 


MAR  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT.  547 

you  know.  We  take  his  money,  but  we  don't  spend  it,  and 
we  don't  keep  it.  What  we  do  is,  write  him  a  Httle  note,  ex- 
plaining this  engagement,  and  roll  it  up,  and  leave  it  at  the 
bar,  to  be  given  to  him  after  we  are  gone.     Don't  you  see  ?  " 

Martin's  delight  in  this  idea  was  not  inferior  to  Mark's. 
It  was  all  done  as  he  proposed.  They  passed  a  cheerful 
evening,  slept  at  the  hotel,  left  the  letter  as  arranged,  and 
went  off  to  the  ship  betimes  next  morning,  with  such  light 
hearts,  as  the  weight  of  their  past  miseries  engendered. 

"  Good-by  !  a  hundred  thousand  times  good-by  !  "  said 
Martin  to  their  friend.  "  How  shall  I  remember  all  your  kind- 
ness !     How  shall  I  ever  thank  you  !  " 

"  If  you  ever  become  a  rich  man,  or  a  powerful  one,"  re- 
turned his  friend,  "  you  shall  tiy  to  make  your  Government 
more  careful  of  its  subjects  when  they  roam  abroad  to  live. 
Tell  it  what  you  know  of  emigration  in  your  own  case,  and 
impress  upon  it  how  much  suffering  may  be  prevented  with  a 
little  pains  !  " 

Cheerily  lads,  cheerily  !  Anchor  weighed.  Ship  in  full 
sail.  Her  sturdy  bowsprit  pointed  true  to  England.  America 
a  cloud  upon  the  sea  behind  them  ! 

"  Why,  Cook  ?  what  are  you  thinking  of  so  steadily?  "  said 
Martin. 

"  Why,  I  was  a  thinking,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  that  if  I  was 
a  painter  and  was  called  upon  to  paint  the  American  Eagle, 
how  should  I  do  it  .■'  " 

"  Paint  it  as  like  an  Eagle  as  you  could,  I  suppose." 

"No,"  said  Mark.  "That  wouldn't  do  for  me,  sir.  I 
should  want  to  draw  it  like  a  Bat,  for  its  short-sightedness  ; 
like  a  Bantam,  for  its  bragging  ;  like  a  Magpie,  for  its  , hon- 
esty ;  like  a  Peacock,  for  its  vanity  ;  like  an  Ostrich,  for  its 
putting  its  head  in  the  mud,  and  thinking  nobody  sees  it — "' 

"  And  like  a  Phoenix,  for  its  power  of  springing  from  the 
ashes  of  its  faults  and  vices,  and  soaring  up  anew  into  the 
sky  !  "  said  Martin.     "  Well,  Mark.     Let  us  hope  so." 


548 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


\  CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ARRIVING  IN  ENGLAND,  MARTIN  WITNESSES  A  CEREMONY,  FROM 
WHICH  HE  DERIVES  THE  CHEERING  INFORMATION  THAT  HE 
HAS  NOT  BEEN   FORGOTTEN  IN  HIS  ABSENCE. 

It  was  mid-day,  and  high  water  in  the  English  port  for 
which  the  Screw  was  bound,  when,  borne  in  gallantly  upon  the 
fullness  of  the  tide,  she  let  go  her  anchor  in  the  river. 

Bright  as  the  scene  was  ;  fresh,  and  full  of  motion  ;  air}', 
free,  and  sparkling ;  it  was  nothing  to  the  life  and  exultation 
in  the  breasts  of  the  two  travellers,  at  sight  of  the  old 
churches,  roofs,  and  darkened  chimney  stacks  of  Home.  The 
distant  roar,  that  swelled  up  hoarsely  from  the  busy  streets, 
was  music  in  their  ears  ;  the  lines  of  people  gazing  from  the 
wharves,  were  friends  held  dear  ;  the  canopy  of  smoke  that 
overhung  the  town,  was  brighter  and  more  beautiful  to  them, 
than  if  the  richest  silks  of  Persia  had  been  waving  in  the  air. 
And  though  the  water,  going  on  its  glistening  track,  turned, 
ever  and  again,  aside,  to  dance  and  sparkle  round  great  ships, 
and  heave  them  up  ;  and  leaped  from  off  the  blades  of  oars, 
a  shower  of  diving  diamonds  ;  and  wantoned  with  the  idle 
boats,  and  swiftly  passed,  in  many  a  sportive  chase,  through 
obdurate  old  iron  rings,  set  deep  into  the  stone-work  of  the 
quays  ;  not  even  it  was  half  so  buoyant,  and  so  restless,  as 
their  fluttering  hearts,  when  yearning  to  set  foot,  once  more, 
on  native  ground. 

A  year  had  passed  since  those  same  spires  and  roofs  had 
faded  from  their  eyes.  It  seemed,  to  them,  a  dozen  years. 
Some  trifling  changes,  here  and  there,  they  called  to  mind  ; 
and  wondered  that  they  were  so  few  and  slight.  In  health 
and  fortune,  prospect  and  resource,  they  came  back  poorer 
men  than  they  had  gone  away.  But  it  was  home.  And 
though  home  is  a  name,  a  word,  it  is  a  strong  one ;  stronger 
than  magician  ever  spoke,  or  spirit  answered  to,  in  strongest 
conjuration. 

Being  set  ashore,  with  ver>-  little  money  in  their  pockets, 
and  no  definite  plan  of  operation  in  their  heads,  they  sought 
out  a  cheap  tavern,  where  they  regaled  upon  a  smoking  steak, 
and  certain  flowing  mugs  of  beer,  as  only  men  just  landed 


MA  R  TIN  ClfUZZLE  WIT.  5  4g 

from  the  sea  can  revel  in  the  generous  dainties  of  the  earth. 
When  they  had  feasted,  as  two  grateful-tempered  giants  might 
have  done,  they  stirred  the  fire,  drew  back  the  glowing  cur- 
tain from  the  window,  and  making  each  a  sofa  for  himself,  by 
union  of  the  great  unwieldly  chairs,  gazed  blissfully  into  the 
street. 

Even  the  street  was  made  a  fairy  street,  by  being  half  hid- 
den in  an  atmosphere  of  steak,  and  strong,  stout,  stand-up 
English  beer.  For,  on  the  window-glass  hung  such  a  mist, 
that  Mr.  Tapley  was  obliged  to  rise  and  wipe  it  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, before  the  passengers  appeared  like  common  mortals. 
And  even  then,  a  spiral  little  cloud  went  curling  up  from 
their  two  glasses  of  hot  grog,  which  nearly  hid  them  from  each 
other. 

It  was  one  of  those  unaccountable  little  rooms  which  are 
never  seen  anywhere  but  in  a  tavern,  and  are  supposed  to 
have  got  into  taverns  by  reason  of  the  facilities  afforded  to 
the  architect  for  getting  drunk  while  engaged  in  their  con- 
struction. It  had  more  corners  in  it  than  the  brain  of  an 
obstinate  man  ;  was  full  of  mad  closets,  into  which  nothing 
could  be  put  that  was  not  specially  invented  and  made  for 
that  purpose  ;  had  mysterious  shelvings  and  bulk-heads,  and 
indications  of  staircases  in  the  ceiling  ;  and  was  elaborately 
provided  with  a  bell  that  rung  in  the  room  itself,  about  two 
feet  from  the  handle,  and  had  no  connection  whatever  with 
any  other  part  of  the  establishment.  It  was  a  little  below  the 
pavement,  and  abutted  close  upon  it ;  so  that  passengers 
grated  against  the  window  panes  with  their  buttons,  and 
scraped  it  with  their  baskets  ;  and  fearful  boys  suddenly  com- 
ing between  a  thoughtful  guest  and  the  light,  derided  him,  or 
put  out  their  tongues  as  if  he  were  a  physician  ;  or  made  white 
knobs  on  the  ends  of  their  noses  by  flattening  the  same 
against  the  glass,  and  vanished  awfully,  like  spectres. 

Martin  and  Mark  sat  looking  at  the  people  as  they  passed, 
debating  ever}'  now  and  then,  what  their  first  step  should  be. 

"  We  want  to  see  Miss  Mary,  of  course,"  said  Mark. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Martin.  "  But  I  don't  know  where  she 
is.  Not  having  had  the  heart  to  write  in  our  distress — you 
yourself  thought  silence  most  advisable — and  consequently, 
never  having  heard  from  her  since  we  left  New  York  the  first 
time,  I  don't  know  where  she  is,  my  good  fellow." 

"  My  opinion  is,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  that  what  we've  got 
to  do,  is  to  trave  straight  to  the  Dragon.     There's  no  need 


55° 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


for  you  to  go  there,  where  you're  known,  unless  you  like. 
You  may  stop  ten  mile  short  of  it.  I'll  go  on.  Mrs.  Lupin 
will  tell  me  all  the  news.  Mr.  Pinch  will  give  me  every  infor- 
mation that  we  want,  and  right  glad  Mr.  Pinch  will  be  to  do 
it.  My  proposal  is  :  To  set  off  walking  this  afternoon.  To 
stop  when  we  are  tired.  To  get  a  lift  when  we  can.  To  walk 
when  we  can't.     To  do  it  at  once,  and  do  it  cheap." 

"  Unless  we  do  it  cheap,  we  shall  have  some  difficulty  in 
doing  it  at  all,"  said  Martin,  jDuUing  out  the  bank,  and  telling 
it  over  in  his  hand. 

"The  greater  reason  for  losing  no  time,  sir,"  replied 
Mark.  "  Whereas,  when  you've  seen  the  young  lady,  and 
know  what  state  of  mind  the  old  gentleman's  in,  and  all  about 
it,  then  you'll  know  what  to  do  next." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Martin.     "  You  are  quite  right." 

They  were  raising  their  glasses  to  their  lips,  when  their 
hands  stopped  midway,  and  their  gaze  v/as  arrested  by  a 
figure  which  slowly,  very  slowly,  and  reflectively,  passed  the 
window  at  that  moment. 

Mr.  Pecksniff.  Placid,  calm,  but  proud.  Honestly  proud. 
Dressed  with  peculiar  care,  smiling  with  even  more  than  usual 
blandness,  pondering  on  the  beauties  of  his  art  with  a  mild 
abstraction  from  all  sordid  thoughts,  and  gently  travelling 
across  the  disc,  as  if  he  were  a  figure  in  a  magic  lantern. 

As  Mr  Pecksniff  passed,  a  person  coming  in  the  opposite 
direction  stopped  to  look  after  him  with  great  interest  and 
respect,  almost  with  veneration  ;  and  the  landlord  bouncing 
out  of  the  house,  as  if  he  had  seen  him  too,  joined  this  person, 
and  spoke  to  him,  and  shook  his  head  gravely,  and  looked- 
after  Mr.  Pecksniff  likewise. 

Martin  and  Mark  sat  staring  at  each  other,  as  if  they 
could  not  believe  it ;  but  there  stood  the  landlord,  and  the 
other  man  still.  In  spite  of  the  indignation  with  which  this 
glimpse  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  inspired  him,  Martin  could  not 
help  laughing  heartily.     Neither  could  Mark. 

"  We  must  inquire  into  this  !  "  said  Martin.  "  Ask  the 
landlord  in,  Mark." 

Mr.  Tapley  retired  for  that  purpose,  and  immediately  re- 
turned with  their  large-headed  host  in  safe  convoy. 

"  Pray,  landlord !  "  said  Martin,  "  who  is  that  gentleman 
who  passed  just  now,  and  whom  you  were  looking  after  ? " 

The  landlord  poked  the  fire  as  if,  in  his  desire  to  make  the 
most  of  his  answer,  he  had  become  indifferent   even    to  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  551 

price  of  coals,  and  putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  said,  after 
inflating  himself  to  give  still  further  effect  to  his  reply  : 

"  That,  gentlemen,  is  the  great  Mr.  PecksnifiE !  The  cele- 
brated architect,  gentlemen !  " 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  while  he  said  it,  as  if  he 
were  ready  to  assist  the  first  man  who  might  be  overcome  by 
the  intelligence. 

"  The  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  celebrated  architect,  gentle- 
men," said  the  landlord,  "  has  come  down  here,  to  help  to  lay 
the  first  stone  of  a  new  and  splendid  public  building." 

"  Is  it  to  be  built  from  his  designs?"  asked  Martin. 

"  The  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  celebrated  architect,  gen- 
tlemen," returned  the  landlord,  who  seemed  to  have  an 
unspeakable  delight  in  the  repetition  of  these  words,  "  carried 
off  the  First  Premium,  and  will  erect  the  building." 

"  Who  lays  the  stone  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Our  member  has  come  down  express,"  returned  the  land- 
lord. "  No  scrubs  would  do  for  no  such  a  purpose.  Nothing 
less  would  satisfy  our  Directors  than  our  member  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  who  is  returned  upon  the  Gentlemanly  Interest." 

"What  interest  is  that  ?"  asked  Martin. 

"  What,  don't  you  know  !  "  returned  the  landlord. 

It  was  quite  clear  the  landlord  didn't.  They  always  told 
him  at  election  time,  that  it  was  the  Gentlemanly  side,  and  he 
immediately  put  on  his  top-boots,  and  voted  for  it. 

"  When  does  the  ceremony  take  place  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  This  day,"  replied  the  landlord.  Then  pulling  out  his 
watch,  he  added,  impressively,  "  almost  this  minute." 

Martin  hastily  inquired  whether  there  was  any  possibility 

•of  getting  in   to  witness  it,  and  finding  that  there  would  be 

no  objection  to  the  admittance  of  any  decent  person,  unless 

indeed  the  ground  were  full,  hurried  off  with  Mark,  as  hard 

as  they  could  go. 

They  were  fortunate  enough  to  squeeze  themselves  into  a 
famous  corner  on  the  ground,  where  they  could  see  all  that 
passed,  without  much  dread  of  being  beheld  by  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff in  return.  They  were  not  a  minute  too  soon,  for  as 
they  were  in  the  act  of  congratulating  each  other,  a  great 
noise  was  heard  at  some  distance,  and  ever\'body  looked  to- 
wards the  gate.  Several  ladies  prepared  their  pocket  hand- 
kerchiefs for  waving ;  and  a  stray  teacher  belonging  to  the 
charit}^  school  being  much  cheered  by  mistake,  was  immensely 
groaned  at  when  detected. 


252  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  Tom  Pinch  with  him,"  Martin  whispered 
Mr.  Tapley. 

"  It  would  be  rather  too  much  of  a  treat  for  him,  wouldn't 
it,  sir  ?  "  whispered  Mr.  Tapley  in  return. 

There  was  no  time  to  discuss  the  probabilities  either  way, 
for  the  charity  school,  in  clean  linen,  came  tiling  in  two  and 
two,  so  much  to  the  self-approval  of  all  the  people  present 
who  didn't  subscribe  to  it,  that  many  of  them  shed  tears.  A 
band  of  music  followed,  led  by  a  conscientious  drummer  who 
never  left  off.  Then  came  a  great  many  gentlemen  with  wands 
in  their  hands,  and  bows  on  their  breasts,  whose  share  in  the 
proceedings  did  not  appear  to  be  distinctly  laid  down,  and 
who  trod  upon  each  other,  and  blocked  up  the  entry  for  a 
considerable  period.  These  were  followed  by  the  Mayor  and 
Corporation,  all  clustering  round  the  member  for  the  Gen- 
tlemanly Interest,  who  had  the  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the 
celebrated  architect,  on  his  right  hand,  and  conversed  with 
him  familiarly  as  they  came  along.  Then  the  ladies  waved 
their  handkerchiefs,  and  the  gentlemen  their  hats,  and  the 
charity  children  shrieked,  and  the  member  for  the  Gentle- 
manly Interest  bowed. 

Silence  being  restored,  the  member  for  the  Gentlemanly 
Interest  rubbed  his  hands  and  wagged  his  head,  and  looked 
about  him  pleasantly  ;  and  there  was  nothing  this  member 
did,  at  which  some  lady  or  other  did  not  burst  into  an  ecstatic 
waving  of  her  pocket  handkerchief.  When  he  looked  up  at 
the  stone,  they  said  how  graceful  !  when  he  peeped  into  the 
hole,  they  said  how  condescending  !  when  he  chatted  with 
the  Mayor,  they  said  how  easy  !  when  he  folded  his  arms 
they  cried  with  one  accord,  how  statesman-like  ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  observed  too  ;  closely.  When  he  talked 
to  the  Mayor,  they  said.  Oh,  really,  what  a  courtly  man  he 
was  !  When  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  mason's  shoulder, 
giving  him  directions,  how  pleasant  his  demeanor  to  the  work- 
ing classes :  just  the  sort  of  man  who  made  their  toil  a  pleas- 
ure to  them,  poor  dear  souls  ! 

But  now  a  silver  trowel  was  brought ;  and  when  the  mem- 
ber for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest,  tucking  up  his  coat-sleeve, 
did  a  little  slight-of-hand  with  the  mortar,  the  air  was  rent,  so 
loud  was  the  applause.  The  workman-like  manner  in  which 
he  did  it  was  amazing.  No  one  could  conceive  where  such  a 
gentlemanly  creature  could  have  picked  the  knowledge  up. 

When  he  had  made  a  kind  of  dirt-pie  under  the  direction 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  553 

of  the  mason,  they  brought  a  little  vase  contain uig  coins, 
the  which  the  member  of  the  Gentlemanly  Interest  jingled,  as 
if  he  were  going  to  conjure.  Whereat  they  said  how  droll, 
how  cheerful,  what  a  flow  of  spirits !  This  put  into  its  place, 
an  ancient  scholar  read  the  inscription,  which  was  in  Latin  : 
not  in  English  :  that  would  never  do.  It  gave  great  satisfac- 
tion ;  especially  every  time  there  was  a  good  long  substantive 
in  the  third  declension,  ablative  case,  with  an  adjective  to 
match  ;  at  which  periods  the  assembly  became  very  tender, 
and  were  much  affected. 

And  now  the  stone  was  lowered  down  into  its  place,  amidst 
the  shouting  of  the  concourse.  When  it  was  firmly  fixed,  the 
member  for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest  struck  upon  it  thrice 
with  the  handle  of  the  trowel,  as  if  inquiring,  with  a  touch  of 
humor,  whether  anybody  was  at  home.  Mr.  Pecksniff  then 
unrolled  his  Plans  (prodigious  plans  they  were),  and  people 
gathered  round  to  look  at  and  admire  them. 

Martin,  who  had  been  fretting  himself — quite  unnecessarily, 
as  Mark  thought — during  the  whole  of  these  proceedings, 
could  no  longer  restrain  his  impatience  ;  but  stepping  for- 
ward among  several  others,  looked  straight  o\er  the  shoulder 
of  the  unconscious  Mr.  Pecksniff,  at  the  designs  and  plans  he 
had  unrolled.      He  returned  to  Mark,  boiling  with  rage. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  sir.?  "  cried  Mark. 

"  Matter  !     This  is  wv  building." 

"  Your  building,  sir  !  "  said  Mark. 

"  My  grammar-school.  I  invented  it.  I  did  it  all.  He 
has  only  put  four  windows  in,  the  villain,  and  spoilt  it  !  " 

Mark  could  hardly  believe  it  at  first,  but  being  assured  that 
it  was  really  so,  actually  held  him  to  prevent  his  interference 
foolishly,  until  his  temporary  heat  was  past.  In  the  meantime, 
the  member  addressed  the  company  on  the  gratifying  deed 
which  he  had  just  performed. 

He  said  that  since  he  had  sat  in  Parliament  to  represent 
the  Gentlemanly  Interest  of  that  town,  and  he  might  add,  the 
Lady  Interest  he  hoped,  besides  (pocket  handkerchiefs),  it 
had  been  his  pleasant  duty  to  come  among  them,  and  to  raise 
his  voice  on  their  behalf  in  Another  Place  (pocket  handker- 
chiefs and  laughter),  often.  But  he  had  never  come  among 
them,  and  had  never  raised  his  voice,  with  half  such  pure, 
such  deep,  such  unalloyed  delight,  as  now.  "The  present  oc- 
casion," he  said,  "wille\erbe  memorable  to  me;  not  only 
for  the  reasons  I  have  assigned,  but  because  it  has  afforded 


^54  ^^^ ^  ^^^  CHUZZL E  WIT. 

me  an  opportunity  of  becoming  personally  known  to  a  gentle- 
man— " 

Here  he  pointed  the  trowel  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who  was 
greeted  with  vociferous  cheering,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
heart. 

"  To  a  gentleman  who,  I  am  happy  to  believe,  will  reap 
both  distinction  and  profit  from  this  field  :  whose  fame  had 
previously  penetratecl  to  me — as  to  whose  ears  has  it  not ! — 
but  whose  intellectual  countenance  I  never  had  the  distin- 
guished honor  to  behold  until  this  day,  and  whose  intellectual 
conversation  I  had  never  before  the  improving  pleasure  to 
enjoy." 

Everybody  seemed  very  glad  of  this,  and  applauded  more 
than  ever. 

"  But  I  hope  my  Honorable  Friend,"  said  the  Gentlemanly 
member — of  course  he  added  "  if  he  will  allow  me  to  call  him 
so,"  and  of  course  Mr.  Pecksniff  bowed — "  will  give  me  many 
opportunities  of  cultivating  the  knowledge  of  him  ;  and  that 
I  may  have  the  extraordinary  gratification  of  retiecting  in  after 
time  that  I  laid  on  this  day  two  first  stones,  both  belonging  to 
structures  which  shall  last  my  life  !  " 

Great  cheering  again.  AH  this  time,  Martin  was  cursing 
Mr.  Pecksniff  up  hill  and  down  dale. 

"  My  friends  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff",  in  reply.  "  My  duty 
is  to  build,  not  speak  ;  to  act,  not  talk  ;  to  deal  with  marble, 
stone,  and  brick  :  not  language.  I  am  veiy  much  affected. 
God  bless  you  !  " 

This  address,  pumped  out  apparently  from  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's very  heart,  brought  the  enthusiasm  to  its  highest  pitch. 
The  pocket  handkerchiefs  were  waved  again  ;  the  charity  chil- 
dren were  admonished  to  grow  up  Pecksniffs,  every  boy  among 
them  ;  the  Corporation,  gentlemen  with  wands,  member  for 
the  Gentlemanly  Interest,  all  cheered  for  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Three 
cheers  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  Three  more  for  Mr.  Pecksniff ! 
Three  more  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gentlemen,  if  you  please  !  One 
more,  gentlemen,  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  let  it  be  a  good  one 
to  finish  with  ! 

In  short,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  supposed  to  have  done  a  great 
work,  and  was  very  kindly,  courteously,  and  generously  re- 
warded. When  the  procession  mo\^ed  away,  and  Martin  and 
Mark  were  left  almost  alone  upon  the  ground,  his  merits,  and 
a  desire  to  acknowledge  them,  formed  the  common  topic.  He 
was  only  second  to  the  Gentlemanly  member. 


MARTLV  CHUZZLEWIT. 


555 


•*  Compare  that  fellow's  situation  to-day  with  ours  !  "  said 
Martin,  bitterly. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir !  "  cried  Mark,  "  what's  the  use  ? 
Some  architects  are  clever  at  making  foundations,  and  some 
architects  are  clever  at  building  on  'em  when  they're  made. 
But  it'll  all  come  right  in  the  end,  sir  ;  it'll  all  come  right  !  " 

"  And  in  the  meantime — "  began  Martin. 

"  In  the  meantime,  as  you  say,  sir,  we  have  a  deal  to  do, 
and  far  to  go.     So  sharp's  the  word,  and  Jolly  !  " 

"  You  are  the  best  master  in  the  world,  Mark,"  said  Martin, 
"  and  I  will  not  be  a  bad  scholar  if  I  can  help  it,  1  am  resolved  ! 
So  come  !     Best  foot  foremost,  old  fellow !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXVL 


TOM    PINCH    DEPARTS  TO  SEEK  HIS  FORTUNE.       WHAT  HE  FINDS 

AT    STARTING. 

Oh  !  what  a  different  town  Salisbury  was  in  Tom  Pinch's 
eyes  to  be  sure,  when  the  substantial  Pecksniff  of  his  heart 
melted  away  into  an  idle  dream !  He  possessed  the  same 
faith  in  the  wonderful  shops,  the  same  intensified  appreciation 
of  the  mystery  and  wickedness  of  the  place  ;  made  the  same 
exalted  estimate  of  its  wealth,  population,  and  resources  ;  and 
yet  it  was  not  the  old  city  nor  anything  like  it.  He  walked 
into  the  market  while  they  were  getting  breakfast  ready  for 
him  at  the  Inn ;  and  though  it  was  the  same  market  as  of 
old,  crowded  by  the  same  buyers  and  sellers  ;  brisk  with  the 
same  business  ;  noisy  with  the  same  confusion  of  tongues  and 
cluttering  of  fowls  in  coops ;  fair  with  the  same  display  of 
rolls  of  butter,  newly  made,  set  forth  in  linen  cloths  of  dazzling 
whiteness  ;  green  with  the  same  fresh  show  of  dewy  vegetables  ; 
dainty  with  the  same  array  in  higglers'  baskets  of  small  shaving- 
glasses,  laces,  braces,  trouser-straps,  and  hardware ;  savory 
with  the  same  unstinted  show  of  delicate  pigs'  feet,  and  pies 
made  precious  by  the  pork  that  once  had  walked  upon  them  : 
still  it  was  strangely  changed  to  Tom.  For,  in  the  centre  of 
the  market-place,  he  missed  a  statue  lie  had  set  up  there,  as  in 
all  other  places  of  his  personal  resort  :  and  it  looked  cold  and 
bare  without  that  ornament. 


556  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

The  change  lay  no  deeper  than  this,  for  Tom  was  far  from 
being  sage  enough  to  know,  that,  having  been  disappointed  in 
one  man,  it  would  have  been  a  strictly  rational  and  eminently 
wise  proceeding  to  have  revenged  himself  upon  mankind  in 
general,  by  mistrusting  them  one  and  all.  Indeed  this  piece 
of  justice,  though  it  is  upheld  by  the  authority  of  divers  profound 
poets  and  honorable  men,  bears  a  nearer  resemblance  to  the 
justice  of  that  good  Vizier  in  the  Thousand-and-one  Nights,  who 
issues  orders  for  the  destruction  of  all  the  Porters  in  Bag;dad 
because  one  of  that  unfortunate  fraternity  is  supposed  to  have 
misconducte^l  himself,  than  to  any  logical,  not  to  say  Christian 
system  of  conduct,  known  to  the  world  in  later  times. 

Tom  had  so  long  been  used  to  steep  the  Pecksniff  of  his 
fancy  in  his  tea,  and  spread  him  out  upon  his  toast,  and  take 
him  as  a  relish  with  his  beer,  that  he  made  but  a  poor  break- 
fast on  the  first  morning  after  his  expulsion.  Nor  did  he  much 
improve  his  appetite  for  dinner  by  seriously  considering  his 
own  affairs,  and  taking  counsel  thereon  with  his  friend  the 
organist's  assistant. 

The  organist's  assistant  gave  it  as  his  decided  opinion  that 
whatever  Tom  did,  he  must  go  to  London  ;  for  there  was  no 
place  like  it.  Which  may  be  true  in  the  main,  though  hardly, 
perhaps,  in  itself,  a  sufficient  reason  for  Tom's  going  there. 

But  Tom  had  thought  of  London  before,  and  had  coupled 
with  it  thoughts  of  his  sister,  and  of  his  old  friend  John  West- 
lock,  whose  advice  he  naturally  felt  disposed  to  seek  in  this 
important  crisis  of  his  fortunes.  To  London,  therefore,  he 
resolved  to  go ;  and  he  went  away  to  the  coach-office  at  once, 
to  secure  his  place.  The  coach  being  already  full,  he  was 
obliged  to  postpone  his  departure  until  the  next  night ;  but 
even  this  circumstance  had  its  bright  side  as  well  as  its  dark 
one,  for  though  it  threatened  to  reduce  his  poor  purse  with 
unexpected  countiy-charges,  it  afforded  him  an  opportunity  of 
writing  to  Mrs.  Lupin  and  appointing  his  box  to  be  brought 
to  the  old  finger-post  at  the  old  time  ;  which  would  enable 
him  to  take  that  treasure  with  him  to  the  metropolis,  and  save 
the  expense  of  its  carriage.  "  So,"  said  Tom,  comforting  him- 
self,  "it's  very  nearly  as  broad  as  it's  long." 

And  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  when  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  even  this  extent,  he  felt  an  unaccustomed  sense  of 
freedom — a  vague  and  indistinct  impression  of  hoHday-making 
— which  was  very  luxurious.  He  had  his  moments  of  depres- 
sion and  anxiety,  and  they  were,  with  good  reason,  pretty  nu- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


557 


merous  ;  but  still,  it  was  wonderfully  pleasant  to  reflect  that 
he  was  his  own  master,  and  could  plan  and  scheme  for  him- 
self. It  was  startling,  thrilling,  vast,  difticult  to  understand  ; 
it  was  a  stupendous  truth,  teeming  with  responsibility  and  self- 
distrust  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  his  cares,  it  gave  a  curious  relish 
to  the  viands  at  the  Inn,  and  interposed  a  dreamy  haze  be- 
tween him  and  his  prospects,  in  which  they  sometimes  showed 
to  magical  advantage. 

In  this  unsettled  state  of  mind,  Tom  went  once  more  to 
bed  in  the  low  four-poster,  to  the  same  immovable  surprise  of 
the  efifigies  of  the  former  landlord  and  the  fat  ox  ;  and  in  this 
condition,  passed  the  whole  of  the  succeeding  day.  When 
the  coach  came  round  at  last,  with  "  London  "  blazoned  in 
letters  of  gold  upon  the  boot,  it  gave  Tom  such  a  turn,  that 
he  was  half  disposed  to  run  away.  But  he  didn't  do  it  ;  for 
he  took  his  seat  upon  the  box  instead,  and  looking  down  upon 
the  four  grays,  felt  as  if  he  was  another  gray  himself,  or,  at  all 
events,  a  part  of  the  turn-out ;  and  was  quite  confused  by  the 
novelty  and  splendor  of  his  situation. 

And  really  it  might  have  confused  a  less  modest  man  than 
Tom  to  find  himself  sitting  next  that  coachman  ;  for  of  all  the 
swells  that  ever  flourished  a  whip,  professionally,  he  might 
have  been  elected  emperor.  He  didn't  handle  his  gloves  like 
another  man,  but  put  them  on — even  when  he  was  standing 
on  the  pavement,  quite  detached  from  the  coach — as  if  the 
four  grays  were,  somehow  or  other,  at  the  ends  of  the  fingers. 
It  was  the  same  with  his  hat.  He  did  things  with  his  hat, 
which  nothing  but  an  unlimited  knowledge  of  horses  and  the 
wildest  freedom  of  the  road,  could  ever  have  made  him  per- 
fect in.  Valuable  little  parcels  were  brought  to  him  with  par- 
ticular instructions,  and  he  pitched  them  into  this  hat,  and 
stuck  it  on  again  ;  as  if  the  laws  of  gravity  did  not  admit  of 
such  an  event  as  its  being  knocked  off  or  blown  ofT,  and  noth- 
ing like  an  accident  could  befall  it.  The  guard,  too  !  Seventy 
breezy  miles  a-day  were  written  in  his  very  whiskers.  His 
manners  were  a  canter  ;  his  conversation  a  round  trot.  He 
was  a  fast  coach  upon  a  down-hill  turnpike  road  ;  he  was  all 
pace.  A  wagon  couldn't  have  moved  slowly,  with  that  guard 
and  his  key-bugle  on  the  top  of  it. 

These  were  all  foreshadowings  of  London,  Tom  thought, 
as  he  sat  upon  the  box,  and  looked  about  him.  Such  a  coach- 
man, and  such  a  guard,  never  could  have  existed  between 
Salisbury  and  any  other  place.     The  coach  was  none  of  your 


5SS 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


steady-going,  yokel  coaches,  but  a  swaggering,  rakish,  dissi- 
pated London  coach ;  up  all  night,  and  lying  by  all  day,  and 
leading  a  devil  of  a  life.  It  cared  no  more  for  Salisbury 
than  if  it  had  been  a  hamlet.  It  rattled  noisily  through  the 
best  streets,  defied  the  Cathedral,  took  the  worst  corners 
sharpest,  went  cutting  in  everywhere,  making  ever^'thing  get 
out  of  its  way ;  and  spun  along  the  open  countr)'-road, 
blowing  a  lively  defiance  out  of  its  key-bugle,  as  its  last  glad 
parting  legacy. 

It  was  a  charming  evening.  Mild  and  bright.  And  even 
with  the  weight  upon  his  mind  which  arose  out  of  the  immen- 
sity and  uncertainty  of  London,  Tom  could  not  resist  the  cap- 
tivating sense  of  rapid  motion  through  the  pleasant  air.  The 
four  grays  skimmed  along,  as  if  they  liked  it  quite  as  well  as 
Tom  did ;  the  bugle  was  in  as  high  spirits  as  the  grays  ;  the 
coachman  chimed  in  sometimes  with  his  voice  ;  the  wheels 
hummed  cheerfullv  in  unison  ;  the  brass  work  on  the  harness 
was  an  orchestra  of  little  bells  ;  and  thus,  as  they  went  clink- 
ing, jingling,  rattling  smoothly  on,  the  whole  concern,  from 
the  buckles  of  the  leaders'  coupling-reins,  to  the  handle  of  the 
hind  boot,  was  one  great  instrument  of  music. 

Yoho,  past  hedges,  gates,  and  trees ;  past  cottages  and 
Darns,  and  people  going  home  from  work.  Yoho,  past  donkey- 
chaises,  drawn  aside  into  the  ditch,  and  empty  carts  with  ram- 
pant horses,  whipped  up  at  a  bound  upon  the  little  water- 
course, and  held  by  struggling  carters  close  to  the  li\'e-barred 
gate,  until  the  coach  had  passed  the  narrow  turning  in  the 
road.  Yoho,  by  churches  dropped  down  by  themselves  in 
quiet  nooks,  with  rustic  burial-grounds  about  them,  where  the 
graves  are  green,  and  daisies  sleejD — for  it  is  evening — on  the 
bosoms  of  the  dead.  Yoho,  past  streams,  in  which  the  cattle 
cool  their  feet,  and  where  the  rushes  grow  ;  past  paddock- 
fences,  farms  and  rick -yards  ;  past  last  year's  stacks,  cut, 
slice  by  slice,  away,  and  showing,  in  the  waning  light,  like 
ruined  gables,  old  and  brown.  Yoho,  down  the  pebbly  dip, 
and  through  the  merry  water-splash,  and  up  at  a  canter  to  the 
level  road  again.     Yoho  !  Yoho  ! 

Was  the  box  there,  when  they  came  up  to  the  old  finger- 
post ?  The  box  !  Was  Mrs.  Lupin  herself.?  Had  she  turned 
out  magnificently  as  a  hostess  should,  in  her  own  chaise-cart, 
and  was  she  sitting  in  a  mahogany  chair,  driving  her  own 
horse  Dragon  (who  ought  to  have  been  called  Dumpling),  and 
looking  lovely .?     Did  the   stage-coach  pull    up   beside   her. 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 


559 


shaving  her  very  wheel,  and  even  while  the  guard  helped  her 
man  up  with  the  trunk,  did  he  send  the  glad  echoes  of  his  bugle 
careering  down  the  chimneys  of  the  distant  Pecksniff,  as  if 
the  coach  expressed  its  exultation  in  the  rescue  of  Tom 
Pinch  ? 

"  This  is  kind  indeed  !  "  said  Tom,  bending  down  to  shake 
hands  with  her.      "  I  didn't  mean  to  give  you  this  trouble." 

"  Trouble,  Mr.  Pinch  I "  cried   the  hostess  of  the  Dragon. 

"  Well !  It's  a  pleasure  to  you,  I  know,"  said  Tom,  squeez- 
ing her  hand  heartily.     "  Is  there  any  news  ?  " 

The  hostess  shook  her  head. 

"  Say  you  saw  me,"  said  Tom,  "  and  that  I  was  very  bold 
and  cheerful,  and  not  a  bit  down-hearted  ;  and  that  I  entreated 
her  to  be  the  same,  for  all  is  certain  to  come  right  at  last. 
Good-by !  " 

"  You'll  write  when  you  get  settled,  Mr.  Pinch  1 "  said 
Mrs.  Lupin. 

"  When  I  get  settled  ! "  cried  Tom,  with  an  involuntary 
opening  of  his  eyes.  "Oh,  yes,  I'll  write  when  I  get  settled. 
Perhaps  1  had  better  write  before,  because  I  may  find  that  it 
takes  a  little  time  to  settle  myself,  not  having  too  much  money, 
and  having  only  one  friend.  I  shall  give  your  love  to  the 
friend,  by  the  way.  You  were  always  great  with  Mr.  West- 
lock,  you  know.     Good-by  !  " 

"  Good-by  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  hastily  producing  a  basket 
with  a  long  bottle  sticking  out  of  it.  "  Take  this.  Good- 
by  !  " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  carry  it  to  London  for  you  ?  "  cried 
Tom.     She  was  already  turning  the  chaise-cart  round. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin.  "  It's  only  a  little  some- 
thing for  refreshment  on  the  road.  Sit  fast.  Jack.  Drive  on, 
sir.     All  right  !     Good-by  !  " 

She  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  before  Tom  collected 
himself ;  and  then  he  was  waving  his  hand  lustily  ;  and  so 
was  she. 

"  And  that's  the  last  of  the  old  finger-post,"  thought  Tom, 
straining  his  eyes,  "  where  I  have  so  often  stood,  to  see  this 
very  coach  go  by,  and  where  I  have  parted  with  so  many 
companions  !  I  used  to  conijjare  this  coach  to  some  great 
monster  that  appeared  at  certain  times  to  bear  my  friends 
away  into  the  world.  And  now  it's  bearing  me  away,  to  seek 
my  fortune.  Heaven  knows  where  and  how  !  " 

It  made  Tom  melancholy  to  picture  himself  walking  up 


56o 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


the  lane  and  back  to  Pecksniff's  as  of  old ;  and,  being  melan- 
choly, he  looked  downwards  at  the  basket  on  his  knee,  which 
he  had  for  the  moment  forgotten. 

"  She  .8  the  kindest  and  most  considerate  creature  in  the 
world,"  thought  Tom.  "  Now  I  know  that  she  particularly 
told  that  man  of  hers  not  to  look  at  me,  on  purpose  to  prevent 
my  throwing  him  a  shilling  !  I  had  it  ready  for  him  all  the 
time,  and  he  never  once  looked  towards  me  ;  whereas  that 
man  naturally  (for  I  know  him  very  well),  would  have  done 
nothing  but  grin  and  stare.  Upon  my  word,  the  kindness  of 
people  perfectly  melts  me." 

Here  he  caught  the  coachman's  eye.  The  coachman 
winked.  "  Remarkable  fine  woman  for  her  time  of  life,"  said 
the  coachman. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  returned  Tom.     "  So  she  is." 

"  Finer  than  many  a  young  'un,  I  mean  to  say,"  observed 
the  coachman.     "  Eh  ?  " 

"Than  many  a  young  one,"  Tom  assented. 

"  I  don't  care  for  'em  myself  when  they're  too  young,"  re- 
marked the  coachman. 

This  was  a  matter  of  taste,  which  Tom  did  not  feel  himself 
called  upon  to  discuss. 

"  You'll  seldom  find  'em  possessing  correct  opinions  about 
refreshment,  for  instance,  when  they're  too  young,  you  know," 
said  the  coachman  :  "  a  woman  must  have  arrived  at  maturity, 
before  her  mind's  equal  to  coming  provided  with  a  basket  like 
that." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  what  it  contains  ?  "  said 
Tom,  smiling. 

As  the  coachman  only  laughed,  and  as  Tom  was  curious 
himself,  he  unpacked  it,  and  put  the  articles,  one  by  one, 
upon  the  footboard.  A  cold  roast  fowl,  a  packet  of  ham  in 
slices,  a  crusty  loaf,  a  piece  of  cheese,  a  paper  of  biscuits,  half 
a  dozen  apples,  a  knife,  some  butter,  a  screw  of  salt,  and  a 
bottle  of  old  sherry.  There  was  a  letter  besides,  which  Tom 
put  in  his  pocket. 

The  coachman  was  so  earnest  in  his  approval  of  Mrs. 
Tupin's  provident  habits,  and  congratulated  Tom  so  warmly 
on  his  good  fortune,  that  Tom  felt  it  necessary,  for  the  lady's 
sake,  "to  explain  that  the  basket  was  a  strictly  Platonic  basket, 
and  had  merely  been  presented  to  him  in  the  way  of  friend 
ship.  When  he  had  made  the  statement  with  perfect  gravity  ; 
for  he  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  disabuse  the  mind  of  this 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE IVTT.  5  6 1 

lax  rover  of  any  incorrect  impressions  on  the  subject  ;  he 
signified  that  he  would  be  happy  to  share  the  gifts  with  him, 
and  proposed  that  they  should  attack  the  basket  in  a  spirit  of 
good  fellowship  at  any  time  in  the  course  of  the  night  which 
the  coachman's  experience  and  knowledge  of  the  road  might 
suggest,  as  being  best  adapted  to  the  purpose.  From  this 
time  they  chatted  so  pleasantly  together,  that  although  Tom 
knew  infinitely  more  of  unicorns  than  horses,  the  coachman 
informed  his  friend  the  guard,  at  the  end  of  the  next  stage, 
"  that  rum  as  the  box-seat  looked,  he  was  as  good  a  one  to 
go,  in  pint  of  conversation,  as  ever  he'd  wish  to  sit  by." 

Yoho,  among  the  gathering  shades  ;  making  of  no  account 
the  deep  reflections  of  the  trees,  but  scampering  on  through 
light  and  darkness,  all  the  same,  as  if  the  light  of  London 
fifty  miles  away,  were  quite  enough  to  travel  by,  and  some  to 
spare.  Yoho,  beside  the  village-green,  where  cricket-players 
linger  yet,  and  every  little  indentation  made  in  the  fresh  grass 
by  bat  or  wicket,  ball  or  player's  foot,  sheds  out  its  perfume 
on  the  night.  Away  with  four  fresh  horses  from  the  Bald- 
faced  Stag,  where  topers  congregate  about  the  door  admiring  ; 
and  the  last  team  with  traces  hanging  loose,  go  roaming  off 
towards  the  pond,  until  observed  and  shouted  after  by  a 
dozen  throats,  while  volunteering  boys  pursue  them.  Now, 
with  a  clattering  of  hoofs  and  striking  out  of  fier)'  sparks, 
across  the  old  stone  Inidge,  and  down  again  into  the  shadowy 
road,  and  through  the  open,  gate,  and  far  away,  away,  into 
the  wold.     Yoho  ! 

Yoho,  behind  there,  stop  that  bugle  for  a  moment !  Come 
creeping  over  to  the  front,  along  the  coach-roof,  guard,  and 
make  one  at  this  basket !  Not  that  we  slacken  in  our  pace 
the  while,  not  we  :  we  rather  put  the  bits  of  blood  upon  their 
metal,  for  the  greater  glory  of  the  snack.  Ah  !  It  is  long 
since  this  bottle  of  old  wine  was  brought  into  contact  with 
the  mellow  breath  of  night,  you  may  depend,  and  rare  good 
stuff  it  is  to  wet  a  bugler's  whistle  with.  Only  try  it.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  turning  up  your  finger.  Bill,  another  pull !  Now, 
take  your  breath,  and  try  the  bugle.  Bill.  There's  music  ! 
There's  a  cone!  "Over  the  hills  and  far  away,"  indeed. 
Yoho !  The  skittish  mare  is  all  alive  to-night.  Yoho ! 
Yoho  ! 

See  the  bright  moon  !  High  up  before  we  know  it  :  mak- 
ing the  earth  reflect  the  objects  on  its  breast  like  water. 
Hedges,  trees,  low  cottages,  church  steeples,  blighted  stumps 

36 


562 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


and  flourishing  young  slips,  have  all  grown  vain  upon  the 
sudden,  and  mean  to  contemplate  their  own  fair  images  till 
morning.  The  poplars  yonder  rustle,  that  their  quivering 
leaves  may  see  themselves  upon  the  ground.  Not  so  the  oak  ; 
trembling  does  not  become  hitn  ;  and  he  watches  himself  in 
his  stout  old  burly  steadfastness,  without  the  motion  of  a  twig. 
The  moss-grown  gate,  ill-poised  upon  its  creaking  hinges, 
crippled  and  decayed,  swings  to  and  fro  before  its  glass,  like 
some  fantastic  dowager  ;  while  our  own  ghostly  likeness  travels 
on,  Yoho  !  Yoho  !  through  ditch  and  brake,  upon  the  ploughed 
land  and  the  smooth,  along  the  steep  hill-side  and  steeper 
wall,  as  if  it  were  a  phantom-Hunter. 

Clouds  too  !  And  a  mist  upon  the  Hollow !  Not  a  dull 
fog  that  hides  it,  but  a  light  airy  gauze-like  mist,  which  in  our 
eves  of  modest  admiration  gives  a  new  charm  to  the  beauties 
it  is  spread  before  :  as  real  gauze  has  done  ere  now,  and  would 
again,  so  please  you,  though  we  were  the  Pope.  Yoho !  \^^hy 
now  we  travel  like  the  Moon  herself.  Hiding  this  minute  in 
a  grove  of  trees ;  next  minute  in  a  patch  of  vapor ;  emerging 
now  upon  our  broad  clear  course  ;  withdrawing  now,  but 
always  dashing  on,  our  journey  is  a  counterpart  of  hers.  Yoho ! 
A  match  against  the  Moon  ! 

The  beauty  of  the  night  is  hardly  felt,  when  Day  comes 
leaping  up.  Yoho  !  Two  stages,  and  the  country  roads  are 
almost  changed  to  a  continuous  street.  Yoho,  past  market- 
gardens,  rows  of  houses,  villas,  crescents,  terraces,  and 
squares ;  past  wagons,  coaches,  carts  ;  past  early  workmen, 
late  stragglers,  drunken  men,  and  sober  carriers  of  loads ; 
past  brick  and  mortar  in  its  every  shape  ;  and  in  among  the 
rattling  pavements,  where  a  jaunty-seat  upon  a  coach  is  not 
so  easy  to  preserve  !  Yoho,  down  countless  turnings,  and 
through  countless  mazy  ways,  until  an  old  Inn-yard  is  gained, 
and  Tom  Pinch,  getting  down,  quite  stunned  and  giddy,  is  in 
London ! 

"  Five  minutes  before  the  time,  too !  "  said  the  driver,  as 
he  received  his  fee  of  Tom. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Tom,  "  I  should  not  have  minded 
very  much,  if  we  had  been  five  hours  after  it ;  for  at  this 
early  hour  I  don't  know  where  to  go,  or  what  to  do  with  my- 
self." 

"  Don't  they  expect  you  then  ?  "  inquired  the  driver 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"Why,  them,"  returned  the  driver 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  563 

His  mind  was  so  clearly  running  on  the  assumption  of 
Tom's  bavins:  come  to  town  to  see  an  extensive  circle  of 
anxious  relations  and  friends,  that  it  would  have  been  pretty 
hard  work  to  undecei\'e  him.  Tom  did  not  try.  He  cheer- 
fully evaded  the  subject,  and  going  into  the  Inn,  fell  fast 
asleep  before  a  fire  in  one  of  the  public  rooms  opening  from 
the  yard.  When  he  awoke,  the  people  in  the  house  were  all 
astir,  so  he  washed  and  dressed  himself  ;  to  his  great  refresh- 
ment after  the  journey  ;  and,  it  being  by  that  time  eight  o'clock, 
went  forth  at  once  to  see  his  old  friend  John. 

John  Westlock  lived  in  Furnival's  Inn,  High  Holborn, 
which  was  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  Avalk  of  Tom's  start- 
ing-point, but  seemed  a  long  way  off,  by  reason  of  his  going 
two  or  three  miles  out  of  the  straight  road  to  make  a  short 
cut.  When  at  last  he  arrived  outside  John's  door,  two  stories 
up,  he  stood  faltering  with  his  hand  upon  the  knocker,  and 
trembled  from  head  to  foot.  For  he  was  rendered  very  nervous 
by  the  thought  of  having  to  relate  what  had  fallen  out  between 
himself  and  Pecksniff  ;  and  he  had  a  misgiving  that  John 
would  exult  fearfully  in  the  disclosure. 

"But  it  must  be  made,"  thought  Tom,  "sooner  or  later; 
and  I  had  better  get  it  over." 

Rat  tat. 

"  I  am  afraid  that's  not  a  London  knock,"  thought  Tom. 
"  It  didn't  sound  bold.  Perhaps  that's  the  reason  why  nobody 
answers  the  door." 

It  is  quite  certain  that  nobody  came,  and  that  Tom  stood 
looking  at  the  knocker,  wondering  whereabouts  in  the  neigh- 
borhood a  certain  gentleman  resided,  who  was  roaring  out  to 
somebody  "  Come  in  !  "  with  all  his  might. 

"  Bless  my  soul  !  "  thought  Tom  at  last.  "  Perhaps  he 
lives  here,  and  is  calling  to  me.  I  never  thought  of  that. 
Can  I  open  the  door  from  the  outside,  1  wonder.  Yes,  to  be 
sure  I  can." 

To  be  sure  he  could,  by  turning  the  handle  :  and  to  be 
sure  when  he  did  turn  it  the  same  voice  came  rushing  out, 
cr}dng  "  Why  don't  you  come  in  .''  Come  in,  do  you  hear  .'' 
What  are  you  standing  there  for .''  " — quite  violently. 

Tom  stepped  from  the  little  passage  into  the  room  from 
which  these  sounds  proceeded,  and  had  barely  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  gentleman  in  a  dressing-gown  and  slippers  (with  his 
boots  beside  him  ready  to  jxit  on),  sitting  at  his  breakfast 
with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand,  when  the   said  gentleman,  at 


564  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  imminent  hazard  of  oversetting  his  tea-table,  made  a 
plunge  at  Tom,  and  hugged  him. 

"  Why,  Tom,  my  boy  !  '  cried  the  gentleman.     "  Tom  !  " 

*'  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Mr.  Westlock  !  "  said  Tom 
Pinch,  shaking  both  his  hands,  and  trembling  more  than  ever. 
"  How  kind  3'ou  are  !  " 

"  Mr.  Westlock  !  "  repeated  John,  "  what  do  you  mean  by 
that  Pinch  t  You  have  not  forgotten  my  Christian  name,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  No,  John,  no.  I  have  not  forgotten  it,"  said  Thomas 
Pinch.     "  Good  gracious  me,  how  kind  you  are  !  " 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  in  all  my  life  !  "  cried  John. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  o\er  and  over  again  1 
What  did  you  expect  me  to  be,  I  wonder  !  Here,  sit  down 
Tom,  and  be  a  reasonable  creature.  How  are  you,  my  boy. 
I  am  delighted  to  see  you  !  " 

"  And  I  am  delighted  to  see  I'l?//,"  said  Tom. 

"  It's  mutual,  of  course,"  returned  John.  "  It  always  was, 
I  hope.  If  I  had  known  you  had  been  coming,  Tom,  I  would 
have  had  something  for  breakfast.  I  would  rather  have  such 
a  surprise  than  the  best  breaMast  in  the  world,  myself,  but 
yours  is  another  case,  and  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  as  hungry 
as  a  hunter.  You  must  make  out  as  well  as  you  can,  Tom, 
and  "we'll  recompense  ourselves  at  dinner  time.  You  take 
sugar  I  know  :  I  recollect  the  sugar  at  Pecksniff's.  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !  How  is  Pecksniff  ?  When  did  you  come  to  town  .''  Do 
begin  at  something  or  other,  Tom.  There  are  only  scraps 
here,  but  they  are  not  at  all  bad.  Boar's  Head  potted.  Try 
it,  Tom.  Make  a  beginning  whatever  you  do.  What  an  old 
Blade  you  are  !     I  am  delighted  to  see  you." 

While  he  delivered  himself  of  these  words  in  a  state  of 
great  commotion,  John  was  constantly  running  backwards  and 
forwards  to  and  from  the  closet,  bringing  out  all  sorts  of  things 
in  pots,  scooping  extraordinary  quantities  of  tea  out  of  the 
caddy,  dropping  French  rolls  into  his  boots,  pouring  hot 
water  over  the  butter,  and  making  a  variety  of  similar  mistakes 
without  disconcerting  himself  in  the  least. 

"  There  !  "  said  John,  sitting  down  for  the  fiftieth  time, 
and  instantly  starting  up  again  to  make  some  other  addition 
to  the  breakfast.  "  Now  we  are  as  well  off  as  we  are  likely  to 
be  till  dinner.  And  now  let  us  have  the  news,  Tom.  Im- 
primis, how's  Pecksniff  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  how  he  is,"  was  Tom's  grave  answer. 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  565 

John  Westlock  put  the  teapot  'down,  and  looked  at  him 
in  astonishment. 

"  I  don't  know  how  he  is,"  said  Thomas  Pinch  ;  "  and  saving 
that  I  wish  him  no  ill,  I  don't  care.  1  have  left  him,  John. 
I  have  left  him  for  ever." 

"  Voluntarily  ?  " 

"  Why  no,  for  he  dismissed  me.  But  I  had  first  found  out 
that  I  was  mistaken  in  him  ;  and  I  could  not  have  remained 
with  him  under  any  circumstances.  I  grieve  to  say  that  you 
were  right  in  your  estimate  of  his  character.  It  may  be  a 
ridiculous  weakness,  John,  but  it  has  been  ver}-  painful  and 
bitter  to  me  to  find  this  out,  I  do  assure  you." 

Tom  had  no  need  to  direct  that  appealing  look  towards 
his  friend,  in  mild  and  gentle  deprecation  of  his  answering 
with  a  laugh.  John  Westlock  would  as  soon  have  thought  of 
striking  him  down  upon  the  floor. 

"  It  was  all  a  dream  of  mine,"  said  Tom,  "  and  it  is  over. 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened,  at  some  other  time.  Bear  with 
my  folly,  John.  I  do  not,  just  now,  like  to  think  or  speak 
about  it." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Tom,"  returned  his  friend,  with  great 
earnestness  of  manner,  after  remaining  silent  for  a  few 
moments,  "  that  when  I  see,  as  I  do  now,  how  deeply  you  feel 
this,  I  don't  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry,  that  you  have 
made  the  discovery  at  last.  I  reproach  myself  with  the 
thought  that  I  ever  jested  on  the  subject ;  I  ought  to  have 
known  better." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Tom,  extending  his  hand,  "  it  is 
very  generous  and  gallant  in  you  to  receive  me  and  my  dis- 
closure in  this  spirit  ;  it  makes  me  blush  to  think  that  I  should 
have  felt  a  moment's  uneasiness  as  I  came  along.  You  can't 
think  what  a  weight  is  lifted  off  my  mind,"  said  Tom,  taking 
up  his  knife  and  fork  again,  and  looking  very  cheerful.  "  I 
shall  punish  the  Boar's  Head  dreadfully." 

The  host,  thus  reminded  of  his  duties,  instantly  betook 
himself  to  piling  up  all  kinds  of  irreconcilable  and  contradic- 
tory viands  in  Tom's  plate,  and  a  ver}^  capital  breakfast  Tom 
made,  and  very  much  the  better  for  it,  Tom  felt. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  John,  after  contemplating  his  visi- 
tor's proceedings,  with  infinite  satisfaction.  "  Now,  about 
our  plans.  You  are  going  to  stay  with  me,  of  course. 
Where's  your  box  ?  " 

"  It's  at  the  Inn,"  said  Tom.     "  I  didn't  intend ' 


566 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Never  mind  what  you  didn't  intend,"  John  Westlock 
interposed.  "  What  you  did  intend  is  more  to  the  purpose. 
You  intended,  in  coming  here,  to  ask  my  advice,  did  you  not, 
Tom  t  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  to  take  it  when  I  gave  it  to  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Tom,  smiUng,  "if  it  were  good  advice, 
which,  being  yours,  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be," 

"  Very  well.  Then  don't  be  an  obstinate  old  humbug  in 
the  outset,  Tom,  or  I  shall  shut  up  shop  and  dispense  none 
of  that  invaluable  commodity.  You  are  on  a  visit  to  me,  I 
wish  I  had  an  organ  for  you,  Tom !  " 

"  So  do  the  gentlemen  down  stairs,  and  the  gentlemen 
overhead,  I  have  no  doubt,"  was  Tom's  reply. 

"  Let  me  see.  In  the  first  place,  you  will  wish  to  see  your 
sister  this  morning,"  pursued  his  friend,  "  and  of  course  you 
will  like  to  go  there  alone.  I'll  walk  part  of  the  way  with 
you,  and  see  about  a  little  business  of  my  own,  and  meet  you 
here  again  in  the  afternoon.  Put  that  in  your  pocket,  Tom. 
It's  only  the  key  of  the  door.     If  you  come  home  first,  you'll 


want  it." 


"  Really,"  said  Tom, ."  quartering  one's  self  upon  a  friend 
in  this  way — " 

"  Why,  there  are  two  kevs,"  interposed  John  Westlock. 
"  I  can't  open  the  door  with  them  both  at  once,  can  I  }  What 
a  ridiculous  fellow  you  are,  Tom  !  Nothing  particular  you'd 
like  for  dinner,  is  there?" 

"  Oh  dear  no,"  said  Tom, 

"  Veiy  well,  then  you  may  as  well  leave  it  to  me.  Have 
a  glass  of  cherry  brandy,  Tom  "i  " 

"  Not  a  drop  !  What  remarkable  chambers  these  are !  " 
said  Pinch,  "  there's  everything  in  'em  !  " 

"  Bless  your  soul,  Tom,  nothing  but  a  few  little  bachelor 
contrivances  !  the  sort  of  impromptu  arrangements  that  might 
have  suggested  themselves  to  Philip  Quarll  or  Robinson  Cru- 
soe :  that's  all.     What  do  you  say  ?     Shall  we  walk  'i  " 

"  By  all  means,"  cried  Tom.     "  As  soon  as  you  like." 

Accordingly,  John  Westlock  took  the  French  rolls  out  of 
his  boots,  and  put  his  boots  on,  and  dressed  himself,  giving 
Tom  the  paper  to  read  in  the  meanwhile.  When  he  returned, 
equipped  for  walking,  he  found  Tom  in  a  brown  study,  with 
the  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Dreaming,  Tom } " 


Jl/A R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


5^7 


"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  No.  I  have  been  looking  over 
the  advertising  sheet,  thinking  there  might  be  something  in  it 
which  would  be  likely  to  suit  me.  But,  as  I  often  think,  the 
strange  thing  seems  to  be  that  nobody  is  suited.  Here  are 
all  kinds  of  employers  wanting  all  sorts  of  servants,  and  all 
sorts  of  servants  wanting  all  kinds  of  employers,  and  they 
never  seem  to  come  together.  Here  is  a  gentleman  in  a  joub- 
lic  office  in  a  position  of  temporary  difficulty,  who  wants  to 
borrow  five  hundred  pounds  ;  and  in  the  very  next  advertise- 
ment here  is  another  gentleman  who  has  got  exactly  that  sum 
to  lend.  But  he'll  never  lend  it  to  him,  John,  you'll  find  ! 
Here  is  a  lady  possessing  a  moderate  independence,  who 
wants  to  board  and  lodge  with  a  quiet,  cheerful  family ;  and 
here  is  a  family  describing  themselves  in  those  very  words,  '  a 
quiet,  cheerful  family,'  who  want  exactly  such  a  lady  to  come 
and  live  witb  them.  But  she'll  never  go,  John  !  Neither  do 
any  of  these  single  gentlemen  who  want  an  airy  bed-room, 
with  the  occasional  use  of  a  parlor,  ever  appear  to  come  to 
terms  with  these  other  people  who  live  in  a  rural  situation, 
remarkable  for  its  bracing  atmosphere,  within  five  minutes' 
walk  of  the  Royal  Exchange.  Even  those  letters  of  the  alpha- 
bet, who  are  always  running  away  from  their  friends  and  being 
entreated  at  the  tops  of  columns  to  come  back,  never  do  come 
back,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  number  of  times  they  are 
asked  to  do  it,  and  don't.  It  really  seems,"  said  Tom  relin- 
quishing the  paper,  with  a  thoughtful  sigh,  "  as  if  people  had 
the  same  gratification  in  printing  their  complaints  as  in  mak- 
ing them  known  by  word  of  mouth  ;  as  if  they  found  it  a 
comfort  and  consolation  to  proclaim  '  I  want  such  and  such  a 
thing,  and  I  can't  get  it,  and  I  don't  expect  I  ever  shall  !  '" 

John  Westlock  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  they  went  out  to- 
gether. So  many  years  had  passed  since  Tom  was  last  in 
London,  and  he  had  known  so  little  of  it  then,  that  his  inter- 
est in  all  he  saw  was  very  great.  He  was  particularly  anxious, 
among  other  notorious  localities,  to  have  those  streets  pointed 
out  to  him  which  were  appropriated  to  the  slaughter  of  country- 
men ;  and  was  quite  disappointed  to  find,  after  a  half-an-hour's 
walking,  that  he  hadn't  had  his  pocket  picked.  But  on  John 
Westlock's  inventing  a  pickpocket  for  liis  gratification,  and 
pointing  out  a  highly  respectable  stranger  as  one  of  that 
fraternity,  he  was  much  delighted. 

His  friend  accompanied  him  to  within  a  short  distance  of 
Camberwell,  and  having  put  him  beyond  the  possibility  of 


568 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


mistaking  the  wealthy  brass-and-copper  founder's,  left  him  to 
make  his  visit.  Arriving  before  the  great  bell-handle,  Tom 
gave  it  a  gentle  pull.     The  porter  appeared. 

"  Pray  does  Miss  Pinch  live  here  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  Governess  here,"  replied  the  porter. 

At  the  same  time  he  looked  at  Tom  from  head  to  foot,  as 
if  he  would  have  said,  "  You  are  a  nice  man,  you  are  ;  where 
did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  It's  the  same  young  lady,"  said  Tom.  "  It's  quite  right. 
Is  she  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  rejoined  the  porter. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  have  the  goodness  to  ascertain  ?  " 
said  Tom.  He  had  quite  a  delicacy  in  offering  the  suggestion, 
for  the  possibility  of  such  a  step  did  not  appear  to  present 
itself  to  the  porter's  mind  at  all. 

The  fact  was  that  the  porter  in  answering  the  gate-bell, 
had,  according  to  usage,  rung  the  house-bell  (for  it  is  as  well 
to  do  these  things  in  the  Baronial  style  while  you  are  about 
it),  and  that  there  the  functions  of  his  office  had  ceased.  Be- 
ing hired  to  open  and  shut  the  gate,  and  not  to  explain  him- 
self to  strangers,  he  left  this  little  incident  to  be  developed  by 
the  footman  with  the  tags,  who,  at  this  juncture,  called  out, 
from  the  door  steps  : 

"  Hollo,  there  !  wot  are  you  up  to  ?   This  way  young  man  !  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Tom,  hurrying  towards  him.  "  I  didn't  ob- 
serve that  there  was  anybody  else.  Pray  is  Miss  Pinch  at 
home  ?  " 

"  She's  /;/,"  replied  the  footman.  As  much  as  to  say  to 
Tom  :  "  But  if  you  think  she  has  anything  to  do  with  the 
proprietorship  of  this  place,  you  had  better  abandon  that 
idea." 

"  I  wish  to  see  her  if  you  please,"  said  Tom. 

The  footman,  being  a  lively  young  man,  happened  to  have 
his  attention  caught  at  that  moment  by  the  flight  of  a  pigeon, 
in  which  he  took  so  Avarm  an  interest,  that  his  gaze  was  rivet- 
ed on  the  bird  until  it  was  quite  out  of  sight.  He  then  in- 
vited Tom  to  come  in,  and  showed  him  into  a  parlor. 

"  Hany  neem  ?  "  said  the  young  man,  pausing  languidly  at 
the  door. 

It  was  a  good  thought  :  because  without  providing  the 
stranger,  in  case  he  should  happen  to  be  of  a  warm  temper, 
with  a  sufficient  excuse  for  knocking  him  down,  it  implied 
this  young  man's  estimate  of  his  quality,  and  relieved  his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


5^9 


breast  of  the  oppressive  burden  of  rating  him  in  secret  as  a 
nameless  and  obscure  individual. 

"  Say  her  brother,  if  you  please,"  said  Tom. 

"  Mother.?  "  drawled  the  footman. 

"  Brother,"  repeated  Tom,  slightly  raising  his  voice. 
"  And  if  you  will  say,  in  the  first  instance,  a  gentleman,  and 
then  say  her  brother,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you,  as  she  does 
not  expect  me,  or  know  I  am  in  London,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
starde  her." 

The  young  man's  interest  in  Tom's  observations  had 
ceased  long  before  this  time,  but  he  kindly  waited  until  now  ; 
when,  shutting  the  door,  he  withdrew. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Tom.  "  This  is  very  disrespectful 
and  uncivil  behavior.  I  hope  these  are  new  servants  here, 
and  that  Ruth  is  very  differently  treated." 

His  cogitations  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  voices 
in  the  adjoining  room.  They  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  high 
dispute,  or  in  indignant  reprimand  of  some  offender  ;  and 
gathering  strength  occasionally,  broke  out  into  a  perfect  whirl- 
wind. It  was  in  one  of  these  gusts,  as  it  appeared  to  Tom, 
that  the  footman  announced  him  ;  for  an  abrupt  and  unnatural 
calm  took  place,  and  then  a  dead  silence.  He  was  standing 
befcre  the  window  wondering  what  domestic  quarrel  might 
have  caused  these  sounds,  and  hoping  Ruth  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it,  when  the  door  opened,  and  his  sister  ran  into  his 
arms. 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul  !  "  said  Tom,  looking  at  her  with 
great  pride,  when  they  had  tenderly  embraced  each  other, 
"how  altered  you  are,  Ruth  !  I  should  scarcely  have  known 
you,  my  love,  if  I  had  seen  you  anywhere  else,  I  declare  ! 
You  are  so  improved,"  said  Tom,  with  inexpressible  delight : 
"  you  are  so  womanly  ;  you  are  so — positively,  you  know,  you 
are  so  handsome  !  " 

"  \i  you  think  so,  Tom — " 

"  Oh,  but  ever}-body  must  think  so,  you  know,"  said  Tom, 
gently  smoothing  down  her  hair.  It's  matter  of  fact;  not 
opinion.  But  what's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Tom,  looking  at  her 
more  intently,  "  how  flushed  you  are  !  and  you  ha\e  been  cry- 


ing." 


"No,  I  have  not,  Tom." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  her  brother  stoutly.  "That's  a  story. 
Don't  tell  me  !  I  know  better.  What  is  it,  dear?  I'm  not 
with  Mr.  Pecksniff  now ;  I  am  going  to  Xxy  and  settle  myself 


570 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


in  London  ;  and  if  you  are  not  happy  here  (as  I  very  much 
fear  you  are  not,  for  I  begin  to  think  you  have  been  deceiving 
me  with  the  kindest  and  most  affectionate  intention)  you  shall 
not  remain  here." 

Oh  !  Tom's  blood  was  rising  ;  mind  that !  Perhaps  the 
Boar's  Head  had  something  to  do  with  it,  but  certainly  the 
footman  had.  So  had  the  sight  of  his  pretty  sister — a  great 
deal  to  do  with  it.  Tom  could  bear  a  good  deal  himself,  but 
he  was  proud  of  her,  and  pride  is  a  sensitive  thing.  He  be- 
gan to  think,  "  there  are  more  Pecksniffs  than  one,  perhaps," 
and  by  all  the  pins  and  needles  that  run  up  and  down  in  an- 
gry veins,  Tom  was  in  a  most  unusual  tingle  all  at  once  ! 

"  We  will  talk  about  it,  Tom,"  said  Ruth,  giving  him  an- 
other kiss  to  pacify  him.     "  I  am   afraid  I  cannot  stay  here." 

"  Cannot !  "  replied  Tom.  "  Why  then,  you  shall  not,  my 
love  !  Heyday  !  You  are  not  an  object  of  charity  !  Upon 
my  word  !  " 

Tom  was  stopped  in  these  exclamations  by  the  footman, 
who  brought  a  message  from  his  master,  importing  that  he 
wished  to  speak  with  him  before  he  went,  and  with  Miss 
Pinch  also. 

"Show  the  way,"  said    Tom.      "I'll  wait  upon   him   at 


once." 


Accordingly  they  entered  the  adjoining  room  from  which 
the  noise  of  altercation  had  proceeded  ;  and  there  they  found 
a  middle-aged  gentleman,  with  a  pompous  voice  and  manner, 
and  a  middle-aged  lady,  with  what  may  be  termed  an  excise- 
able  face,  or  one  in  which  starch  and  vinegar  were  decidedly 
employed.  There  was  likewise  present  that  eldest  pupil  of 
Miss  Pinch,  whom  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  a  previous  occasion,  had 
called  a  syrup,  and  who  was  now  weeping  and  sobbing  spite- 
fully. 

"My  brother,  sir,"  said  Ruth  Pinch,  timidly  presenting 
Tom. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  gentleman,  surveying  Tom  attentively. 
"  You  really  are  INIiss  Pinch's  brother,  1  presume  ?  You  will 
excuse  my  asking.     I  don't  observe  any  resemblance." 

"  Miss  Pinch  has  a  brother,  I  know,"  observed  the  lady. 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  always  talking  about  her  brother,  when 
she  ought  to  be  engaged  upon  my  education,"  sobbed  the 
pupil. 

"  Sophia  !  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  observed  the  gentleman. 
"  Sit  down,  if  you  please,"  addressing  Tom. 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  5  7 1 

Tom  sat  down,  looking  from  one  face  to  another,  in  mute 
surprise. 

"  Remain  here,  if  you  please,  Miss  Pinch,"  pursued  the 
gentleman,  looking  slightly  over  his  shoulder. 

Tom  interrupted  him  here,  by  rising  to  place  a  chair  for 
his  sister.     Having  done  which  he  sat  down  again. 

"  I  am  glad  you  chance  to  have  called  to  see  your  sister 
to-day,  sir,"  resumed  the  brass-and-copper  founder.  "  For 
although  1  do  not  approve,  as  a  principle,  of  any  young  per- 
son engaged  in  my  family,  in  the  capacity  of  a  go\erness,  re- 
ceiving visitors,  it  happens  in  this  case  to  be  well-timed.  I 
am  sorry  to  inform  you  that  we  are  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
your  sister." 

"  We  are  very  much  rf/Vsatisfied  with  her,"  ol^served  the 
lady. 

"  I'd  never  say  another  lesson  to  Miss  Pinch  if  I  was  to 
be  beat  to  death  for  it !  "  sobbed  the  pupil. 

"  Sophia !  "  cried  her  father.     "  Hold  your  tongue  !  " 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  inquire  what  your  ground  of  dis- 
satisfaction is.-"  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  will.  I  don't  recognize  it 
as  a  right ;  but  I  will.  Your  sister  has  not  the  slightest  in- 
nate power  of  commanding  respect.  It  has  been  a  constant 
source  of  difference  between  us.  Although  she  has  been  in 
this  family  for  some  time,  and  although  the  young  lady  who 
is  now  present,  has  almost,  as  it  were,  grown  up  under  her 
tuition,  that  young  lady  has  no  respect  for  her.  Miss  Pinch 
has  been  perfectly  unable  to  command  my  daughter's  respect, 
or  to  win  my  daughter's  confidence.  Now,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, allowing  the  palm  of  his  hand  to  fall  gravely  down  upon 
the  table  :  "  I  maintain  that  there  is  something  radically 
wrong  in  that !  You,  as  her  brother,  may  be  disposed  to 
deny  it — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  I  am  not  at  all 
disposed  to  deny  it.  I  am  sure  that  there  is  something  radi- 
cally wrong — radically  monstrous — in  that." 

"■Good  Heavens!"  cried  the  gentleman,  looking  round 
the  room  with  dignitv,  what  do  1  find  to  be  the  case  !  what 
results  obtrude  themselves  upon  me  as  flowing  from  this  weak- 
ness of  character  on  the  part  of  Miss  Pinch  !  What  are  my 
feelings  as  a  father,  when,  after  my  desire  (repeatedly  ex- 
pressed to  Miss  Pinch,  as  I  think  she  will  not  venture  to 
deny)  that  my  daughter  should  be  choice  in  her  expressions, 


572 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


genteel  in  her  deportment,  as  becomes  her  station  in  life,  and 
politely  distant  to  her  inferiors  in  society,  I  find  her,  only  this 
very  morning,  addressing  Miss  Pinch  herself  as  a  beggar  ! " 

"  A  beggarly  thing,"  observed  the  lady,  in  correction. 

"  Which  is  worse,"  said  the  gentleman,  triumphantly ; 
"which  is  worse.  A  beggarly  thing.  A  low,  coarse  despica- 
ble expression  !  " 

"  Most  despicable,"  cried  Tom.  "I  am  glad  to  find  that 
there  is  a  just  appreciation  of  it  here." 

"  So  just,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  lowering  his  voice  to 
be  the  more  impressive.  "  So  just,  that,  but  for  my  knowing 
Miss  Pinch  to  be  an  unprotected  young  person,  an  orphan, 
and  without  friends,  I  would,  as  I  assured  Miss  Pinch,  upon 
my  veracity  and  personal  character,  a  few  minutes  ago,  I 
would  have  severed  the  connection  between  us  at  that  mo- 
ment and  from  that  time." 

"  Bless  my  soul,  sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  rising  from  his  seat,  for 
he  was  now  unable  to  contain  himself  any  longer  !  "  don't  allow 
such  considerations  as  those  to  influence  you,  pray.  They 
don't  exist,  sir.  She  is  not  unprotected.  She  is  ready  to  de- 
part this  instant.      Ruth,  my  dear,  get  your  bonnet  on  !  " 

"  Oh,  a  pretty  family  !  "  cried  the  lady.  "  Oh,  he's  her 
brother  !      There's  no  doubt  about  that !  " 

"As  little  doubt,  madam,"  said  Tom,  "  as  that  the  young 
lady  yonder  is  the  child  of  your  teaching,  and  not  my  sister's. 
Ruth,  my  dear,  get  your  bonnet  on  !  " 

"When  you  say,  young  man,"  interposed  the  brass-and- 
copper  founder,  haughtily,  "  with  that  impertinence  which  is 
natural  to  you,  and  which  I  therefore  do  not  condescend  to 
notice  further,  that  the  young  lady,  my  eldest  daughter,  has 
been  educated  by  any  one  but  Miss  Pinch,  you — I  needn't 
proceed.  You  comprehend  me  fully.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
are  used  to  it." 

"  Sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  after  regarding  him  in  silence  for  some 
little  time.  "  If  you  do  not  understand  what  I  mean,  I  will 
tell  you.  If  you  do  understand  what  I  mean,  I  beg  you  not 
to  repeat  that  mode  of  expressing  yourself  in  answer  to  it.  My 
meaning  is,  that  no  man  can  expect  his  children  to  respect 
what  he  degrades." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  gentleman.  "  Cant !  cant ! 
The  common  cant !  " 

"  The  common  story,  sir  !  "  said  Tom  ;  "  the  story  of  a 
common  mind.     Your  governess  cannot  win  the  confidence 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


573 


and  respect  of  your  children,  forsooth  !  Let  her  begin  by  win- 
ning yours,  and  see  what  happens  then." 

"Miss  Pinch  is  getting  her  bonnet  on,  I  trust,  my  dear?  " 
said  the  gentleman. 

"I  trust  she  is,"  said  Tom,  forestalling  the  reply.  "I 
have  no  doubt  she  is.  In  the  meantime  I  address  myself  to 
you,  sir.  You  made  your  statement  to  me,  sir  ;  you  required 
to  see  me  for  that  purpose  ;  and  I  have  a  right  to  answer  it. 
I  am  not  loud  or  turbulent,"  said  Tom,  \Vhich  was  quite  true, 
"  though  I  can  scarcely  say  as  much  for  you,  in  your  manner 
of  addressing  yourself  to  me.  And  I  wish,  on  my  sister's 
behalf,  to  state  the  simple  truth." 

"  You  mav  state  anvthing  vou  like,  young  man,"  returned 

V  ^  cry     J  ^    J  <~p  ^ 

the  gentleman,  affecting  to  yawn.  "  My  dear,  Miss  Pinch's 
money." 

"  When  yeu  tell  me,"  resumed  Tom,  who  was  not  the  less 
indignant  for  keeping  himself  quiet,  "  that  my  sister  has  no 
innate  power  of  commanding  the  respect  of  your  children, 
I  must  tell  you  it  is  not  so  ;  and  that  she  has.  She  is  as  well 
bred,  as  well  taught,  as  well  qualified  by  nature  to  command 
respect,  as  any  hirer  of  a  governess  you  know.  But  when 
you  place  her  at  a  disadvantage  in  reference  to  every  servant 
in  your  house,  how  can  you  suppose,  if  you  have  the  gift  of 
common  sense,  that  she  is  not  in  a  tenfold  worse  position  in 
reference  to  your  daughters  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well !  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  the  gentleman, 
"  this  is  pretty'  well !  " 

"  It  is  very  ill,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  It  is  very  bad  and  mean, 
and  wrong  and  cruel.  Respect  !  I  believe  young  people  are 
quick  enough  to  observe  and  imitate  ;  and  why  or  how  should 
they  respect  whom  no  one  else  respects,  and  everybody 
slights  .''  And  very  partial  they  must  grow — oh,  very  partial  ! 
• — to  their  studies,  when  they  see  to  what  a  pass  proficiency  in 
those  same  tasks  has  brought  their  governess  !  Respect ! 
Put  anything  the  most  deserving  of  respect  before  your  daugh- 
ters in  the  light  in  which  you  place  her,  and  you  will  bring  it 
down  as  low,  no  matter  what  it  is  !  " 

"You  speak  with  extreme  impertinence,  young  man,"  ob- 
served the  gentleman. 

"I  speak  without  passion,  but  with  extreme  indignation 
and  contempt  for  such  a  course  of  treatment,  and  for  all  who 
practise  it,"  said  Tom.  "  why,  how  can  you,  as  an  honest 
gentleman,  profess  displeasure  or  surprise   at  your  daughter 


574 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


telling  my  sister  she  is  something  beggarly  and  humble,  wlien 
you  are  for  ever  telling  her  the  same  thing  yourself  in  fifty 
plain,  out-speaking  ways,  though  not  in  words  ;  and  when 
your  very  porter  and  footman  make  the  same  delicate  an- 
nouncement to  all  comers  ?  As  to  your  suspicion  and  distrust 
of  her,  even  of  her  word,  if  she  is  not  above  their  reacn,  you 
have  no  right  to  employ  her." 

"  No  right !  "  cried  the  brass-and-copper  founder. 

"  Distinctly  not,""  Tom  answered.  "  If  you  imagine  that 
the  payment  of  an  annual  sum  of  money  gives  it  to  you,  you 
immensely  exaggerate  its  power  and  value.  Your  money  is 
the  least  part  of  your  bargain  in  such  a  case.  You  may  be 
punctual  in  that  to  half  a  second  on  the  clock,  and  yet  be 
Bankrupt.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  said  Tom,  much 
flushed  and  flustered,  now  that  it  was  over,  "  except  to  crave 
permission  to  stand  in  your  garden  until  my  sister  is  ready." 

Not  waiting  to  obtain  it,  Tom  walked  out. 

Before  he  had  well  begun  to  cool,  his  sister  joined  him. 
She  was  crying ;  and  Tom  could  not  bear  that  any  one  about 
the  house  would  see  her  doing  that. 

"They  will  think  you  are  sorry  to  go,"  said  Tom.  "You 
are  not  sorry  to  go  ?  " 

"  No,  Tom,  no.  I  have  been  anxious  to  go  for  a  very 
long  time." 

"  Very  well,  then  !     Don't  cry  !  "  said  Tom. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  iox  you,  dear,"  sobbed  Tom's  sister. 

"  But  you  ought  to  be  glad  on  my  account,"  said  Tom.  "  I 
shall  be  twice  as  happy  with  you  for  a  companion.  Hold  up 
your  head.  There  t  Now  we  go  out  as  we  ought.  Not  blus- 
tering, you  know,  but  firm  and  confident  in  ourselves." 

The  idea  of  Tom  and  his  sister  blustering,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, was  a  splendid  absurdity.  But  Tom  was  \-ery  far 
from  feeling  it  to  be  so,  in  his  excitement  ;  and  passed  out  at 
the  gate  with  such  severe  determination  written  in  his  face  that 
the  porter  hardly  knew  him  again. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  walked  some  short  distance,  and 
Tom  found  himself  getting  cooler  and  more  collected,  that  he 
was  quite  restored  to  himself  by  an  inquiry  from  his  sister, 
who  said  in  her  pleasant  little  voice  : 

"Where  are  we  going,  Tom.''  " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Tom,  stopping,  "  I  don't  know." 

"  Don't  you — don't  you  live  anywhere,  dear  ?  "  asked 
Tom's  sister,  looking  wistfully  in  his  face. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT. 


575 


"  No,"  said  Tom.  "  Not  at  present.  Not  exactly.  I  only 
arrived  this  morning.     We  must  have  some  lodgings." 

He  didn't  tell  her  that  he  had  been  going  to  stay  with  his 
friend  John,  and  could  on  no  account  think  of  billeting  two 
inmates  upon  him,  of  whom  one  was  a  young  lady ;  for  he 
knew  that  would  make  her  uncomfortable,  and  would  cause 
her  to  regard  herself  as  being  an  inconvenience  to  him.  Nei- 
ther did  he  like  to  leave  her  anywhere  while  he  called  on  John, 
and  told  him  of  this  change  in  his  arrangements  ;  for  he  Avas 
delicate  of  seeming  to  encroach  upon  the  generous  and  hospi- 
table nature  of  his  friend.  Therefore  he  said  again,  "  We 
must  have  some  lodgings,  of  course ; "  and  said  it  as  stoutly 
as  if  he  had  been  a  perfect  Directory  and  Guide-Book  to  all 
the  lodgings  in  London. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  and  look  for  'em  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  What 
do  you  think  ?  " 

Tom's  sister  was  not  much  wiser  on  such  a  topic  than  he 
was.  So  she  squeezed  her  little  purse  into  his  coat-pocket, 
and  folding  the  little  hand  with  which  she  did  so  on  the  other 
little  hand  with  which  she  clasped  his  arm,  said  nothing. 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  cheap  neighborhood,"  said  Tom,  "  and 
not  too  far  from  London.  Let  me  see.  Should  you  think 
Islington  a  good  place  ?  " 

"I  should  think  it  was  an  excellent  place,  Tom." 

"  It  used  to  be  called  Merry  Islington,  once  upon  a  time," 
said  Tom.  "  Perhaps  it's  merry  now  ;  if  so,  it's  all  the  better. 
Eh  ?  " 

"  If  it's  not  too  dear,"  said  Tom's  sister. 

"  Of  course,  if  it's  not  too  dear,"  assented  Tom.  "  Well, 
where  is  Islington  ?  W^e  can't  do  better  than  go  there,  I 
should  think.     Let's  go. 

Tom's  sister  would  have  gone  anywhere  with  him  ;  so  they 
walked  off,  arm  in  arm,  as  comfortably  as  possible.  Finding, 
presently,  that  Islington  was  not  in  that  neighborhood,  Tom 
made  inquiries  respecting  a  public  conveyance  thither,  which 
they  soon  obtained.  As  they  rode  along  they  were  very  full  of 
conversation  indeed,  Tom  relating  what  had  happened  to  him, 
and  Tom's  sister  relating  what  had  happened  to  her,  and  both 
finding  a  great  deal  more  to  say  than  time  to  say  it  in  ;  for 
they  had  only  just  begun  to  talk,  in  comparison  with  what  they 
had  to  tell  each  other,  when  they  reached  their  journey's  end. 

"  Now,"  said  Tom,  "  we  must  first  look  out  for  some  very  un- 
pretending streets,  and  then  look  out  for  bills  in  the  windows." 


576 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


So  they  walked  off  again,  quite  as  happily  as  if  they  had 
just  stepped  out  of  a  snug  little  house  of  their  own,  to  look 
for  lodgings  on  account  of  somebody  else.  Tom's  simplicity 
was  unabated.  Heaven  knows  ;  but  now  that  he  had  somebody 
to  rely  upon  him,  he  was  stimulated  to  rely  a  little  more  upon 
himself,  and  was,  in  his  own  opinion,  quite  a  desperate  fellow. 

After  looking  up  and  down  for  hours,  looking  at  some 
scores  of  lodgings,  they  began  to  find  it  rather  fatiguing,  es- 
pecially as  they  saw  none  which  were  at  all  adapted  to  their 
purpose.  At  length,  however,  in  a  singular  little  old-fashioned 
house,  up  a  blind  street,  they  discovered  two  small  bed-rooms 
and  a  triangular  parlor,  which  promised  to  suit  them  well 
enough.  Their  desiring  to  take  possession  immediately  was 
a  suspicious  circumstance,  but  even  this  was  surmounted  by 
the  payment  of  their  first  week's  rent,  and  a  reference  to 
John  Westlock,  Esquire,  Furnival's  Inn,  High  Holborn. 

Ah  !  It  was  a  goodly  sight,  when  this  important  point  was 
settled,  to  behold  Tom  and  his  sister  trotting  round  to  the 
baker's,  and  the  butcher's,  and  the  grocer's,  with  a  kind  of 
dreadful  delight  in  the  unaccustomed  cares  of  housekeeping  ; 
taking  secret  counsel  together  as  they  gave  their  small  orders, 
and  distracted  by  the  least  suggestion  on  the  part  of  the  shop- 
keeper !  When  they  got  back  to  the  triangular  parlor,  and 
Tom's  sister,  bustling  to  and  fro,  busy  about  a  thousand 
pleasant  nothings,  stopped  every  now  and  then  to  give  old 
Tom  a  kiss,  or  smile  upon  him,  Tom  rubbed  his  hands  as  if 
all  Islington  were  his. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  now,  though,  and  high  time 
for  Tom  to  keep  his  appointment.  So,  after  agreeing  with  his 
sister  that  in  considei'ation  of  not  having  dined,  they  would 
venture  on  the  extravagance  of  chops  for  supper,  at  nine,  he 
Avalked  out  again  to  narrate  these  marvellous  occurrences  to 
John. 

"  I  am  quite  a  family  man  all  at  once,"  thought  Tom.  "  If 
I  can  only  get  something  to  do,  how  comfortable  Ruth  and  I 
may  be  !  Ah,  that  if !  But  it's  of  no  use  to  despond.  I  can 
but  do  that,  when  I  have  tried  everything  and  failed  ;  and 
e\-en  then  it  won't  ser\'e  me  much.  Upon  my  word,"  thought 
Tom,  quickening  his  pace,  "  I  don't  know  what  John  will 
think  has  become  of  me.  He'll  begin  to  be  afraid  I  have 
strayed  into  one  of  those  streets  where  the  countrymen  are 
murdered  ;  and  that  I  have  been  made  meat  pies  of,  or  some 
such  horrible  thing." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWn. 


577 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

TOM  PINCH,  GOING  ASTRAY,  FINDS  THAT  HE  IS  NOT  THE 
ONLY  PERSON  IN  THAT  PREDICAMENT.  HE  RETALIATES 
UPON    A    FALLEN    FOE. 

Tom's  evil  genius  did  not  lead  him  into  tlie  dens  of  any  of 
those  preparers  of  cannibalic  pastr)',  who  are  represented  in 
many  standard  country  legends,  as  doing  a  lively  retail  busi- 
ness in  the  Metropolis  ;  nor  did  it  mark  him  out  as  the  prey 
of  ring-droppers,  pea  and  thimble-riggers,  duffers,  touters,  or 
any  of  those  bloodless  sharpers,  who  are,  perhaps,  a  little  better 
known  to  the  -Police.  He  fell  into  conversation  with  no  gen- 
tleman, who  took  him  into  a  public-house,  where  there  hap- 
pened to  be  another  gentleman,  who  swore  he  had  more  money 
than  any  gentleman,  and  very  soon  proved  he  had  more  money 
than  one  gentleman,  by  taking  his  away  from  him  ;  neither  did 
he  fall  into  any  other  of  the  numerous  man-traps  which  are 
set  up,  without  notice,  in  the  public  grounds  of  this  city 
But  he  lost  his  way.  He  very  soon  did  that ;  and  in  trj'ing  to 
find  it  again,  he  lost  it  more  and  more. 

Now,  Tom,  in  his  guileless  distrust  of  London,  thought 
himself  very  knowing  in  coming  to  the  determination  that  he 
would  not  ask  to  be  directed  to  Furnival's  Inn,  if  he  could 
help  it;  unless,  indeed,  he  should  find  himself  near  the  Mint, 
or  the  Bank  of  England  ;  in  which  case,  he  would  step  in, 
and  ask  a  civil  question  or  two,  confiding  in  the  perfect  re- 
spectability of  the  concern.  So,  on  he  went,  looking  up  all 
the  streets  he  came  near,  and  going  up  half  of  them  ;  and 
thus,  by  dint  of  not  being  true  to  Goswell  Street,  and  filing  off 
into  Aldermanbury,  and  bewildering  himself  in  Barbican, 
and  being  constant  to  the  wrong  point  of  the  compass  in  Lon- 
don Wall,  and  then  getting  himself  crosswise  into  Thames 
Street  by  an  instinct  that  would  have  been  marvellous  if  he 
had  had  the  least  desire  or  reason  to  go  there,  he  found  him- 
self, at  last,  hard  by  the  Monument. 

The  Man  in  the  Monument  was  quite  as  mysterious  a 
being  to  Tom  as  the  Man  in  the  Moon.  It  immediately  oc- 
curred to  him  that  the  lonely  creature  who  held  himself  aloof 
from  all  mankind  in  that  pillar  like  some  old  hermit,  was  the 

37 


tjyS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

very  man  of  whom  to  ask  his  way.  Cold,  he  might  be  ;  little 
sympathy  he  had,  perhaps,  with  human  passion — the  column 
seemed  too  tall  for  that ;  but  if  truth  didn't  live  in  the  base  of 
the  Monument,  notwithstanding  Pope's  couplet  about  the  out- 
side of  it,  where  in  London  (Tom  thought)  was  she  likely  to 
be  found ! 

Coming  close  below  the  pillar,  it  was  a  great  encourage- 
ment to  Tom  to  find  that  the  Man  in  the  Monument  had  sim- 
ple tastes  ;  that  stony  and  artificial  as  his  residence  was,  he 
still  preserved  some  rustic  recollections  ;  that  he  liked  plants, 
hung  up  bird-cages,  was  not  wholly  cut  off  from  fresh  ground- 
sel, and  kept  young  trees  in  tubs.  The  Man  in  the  Monu- 
ment, himself,  was  sitting  outside  the  door — his  own  door  : 
the  Monument-door  :  what  a  grand  idea  ! — and  was  actually 
yawning,  as  if  there,  were  no  Monument  to  stop  his  mouth, 
and  give  him  a  perpetual  interest  in  his  own  existence. 

Tom  was  advancing  towards  this  remarkable  creature,  to 
inquire  the  way  to  Furnival's  Inn,  when  two  people  came  to 
see  the  Monument.  They  were  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  ;  and 
the  gentleman  said,  "  How  much  a-piece  ?  " 

'riie  Man  in  the  Monument  replied,  "  A  Tanner.' 

It  seemed  a  low  expression,  compared  with  the  Monu- 
ment. 

The  gentleman  put  a  shilling  into  his  hand,  and  the  Man 
in  the  Monument  opened  a  dark  little  door.  When  the  gen- 
tleman and  lady  had  passed  out  of  view,  he  shut  it  again,  and 
came  slowly  back  to  his  chair. 

He  sat  down  and  laua;hed. 

"  They  don't  know  what  a  many  steps  there  is  !  "  he  said. 
"  It's  worth  twice  the  money  to  stop  here.     Oh,  my  eye  !  " 

The  Man  in  the  Monument  was  a  Cynic  ;  a  worldly  man  ! 
Tom  couldn't  ask  his  way  of  him.  He  was  prepared  to  put 
no  confidence  in  anything  he  said. 

"  My  Gracious  !  "  cried  a  well-known  voice  behind  Mr. 
Pinch.     "Why,  to  be  sure  it  is  !  " 

At  the  same  time  he  was  poked  in  the  back  by  a  parasol. 
Turning  round  to  inquire  into  this  salute,  he  beheld  the 
eldest  daughter  of  his  late  patron. 

"  Miss  Pecksniff  !  "  said  Tom. 

"•Why,  my  goodness,  Mr.  Pinch! "cried  Cherry.  "What 
are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I    have    rather    wandered   from    my   way,"   said   Tom. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


579 


"  I  hope  you  have  run  away,"  said  Charity.  "  It  would 
be  quite  spirited  and  proper  if  you  had,  when  my  Papa  so  far 
forgets  himself." 

"I  have  left  him,"  returned  Tom.  "But  it  was  perfectly 
understood  on  both  sides.     It  was  not  done  clandestinely." 

"  Is  he  married  ?  "  asked  Cherry,  with  a  spasmodic  shake 
of  her  chin. 

"No,  not  yet,"  said  Tom,  coloring:  "to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  don't  think  he  is  likely  to  be,  if — if  Miss  Graham  is 
the  object  of  his  passion." 

"  Tcha,  Mr.  i'mch !  "  cried  Charity,  with  sharp  impatience, 
"  you're  very  easily  deceived.  You  don't  know  the  arts  of 
which  such  a  creature  is  capable.     Oh  !  it's  a  wicked  world." 

"  You  are  not  married  ?  "  Tom  hinted,  to  divert  the  con- 
versation. 

"  N — no  !  "  said  Cherry,  tracing  out  one  particular  pav- 
ing stone  in  Monument  Yard  with  the  end  of  her  parasol. 
"  I— but  really  it's  quite  impossible  to  explain.  Won't  you 
walk  in  ?  " 

"  You  live  here,  then  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  pointing  with  her  parasol 
to  Todgers's ;  "  I  reside  with  this  lady,  at  present.'' 

The  great  stress  on  the  two  last  words  suggested  to  Tom 
that  he  was  expected  to  say  something  in  reference  to  them. 
So  he  said  : 

"  Only  at  present !     Are  you  going  home  again,  soon  .''  " 

"No,' Mr.  Pinch,"  returned  Charity.  "No,  thank  you. 
No  !  A  mother-in-law  who  is  younger  than — I  mean  to  say, 
who  is  as  nearly  as  possible  about  the  same  age  as  one's  self, 
would  not  quite  suit  my  spirit.  Not  quite  !  "  said  Cherry 
with  a  spiteful  shiver. 

"  I  thought  from  your  saying  at  present  " — Tom  observed. 

"  Really  upon  my  word  !  1  had  no  idea  you  would  press 
me  so  very  closely  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Charity, 
blushing,  "  or  I  should  not  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  allude 
to — Oh  really  ! — won't  you  walk  in  ?  " 

Tom  mentioned,  to  excuse  himself,  that  he  had  an  appoint- 
ment in  Furnival's  Inn,  and  that  coming  from  Islington  he 
had  taken  a  few  wrong  turnings,  and  arrived  at  the  Monu- 
ment instead.  Miss  Pecksniff  simpered  very  much  when  he 
asked  her  if  she  knew  the  way  to  Furnival's  Inn,  and  at 
length  found  courage  to  reply  : 

"  A  gentleman  who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  or  at  least  who  is 


58o 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT. 


not  exactly  a  friend  so  much  as  a  sort  of  acquaintance — Oh, 
upon  my  word,  I  hardly  know  what  I  say,  Mr.  Pinch  ;  you 
mustn't  suppose  there  is  any  engagement  between  us ;  or  at 
least  if  there  is,  that  it  is  at  all  a  settled  thing  as  yet — is 
going  to  Furnival's  Inn  immediately,  I  believe  upon  a  little 
business,  and  I  am  sure  he  would  be  very  glad  to  accompany 
you,  so  as  to  prevent  your  going  wrong  again.  You  had 
better  walk  in.  You  will  very  likely  find  my  sister  Merry 
here,"  she  said,  with  a  curious  toss  of  her  head,  and  anything 
but  an  agreeable  smile. 

"  Then,  I  think,  I'll  endeavor  to  find  my  way  alone,"  said 
Tom  ;  "for  I  fear  she  would  not  be  very  glad  to  see  me. 
That  unfortunate  occurrence,  in  relation  to  which  you  and  I 
had  some  amicable  Avords  together,  in  private,  is  not  likely 
to  have  impressed  her  with  any  friendly  feeling  towards  me. 
Though  it  really  was  not  my  fault." 

"  She  has  never  heard  of  that,  you  may  depend,"  said 
Cherry,  gathering  up  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  nodding 
at  Tom.  "  I  am  far  from  sure  that  she  would  bear  you  any 
mighty  ill  will  for  it,  if  she  had." 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  "  cried  Tom,  who  was  really  concerned 
by  this  insinuation. 

"  I  say  nothing,"  said  Charity.  "  If  I  had  not  already 
known  what  shocking  things  treachery  and  deceit  are  in 
themselves,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  might  perhaps  have  learnt  it  from  the 
success  they  meet  with — from  the  success  they  meet  with." 
Here  she  smiled  as  before.  "  But  I  don't  say  anything. 
On  the  contrary,  I  should  scorn  it.     You  had  better  walk  in  !  " 

There  was  something  hidden  here,  which  piqued  Tom's 
interest  and  troubled  his  tender  heart.  When,  in  a  moment's 
irresolution,  he  looked  at  Charity,  he  could  not  but  observe  a 
struggle  in  her  face  between  a  sense  of  triumph  and  a  sense 
of  shame  ;  nor  could  he  but  remark  how,  meeting  even  his 
eyes,  which  she  cared  so  little  for,  she  turned  away  her  own, 
for  all  the  splenetic  defiance  in  her  manner. 

An  uneasy  thought  entered  Tom's  head  ;  a  shadowy  mis- 
giving that  the  altered  relations  between  himself  and  Peck- 
sniff, were  somehow  to  involve  an  altered  knowledge  on  his 
part  of  other  people,  and  were  to  give  him  an  insight  into 
much  of  which  he  had  had  no  previous  suspicion.  And  yet 
he  put  no  definite  construction  upon  Charity's  proceedings, 
lie  certainly  had  no  idea  that  as  he  had  been  the  audience 
and  spectator  of  her  mortification,  she  grasped  with  eager 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  581 

delight  at  any  opportunity  of  reproaching  her  sister  with  his 
presence  in  her  far  deeper  misery  ;  for  he  knew  nothing  of  it, 
and  only  pictured  that  sister  as  tiie  same  giddy,  careless, 
trivial  creature  she  always  had  been,  with  the  same  slight 
estimation  of  himself  which  she  had  never  been  at  the  least 
pains  to  conceal.  In  short,  he  had  merely  a  confused  im- 
pression that  Miss  Pecksniff  was  not  quite  sisterly  or  kind  \ 
and  being  curious  to  set  it  right,  accompanied  her,  as  she 
desired. 

The  house-door  being  opened,  she  went  in  before  Tom,  re- 
questing him  to  follow  her  ;  and  led  the  way  to  the  parlor  door. 

"  Oh,  Merry  !  "  she  said,  looking  in,  "  I  am  so  glad  you 
have  not  gone  home.  Who  do  you  think  I  have  met  in  the 
street,  and  brought  to  see  you  !  Mr.  Pinch  !  There.  Now 
you  are  surprised,  I  am  sure  I  " 

Not  more  surprised  than  Tom  was,  when  he  looked  upon 
her.     Not  so  much.     Not  half  so  much. 

"  Mr.  Pinch  has  left  Papa,  my  dear,"  said  Cherry,  "  and 
his  prospects  are  quite  flourishing.  I  have  promised  that 
Augustus,  who  is  going  that  way,  shall  escort  him  to  the 
place  he  wants.     Augustus,  my  child,  where  are  you .''  " 

With  these  words  Miss  Pecksniff  screamed  her  way  out  of 
the  parlor,  calling  on  Augustus  Moddle  to  appear ;  and  left 
Tom  Pinch  alone  with  her  sister. 

If  she  had  always  been  his  kindest  friend  ;  if  she  had 
treated  him  through  all  his  servitude  with  such  consideration 
as  was  never  yet  received  by  struggling  man  ;  if  she  had 
lightened  every  moment  of  those  many  years,  and  had  ever 
spared  and  never  wounded  him  ;  his  honest  heart  could  not 
have  swelled  before  her  with  a  deeper  pity,  or  a  purer  freedom 
from  all  base  remembrance  than  it  did  then. 

"  My  gracious  me !  You  are  really  the  last  person  in  the 
world  I  should  have  thought  of  seeing,  I  am  sure  ! " 

Tom  was  sorry  to  hear  her  speaking  in  her  old  man- 
ner. He  had  not  expected  that.  Yet  he  did  not  feel  it  a 
contradiction  that  he  should  be  sorry  to  see  her  so  unlike  her 
old  self,  and  sorry  at  the  same  time  to  hear  her  speaking  in 
her  old  manner.     The  two  things  seemed  quite  natural. 

"  I  wonder  you  find  any  gratification  in  coming  to  see  me. 
I  can't  think  what  put  it  in  your  head.  I  never  had  much  in 
seeing  you.  There  was  no  love  lost  between  us,  Mr.  Pinch, 
at  any  time,  I  think." 

Her  bonnet  lay  beside  her  on  the  sofa,  and  she  was  verj 


582 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


busy  with  the  ribbons  as  she  spoke.  Much  too  busy  to  be 
conscious  of  the  woik  lier  fingers  did. 

"We  never  quarrelled,"  said  Tom. — Tom  was  right  in 
that,  for  one  person  can  no  more  quarrel  without  an  adver- 
sary, than  one  person  can  play  at  chess,  or  fight  a  duel.  "  I 
hoped  you  would  be  glad  to  shake  hands  with  an  old  friend. 
Don't  let  us  rake  up  by-gones,"  said  Tom.  "  If  ever  I 
offended  you,  forgive  me." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment ;  dropped  her  bonnet 
from  her  hands ;  spread  them  before  her  altered  face  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Pinch !  "  she  said,  "  although  I  never  used  you 
well,  I  did  believe  your  nature  was  forgiving.  I  did  not  think 
you  could  be  cmel." 

She  spoke  as  little  like  her  old  self  now,  for  certain,  as 
Tom  could  possibly  have  wished.  But  she  seemed  to  be  ap- 
pealing to  him  reproachfully,  and  he  did  not  understand  her. 

"  I  seldom  showed  it — never — I  know  that.  But  I  had 
that  belief  in  you,  that  if  I  had  been  asked  to  name  the  person 
in  the  world  least  likely  to  retort  upon  me,  I  would  have 
named  you,  confidently." 

"  Would  have  named  me  !  "  Tom  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  with  energ}',  "  and  I  have  often  thought 


so." 


After  a  moment's  reflection,  Tom  sat  himself  upon  a  chair 
beside  her. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  said  Tom,  "  oh  can  you  think,  that  what 
I  said  just  now,  I  said  with  any  but  the  true  and  plain  inten- 
tion which  my  words  professed .'  I  mean  it,  in  the  spirit  and 
the  letter.  If  I  ever  offended  you,  forgive  me ;  I  may  have 
done  so,  many  times.  You  never  injured  or  offended  me. 
How,  then,  could  I  possibly  retort,  if  even  I  were  stern  and 
bad  enough  to  wish  to  do  it  !  " 

After  a  little  while  she  thanked  him,  through  her  tears  and 
sobs,  and  told  him  she  had  never  been  at  once  so  sorry  and  so 
comforted,  since  she  left  home.  Still  she  wept  bitterly  ;  and 
it  was  the  greater  pain  to  Tom  to  see  her  weening,  from  her 
standing  in  especial  need,  just  then,  of  synij  athy  and  tender- 
ness. 

"Come,  come  !  "  said  Tom,  "you  used  to  be  as  cheerful 
as  the  day  was  long." 

"Ah!  used!"  she  cried,  in  such  a  tone  as  rent  Tom's 
heart. 


AfAI^  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  583 

"And  will  be  again,"  said  Tom. 

"  No,  never  more.  No,  never,  never  more.  If  you  should 
talk  with  old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  at  any  time,"  she  added  looking 
hurriedly  into  his  face — "  I  sometimes  thought  he  liked  you, 
but  suppressed  it — will  you  promise  me  to  tell  him  that  you 
saw  me  here,  and  that  1  said  I  bore  in  mind  the  time  we 
talked  together  in  the  churchyard .-'  " 

Tom  promised  that  he  would. 

"  Many  times  since  then,  when  I  have  wished  I  had  been 
carried  there  before  that  day,  I  have  recalled  his  words.  I 
wish  that  he  should  know  how  true  they  were,  although  the 
least  acknowledgment  to  that  effect  has  never  passed  my  lips, 
and  never  will." 

Tom  promised  this,  conditionally,  too.  He  did  not  tell 
her  how  improbable  it  was  that  he  and  the  old  man  would 
ever  meet  again,  because  he  thought  it  might  disturb  her 
more. 

"  If  he  should  ever  know  this,  through  your  means,  dear 
Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mercy,  "  tell  him  that  I  sent  the  message, 
not  for  myself,  but  that  he  might  be  more  forbearing  and 
more  patient,  and  more  trustful  to  some  other  person,  in  some 
other  time  of  need.  Tell  him  that  if  he  could  know  how  my 
heart  trembled  in  the  balance  that  day,  and  what  a  very  little 
would  have  turned  the  scale,  his  own  would  bleed  with  pity 
for  me," 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Tom,  "I  will." 

"  When  I  appeared  to  him  the  most  unworthy  of  his  help, 
I  was — I  know  I  was,  for  I  have  often,  often,  thought  about 
it  since — the  most  inclined  to  yield  to  what  he  showed  me. 
Oh  !  if  he  had  relented  but  a  little  more  ;  if  he  had  thrown 
himself  in  my  way  for  but  one  other  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  if  he 
had  extended  his  compassion  for  a  vain,  unthinking,  miserable 
girl,  in  but  the  least  degree  ;  he  might,  and  I  believe  he  would, 
have  saved  her !  Tell  him  that  I  don't  blame  him,  but  am 
grateful  for  the  effort  that  he  made  ;  but  ask  him  for  the  love 
of  God,  and  youth,  and  in  merciful  consideration  for  the 
struggle  which  an  ill-advised  and  unawakened  nature  makes 
to  hide  the  strength  it  thinks  its  weakness — ask  him  never, 
never,  to  forget  this*  when  he  deals  with  one  again  !  " 

Although  Tom  did  not  hold  the  clue  to  her  full  meaning, 
he  could  guess  it  pretty  nearly.  Touched  to  the  quick,  he 
took  her  hand  and  said,  or  meant  to  say,  some  words  of  con- 
solation.    She  felt  and  understood  them,  whether  they  were 


584 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


spoken  or  no.  He  was  not  quite  certain,  afterwards,  but  that 
she  had  tried  to  kneel  down  at  his  feet,  and  bless  him. 

He  found  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the  room  when  she  had 
left  it.  Mrs.  Todgers  was  there,  shaking  her  head.  Tom  had 
never  seen  Mrs.  Todgers,  it  is  needless  to  say,  but  he  had  a 
perception  of  her  being  the  lady  of  the  house  ;  and  he  saw 
some  genuine  compassion  in  her  eyes,  that  won  his  good 
opinion. 

"  Ah,  sir !  You  are  an  old  friend,  I  see,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom. 

"And  yet,"  quoth  Mrs.  Todgers,  shutting  the  door  softly, 
"she  hasn't  told  you  what  her  troubles  are,  I'm  certain." 

Tom  was  struck  by  these  words,  for  they  were  quite  true. 
"  Indeed,"  he  said,  "  she  has  not." 

"  And  never  would,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "if  you  saw  her 
daily.  She  never  makes  the  least  complaint  to  me,  or  utters 
a  single  word  of  explanation  or  reproach.  But  I  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Todgers,  drawing  in  her  breath,  "/know." 

Tom  nodded  sorrowfully,  "  so  do  I." 

"  I  fully  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  taking  her  pocket- 
handkerchief  from  the  flat  reticule,  "  that  nobody  can  tell  one 
half  of  what  that  poor  young  creature  has  to  undergo.  But 
though  she  comes  here,  constantly,  to  ease  her  poor  full  heart 
without  his  knowing  it ;  and  saying,  '  Mrs.  Todgers,  I  am 
very  low  to-day  ;  I  think  that  1  shall  soon  be  dead,'  sits  cry- 
ing in  my  room  until  the  fit  is  past  ;  I  know  no  more  from 
her.  And  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  putting  back  her 
handkerchief  again,  "  that  she  considers  me  a  good  friend 
too." 

Mrs.  Todgers  mi<rht  have  said  her  best  friend.  Commer- 
cial  gentlemen  and  gravy  had  tried  Mrs.  Todgers's  temper  ; 
the  main  chance — it  was  such  a  very  small  one  in  her  case, 
that  she  might  have  been  excused  for  looking  sharp  after  it, 
lest  it  should  entirely  vanish  from  her  sight — had  taken  a  firm 
hold  on  Mrs.  Todgers's  attention.  But  in  some  odd  nook  in 
Mrs.  Todgers's  breast,  up  a  great  many  steps,  and  in  a  corner 
easy  to  be  overlooked,  there  was  a  secret  door,  with  "  Woman  " 
written  on  the  spring,  which,  at  a  touch  from  Mercy's  hand, 
had  flown  wide  open,  and  admitted  her  for  shelter. 

When  boarding-house  accounts  are  balanced  with  all  other 
ledgers,  and  the  books  of  the  Recording  Angel  are  made  up 
for  ever,  perhaps  there  may  be  seen  an  entry  to  thy  credit, 
lean  Mrs.  Todgers,  which  shall  make  thee  beautiful ! 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  5S5 

She  was  growing  beautiful  so  rapidly  in  Tom's  eyes  ;  for 
he  saw  that  she  was  poor,  and  that  this  good  had  sprung  up 
in  her  from  among  the  sordid  strivings  of  her  life  ;  that  she 
might  have  been  a  very  Venus  in  a  minute  more,  if  Miss 
Pecksniff  had  not  entered  with  her  friend. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Pinch  !  "  said  Charit}',  performing  the  cere- 
mony of  introduction  with  evident  pride.  "  Mr.  Moddle. 
Where's  my  sister  }  " 

"  Gone,  Miss  Pecksniff,"  Mrs.  Todgers  answered.  "  She 
had  appointed  to  be  home." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Charity,  looking  at  Tom.     "  Oh,  dear  me  !  " 

"  She's  greatly  altered  since  she's  been  Anoth — since  she's 
been  married,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  "  observed  Moddle. 

"  My  dear  Augustus  !  "  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  verily  believe  you  have  said  that  tifty  thousand  times,  in 
my  hearing.     What  a  Prose  you  are  !  " 

This  was  succeeded  by  some  trifling  love  passages,  which 
appeared  to  originate  with,  if  not  to  be  wholly  carried  on  by 
Miss  Pecksniff.  At  any  rate,  Mr.  Moddle  was  much  slower 
in  his  responses  than  is  customary  with  young  lovers,  and  ex- 
hibited a  lowness  of  spirits  which  was  quite  oppressive. 

He  did  not  improve  at  all  when  Tom  and  he  were  in  the 
streets,  but  sighed  so  dismally  that  it  was  dreadful  to  hear 
him.  As  a  means  of  cheering  him,  Tom  told  him  that  he 
wished  him  joy. 

"  Joy  !  "  cried  Moddle.     "  Ha,  ha  !  " 

"  What  an  extraordinary  young  man  !  "  thought  Tom. 

"The  Scorner  has  not  set  his  seal  upon  you.  You  care 
what  becomes  of  you  ?  "  said  Moddle. 

Tom  admitted  that  it  was  a  subject  in  which  he  certainly 
felt  some  interest. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Mr.  Moddle.  "  The  Elements  may  have 
me  when  they  please.     I'm  ready." 

Tom  inferred  from  these,  and  other  expressions  of  the 
the  same  nature,  that  he  was  jealous.  Therefore  he  allowed 
him  to  take  his  own  course  ;  which  was  such  a  gloomy  one, 
that  he  felt  a  load  removed  from  his  mind  when  they  parted 
company  at  the  gate  of  Furnival's  Inn. 

It  was  now  a  couple  of  hours  past  John  Westlock's  dinner- 
time ;  and  he  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  quite  anx- 
ious for  Tom's  safety.  The  table  was  spread  ;  the  wine  was 
carefully  decanted  ;  and  the  dinner  smelt  delicious. 

"  Why,  Tom,  old  boy,  where  on  earth  have  you  been  ? 


586 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Your  box  is  here.  Get  your  boots  off  instantly,  and  sit 
down  !  " 

"  1  am  sorry  to  say  I  can't  stay,  John,"  replied  Tom  Pinch, 
who  was  breathless  with  the  haste  he  had  made  in  running  up 
the  stairs. 

"  Can't  stay  !  " 

"If  you'll  go  on  with  your  dinner,"  said  Tom,  "  I'll  tell 
you  my  reason  the  while.  I  mustn't  eat  myself,  or  I  shall 
have  no  appetite  for  the  chops." 

"  There  are  no  chops  here,  my  good  fellow." 

"  No.     But  there  are  at  Islington,"  said  Tom. 

John  Westlock  was  perfectly  confounded  by  this  reply,  and 
vowed  he  would  not  touch  a  morsel  until  Tom  had  explained 
himself  fullv.  So  Tom  sat  down  and  told  him  all  ;  to  which 
he  listened  with  the  greatest  interest. 

He  knew  Tom  too  well,  and  respected  his  delicacy  too 
much,  to  ask  him  why  he  had  taken  these  measures  without 
communicating  with  him  first.  He  quite  concurred  in  the 
expediency  of  Tom's  immediately  returning  to  his  sister,  as 
he  knew  so  little  of  the  place  in  which  he  had  left  her  ;  and 
good-humoredly  proposed  to  ride  back  with  him  in  a  cab,  in 
which  he  might  convey  his  box.  Tom's  proposition  that  he 
should  sup  with  them  that  night,  he  flatly  rejected,  but  made 
an  appointment  with  him  for  the  morrow.  "  And  now,  Tom," 
he  said,  as  they  rode  along,  "  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you, 
to  which  I  expect  a  manly  and  straightforward  answer.  Do 
you  want  any  money  ?     I  am  pretty  sure  you  do." 

"  I  don't  indeed,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  believe  you  are  deceiving  me." 

"  No.  With  many  thanks  to  you,  I  am  quite  in  earnest," 
Tom  replied.  "  My  sister  has  some  money,  and  so  have  I.  If 
I  had  nothing  else,  John,  I  have  a  five-pound  note,  which  that 
good  creature,  Mrs.  Lupin,  of  the  Dragon,  handed  up  to  me 
outside  the  coach,  in  a  letter,  begging  me  to  borrow  it ;  and 
then  drove  off  as  hard  as  she  could  go." 

"  And  a  blessing  on  every  dimple  in  her  handsome  face, 
say  I  !  "  cried  John,  "  though  why  you  should  give  her  the 
preference  over  me,  I  don't  know.  Never  mind.  I  bide  my 
time,  Tom." 

"And  I  hope  you'll  continue  to  bide  it,"  returned  Tom, 
gayly,  "  For  I  owe  you  more,  already,  in  a  hundred  other 
ways,  than  I  can  ever  hope  to  pay." 

They  parted  at  the  door  of  Tom's  new  residence.     John 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  5S7 

Westlock,  sitting  in  tlie  cab,  and,  catching  a  glimpse  of  a 
blooming  little  busy  creature  darting  out  to  kiss  'J'om,  and  to 
help  him  with  his  box,  would  not  have  had  the  least  objection 
to  change  places  with  him. 

Well !  she  was  a  cheerful  little  thing  ;  and  had  a  quaint, 
bright  quietness  about  her,  that  was  infinitely  pleasant.  Surely 
she  was  the  best  sauce  for  chops  ever  invented.  The  potatoes 
seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  sending  up  their  grateful  steam 
before  her  ;  the  froth  upon  the  pint  of  porter  pouted  to  attract 
her  notice.  But  it  was  all  in  vain.  She  saw  nothing  but  Tom. 
Tom  was  the  first  and  last  thing  in  the  world. 

As  she  sat  opposite  to  Tom  at  supper,  fingering  one  of 
Tom's  pet  tunes  upon  the  table-cloth,  and  smiling  in  his  face, 
he  had  never  been  so  happy  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

SECRET    SERVICE. 


In  walking  from  the  City  with  his  sentimental  friend, 
Tom  Pinch  had  looked  into  the  face,  and  brushed  against  the 
threadbare  sleeve,  of  Mr.  Nadgett,  man  of  mystery  to  the 
Anolo-Beu'jjalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assurance  Com- 
pany.  Mr.  Nadgett  naturally  passed  away  from  Tom's  re- 
membrance as  he  passed  out  of  his  view  ;  for  he  didn't  know 
him,  and  had  never  heard  his  name. 

As  there  are  a  vast  number  of  people  in  the  huge  metrop- 
olis of  England  who  rise  up  every  morning,  not  knowing 
where  their  heads  will  rest  at  night,  so  tiiere  are  a  multitude 
who  shooting  arrows  over  houses  as  their  daily  business,  never 
know  on  whom  they  fall.  Mr.  Nadgett  might  have  passed 
Tom  Pinch  ten  thousand  times  ;  might  even  have  been  quite 
familiar  with  his  face,  his  name,  pursuits,  and  character  ;  yet 
never  once  have  dreamed  that  Tom  had  any  interest  in  any 
act  or  mystery  of  his.  Tom  might  have  done  the  like  by  him, 
of  course.  But  the  same  private  man  out  of  all  the  men  ali\e, 
was  in  the  mind  of  each  at  the  same  moment  ;  was  prominently 
connected,  though  in  a  different  manner,  with  the  day's  ad- 
ventures of  both  ;  and  formed,  when  they  passed  each  other 
in  the  street,  the  one  absorbing  topic  of  their  thoughts. 


588  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Why  Tom  had  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  in  his  mind  requires  no 
explanation.  Why  Mr.  Nadgett  should  have  had  Jonas  Chuz- 
zlewit in  his,  is  quite  another  thing. 

But,  somehow  or  other,  that  amiable  and  worthy  orphan 
had  become  a  part  of  the  mysteiy  of  Mr.  Nadgett's  existence. 
Mr.  Nadgett  took  an  interest  in  his  lightest  proceedings  ;  and 
it  never  flagged  or  wavered.  He  watched  him  in  and  out  of 
the  Assurance  Office,  where  he  was  now  formally  installed 
as  a  Director  ;  he  dogged  his  footsteps  in  the  streets  ;  he 
stood  listening  when  he  talked  ;  he  sat  in  coffee-rooms  enter- 
ing his  name  in  the  great  pocket-book,  over  and  over  again  ; 
he  wrote  letters  to  himself  about  him  constantly  ;  and  when 
he  found  them  in  his  pocket,  put  them  in  the  fire,  with  such 
distrust  and  caution  that  he  would  bend  down  to  watch  the 
crumpled  tinder  while  it  floated  upward,  as  if  his  mind  misgave 
him,  that  the  mystery  it  had  contained  might  come  out  at  the 
chimney-pot. 

And  yet  all  this  was  quite  a  secret.  Mr.  Nadgett  kept  it 
to  himself,  and  kept  it  close.  Jonas  had  no  more  idea  that 
Mr.  Nadgett's  eyes  were  flxed  on  him,  than  he  had  that  he 
was  living  under  the  daily  inspection  and  report  of  a  whole 
order  of  Jesuits.  Indeed  Mr.  Nadgett's  eyes  were  seldom 
fixed  on  any  other  objects  than  the  ground,  the  clock,  or  the 
fire  ;  but  every  button  on  his  coat  might  have  been  an  eye  ; 
he  saw  so  much. 

The  secret  manner  of  the  man  disarmed  suspicion  in  this 
wise  ;  suggesting,  not  that  he  was  watching  any  one,  but  that 
he  thought  some  other  man  was  watching  him.  He  went 
about  so  stealthily,  and  kept  himself  so  wrapped  up  in  him- 
self, that  the  whole  object  of  his  life  appeared  to  be,  to  avoid 
notice,  and  preserve  his  own  mystery.  Jonas  sometimes  saw 
him  in  the  street,  hovering  in  the  outer  office,  waiting  at  the 
door  for  the  man  who  never  came,  or  slinking  off  with  his 
immovable  face  and  drooping  head,  and  the  one  beaver  glove 
dangling  before  him  ;  but  he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of 
the  cross  upon  the  top  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  taking  note 
of  what  he  did,  or  slowly  winding  a  great  net  about  his  feet, 
as  of  Nadgett's  being  engaged  in  such  an  occupation. 

Mr.  Nadgett  made  a  mysterious  change  about  this  time  in 
his  rnysterious  life  ;  for  whereas  he  had,  until  now,  been  first 
seen  every  morning  coming  down  Cornhill,  so  exactly  like  the 
Nadgett  of  the  day  before,  as  to  occasion  a  popular  belief 
that  he  never  went  to  bed  or  took  his  clothes  off,  he  was  now 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  589 

first  seen  in  Holborn,  coming  out  of  Kingsgate  Street ;  and  it 
was  soon  discovered  that  he  actually  went  every  morning  to  a 
barber's  shop  in  that  street  to  get  shaved  ;  and  that  the  bar- 
ber's name  was  Sweedlepipe.  He  seemed  to  make  appoint- 
ments with  the  man  who  never  came,  to  meet  him  at  this  bar- 
ber's ;  for  he  would  frequently  take  long  spells  of  waiting  in 
the  shop,  and  would  ask  for  pen  and  ink,  and  pull  out  his 
pocket-book,  and  be  very  busy  over  it  for  an  hour  at  a  time. 
Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  had  many  deep  discoursings 
on  the  subject  of  this  mysterious  customer  ;  but  they  usually 
agreed  that  he  had  speculated  too  much  and  was  keeping  out 
of  the  way. 

He  must  have  appointed  the  man  who  never  kept  his  word, 
to  meet  him  at  another  new  place  too  ;  for  one  day  he  was 
found,  for  the  first  time,  by  the  waiter  at  the  Mourning  Coach- 
Horse,  the  House-of-call  for  Undertakers,  down  in  the  City 
there,  making  figures  with  a  pipe-stem  in  tlie  sawdust  of  a 
clean  spittoon  ;  and  declining  to  call  for  anything,  on  the 
ground  of  expecting  a  gentleman  presently.  As  the  gentleman 
was  not  honorable  enough  to  keep  his  engagement,  he  came 
again  next  day,  with  his  pocket-book  in  such  a  state  of  disten- 
tion that  he  was  regarded  in  the  bar  as  a  man  of  large  property. 
After  that,  he  repeated  his  visits  every  day,  and  had  so  much 
writing  to  do,  that  he  made  nothing  of  emptying  a  capacious 
leaden  inkstand  in  two  sittings.  Although  he  never  talked 
much,  still,  by  being  there  among  the  regular  customers,  he 
made  their  acquaintance  ;  and  in  course  of  time  became  quite 
intimate  with  Mr.  Tacker,  Mr.  Mould's  foreman  ;  and  even 
with  Mr.  Mould  himself,  who  openly  said  he  was  a  long-headed 
man,  a  dry  one,  a  salt  fish,  a  deep  file,  a  rasper  :  and  made 
him  the  subject  of  many  other  flattering  encomiums. 

At  the  same  time,  too,  he  told  the  people  at  the  Assurance 
Office,  in  his  own  mysterious  way,  that  there  was  something 
wrong  (secretly  wrong,  of  course)  iii  his  li\er,  and  that  he 
feared  he  must  put  himself  under  the  doctor's  hands.  He 
was  delivered  over  to  Jobling  upon  this  representation  ;  and 
though  Jobling  could  not  find  out  where  his  liver  was  wrong, 
wrong  Mr.  Nadgett  said  it  w^as  ;  observing  that  it  was  his  own 
liver  and  he  hoped  he  ought  to  know.  Accordinglv,  he  became 
Mr.  Jobling's  patient  ;  and  detailing  his  symptoms  in  his  slow 
and  secret  way,  was  in  and  out  of  that  gentleman's  room  a 
dozen  times  a  dny. 

As  he  pursued  all   these    occupations   at  once  ;   and  all 


59° 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Steadily  ;  and  all  secretly ;  and  never  slackened  in  his  watch- 
fulness of  everything  that  Mr,  Jonas  said,  and  did,  and  left  un- 
said and  undone  ;  it  is  not  improbable  that  they  were,  secretly, 
essential  parts  of  some  great  scheme  which  Mr.  Nadgett  had 
on  foot. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  this  very  day  on  which  so  much 
had  happened  to  Tom  Pinch,  that  Nadgett  suddenly  appeared 
before  Mr.  Montague's  house  in  Pall  Mall — he  always  made 
his  appearance  as  if  he  had  that  moment  come  up  a  trap — 
when  the  clocks  were  striking  nine.  He  rang  the  bell  in  a 
covert  under-handed  way,  as  though  it  were  a  treasonable  act  ; 
and  passed  in  at  the  door,  the  moment  it  was  opened  wide 
enou2;h  to  receive  his  body.  That  done,  he  shut  it  immediatly, 
with  his  own  hands. 

Mr.  Bailey,  taking  up  his  name  without  delay,  returned 
with  a  request  that  he  would  follow  him  into  his  master's 
chamber.  The  chairman  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested 
Loan  and  Life  Assurance  Board  was  dressing,  and  received 
him  as  a  business  person  who  was  often  backwards  and  for- 
wards, and  was  received  at  all  times  for  his  business'  sake. 

"Well,  Mr.  Nadgett?" 

Mr.  Nadgett  put  his  hat  upon  the  ground  and  coughed. 
The  boy  having  withdrawn  and  shut  the  door,  he  went  to  it 
sofdy,  examined  the  handle,  and  leturned  to  within  a  pace  or 
two  of  the  chair  in  which  Mr.  Montague  sat. 

"  Any  news,  Mr.  Nadgett  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  have  some  news  at  last,  sir." 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  it.  I  began  to  fear  you  were  off  the 
scent,  Mr.  Nadgett." 

"  No,  sir.  It  grows  cold  occasionally.  It  will  sometimes. 
We  can't  help  that." 

"  You  are  truth  itself,  Mr.  Nadgett.  Do  you  report  a  great 
success  .''  " 

"  That  depends  upon  your  judgment  and  construction  of 
it,"   was  his  answer,  as  he  put  on  his  spectacle  . 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  yourself.  Have  you  pleased 
yourself  .'' " 

Mr.  Nadgett  rubbed  his  hands  slowly,  stroked  his '  chin, 
looked  round  the  room,  and  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  think  it's  a 
good  case.  I  am  disposed  to  think  it's  a  good  case.  Will  you 
go  into  it  at  once .''  " 

"  By  all  means." 

Mr,  Nadgett  picked  out  a  certain  chair  from  among  the 


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MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


591 


rest,  and  having  planted  it  in  a  particular  spot,  as  carefully  as 
it  he  had  been  going  to  vault  over  it,  placed  another  chair  iti 
front  of  it ;  leaving  room  for  his  own  legs  between  them,  lie 
then  sat  down  in  chair  number  two,  and  laid  his  pocket-book, 
very  carefully,  on  chair  number  one.  He  then  untied  the 
pocket-book,  and  hung  the  string  o\er  the  back  of  chair  num- 
ber one.  He  then  drew  both  the  chairs  a  little  nearer  Mr. 
Montague,  and  opening  the  pocket-book  spread  out  its  con- 
tents. Finally  he  selected  a  certain  memorandum  from  the 
rest,  and  held  it  out  to  his  employer,  who,  during  the  whole 
of  these  preliminary  ceremonies,  had  been  making  violent 
efforts  to  conceal  his  impatience. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  so  fond  of  making  notes,  my  ex- 
cellent friend,"  said  Tigg  Montague  with  a  ghastly  smile.  "■  I 
wish  you  would  consent  to  gi\-e  me  their  purport  by  word  of 
mouth." 

"I  don't  like  word  of  mouth,"  said  Mr.  Nadgett  gravely. 
"We  never  know  who's  listening." 

Mr.  Montague  was  going  to  retort,  when  Nadgett  handed 
him  the  paper,  and  said,  with  quiet  exultation  in  his  tone, 
'•  We'll  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  take  that  one  first,  if  you 
please,  sir." 

The  chairman  cast  his  eyes  upon  it,  cold!}-,  and  with  a 
smile  which  did  not  render  any  great  homage  to  the  slow  and 
methodical  habits  of  his  spy.  But  he  had  not  read  half-a- 
dozen  lines  when  the  expression  of  his  face  began  to  change, 
and  before  he  had  finished  the  perusal  of  the  paper,  it  was  full 
of  grave  and  serious  attention. 

"  Number  Two,"  said  Mr.  Nadgett,  handing  him  another, 
and  receiving  back  the  first.  "  Read  Number  Two,  sir,  if  you 
please.     There  is  more  mterest  as  you  go  on." 

Tigg  Montague  leaned  backward  in  Ins  chair,  and  cast 
upon  his  emissaiy  such  a  look  of  vacant  wonder  (not  unmin- 
gled  with  alarm),  that  Mr.  Nadgett  considered  it  necessary  to 
repeat  the  request  he  had  already  twice  preferred  :  with  the 
view  of  recalling  his  attention  to  the  point  in  hand.  Profiting 
by  the  hint,  Mr.  Montague  went  on  with  Number  Two,  and 
afterwards  with  Numbers  Three,  and  Four,  and  Five,  and  so  on. 

These  documents  were  all  in  Mr.  Nadgett's  writing,  and 
were  apparently  a  series  of  memoranda,  jotted  down  from 
time  to  time  upon  the  backs  of  old  letters,  or  any  scrap  of 
paper  that  came  first  to  hand.  Loose  straggling  scrawls  they 
were,  and  of  very  uninviting  exterior  ;  but  they  had  we^gh*/ 


592 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


purpose  in  them,  if  the  chairman's  face  were  any  index  to  the 
character  of  their  contents. 

The  progress  of  Mr.  Nadgett's  secret  satisfaction  arising 
out  of  the  effect  they  made,  kept  pace  with  the  emotions  of 
the  reader.  At  first,  Mr.  Nadgett  sat  with  his  spectacles  low 
down  upon  his  nose,  looking  over  them  at  his  employer,  and 
nervously  rubbing  his  hands.  After  a  little  while,  he  changed 
his  posture  in  his  chair  for  one  of  greater  ease,  and  leisurely 
perused  the  next  document  he  held  ready,  as  if  an  occasional 
glance  at  his  employer's  face  were  now  enough,  and  all  occa- 
sion for  anxiety  or  doubt  were  gone.  And  finally  he  rose  and 
looked  out  of  the  window,  where  he  stood  with  a  triumphant 
air,  until  Tigg  Montague  had  finished. 

"  And  this  is  the  last,  Mr.  Nadgett !  "  said  that  gentle- 
man, drawing  a  long  breath. 

"That,  sir,  is  the  last." 

"  You  are  a  wonderful  man,  Mr.  Nadgett  ! " 

"  I  think  it  is  a  pretty  good  case,"  he  returned  as  he 
gathered  up  his  papers.     "  It  cost  some  trouble,  sir." 

"  The  trouble  shall  be  well  rewarded,  Mr.  Nadgett."  Nad- 
gett bowed.  "  There  is  a  deeper  impression  of  Somebody's 
Hoof  here,  than  I  had  expected,  Mr.  Nadgett.  I  may  congra- 
tulate myself  upon  your  being  such  a  good  hand  at  a  secret." 

"Oh  !  nothing  has  an  interest  to  me  that's  not  a  secret," 
replied  Nadgett,  as  he  tied  the  string  about  his  pocket-book, 
and  put  it  up.  "  It  almost  takes  away  any  pleasure  I  may 
have  had  in  this  inquiry  even  to  make  it  known  to  you." 

"A  most  invaluable  constitution,"  Tigg  retorted.  "A 
great  gift  for  a  gentleman  employed  as  you  are,  Mr.  Nadgett. 
Much  better  than  discretion  :  though  you  possess  that  quality 
also  in  an  eminent  degree.  1  think  I  heard  a  double  knock. 
Will  you  put  your  head  out  of  window,  and  tell  me  whether 
there  is  anybody  at  the  door  ? " 

Mr.  Nadgett  softly  raised  the  sash,  and  peered  out  from 
the  very  corner,  as  a  man  might  who  was  looking  down  into  a 
street  from  whence  a  brisk  discharge  of  musketry  might  be 
expected  at  any  moment.  Drawing  in  his  head  with  equal 
caution,  he  observed,  not  altering  his  voice  or  manner  : 

"  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"  I  thought  so,"  Tigg  retorted. 

"  Shall  I  go  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  had  better.  Stay  though !  No  !  remaio 
here,  Mr.  Nadgett,  if  you  please." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


593 


It  was  remarkable  how  pale  and  flurried  he  had  become  in 
an  instant.  There  was  nothing  to  account  for  it.  His  eye 
had  fallen  on  his  razors  :  but  what  of  them  ! 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  announced. 

"  Show  him  up  directly,  Nadgett !  Don't  leave  us  alone 
together.  Mind  you  don't,  now  !  By  the  Lord  !  "  he  added 
in  a  whisper  to  himself  :   "  We  don't  know  what  may  happen." 

Saying  this,  he  hurriedly  took  up  a  couple  of  hair-brushes, 
and  began  to  e.xercise  them  on  his  own  head,  as  if  his  toilet 
had  not  been  interrupted.  Mr.  Nadgett  withdrew  to  the  stove, 
in  which  there  was  a  small  fire  for  the  convenience  of  heating 
curling  irons  ;  and  taking  advantage  of  so  favorable  an  oppor- 
tunity for  drying  his  pocket-handkerchief,  produced  it  without 
loss  of  time.  There  he  stood,  during  the  whole  interview, 
holding  it  before  the  bars,  and  sometimes,  but  not  often, 
glancing  over  his  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  Chuzzlewit !  "  cried  Montague,  as  Jonas  en- 
tered ;  "you  rise  with  the  lark.  Though  you  go  to  bed  with 
the  nightingale,  you  rise  with  the  lark.  You  have  superhuman 
energy,  my  dear  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"  Ecod  !  "  said  Jonas,  with  an  air  of  languor  and  ill-humor, 
as  he  took  a  chair,  "  I  should  be  very  glad  not  to  get  up  with 
the  lark,  if  I  could  help  it.  But  I  am  a  light  sleeper  ;  and 
it's  better  to  be  up,  than  lying  awake,  counting  the  dismal  old 
church-clocks,  in  bed." 

"  A  light  sleeper  !  "  cried  his  friend.  "  Now,  what  is  a 
light  sleeper  ?  I  often  hear  the  expression,  but  upon  my  life 
I  have  not  the  least  conception  what  a  light  sleeper  is." 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  Jonas,  *'  What's  that  ?  Oh,  old  what's-his- 
name  ;  looking  (as  usual)  as  if  he  wanted  to  skulk  up  the 
chimney." 

"  Ha,  ha!     I  have  no  doubt  he  does." 

"  Well  !  He's  not  wanted  here,  I  suppose,"  said  Jonas. 
*'  He  may  go,  mayn't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  let  him  stay,  let  him  stay  !  "  said  Tigg.  "  He's  a 
mere  piece  of  furniture.  He  has  been  making  his  report,  and 
is  waiting  for  further  orders.  He  has  been  told,"  said  Tigg, 
raising  his  voice,  "  not  to  lose  sight  of  certain  friends  of  ours, 
or  to  think  that  he  has  done  with  them  by  any  means.  He 
understands  his  business." 

"  He  need,"  replied  Jonas  ;  "  for  of  all  the  precious  old 
dummies  in  appearance  that  ever  I  saw,  he's  about  the  worst. 
He's  afraid  of  me,  I  think." 

38 


594 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


"  It's  my  belief,"  said  Tigg,  "  that  you  are  Poison  to  him. 
Nadgett !  give  me  that  towel !  " 

He  had  as  little  occasion  for  a  towel  as  Jonas  had  for  a 
start.  But  Nadgett  brought  it  quickly ;  and,  having  lingered 
for  a  moment,  fell  back  upon  his  old  post  by  the  fire. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  fellow,"  resumed  Tigg,  "  you  are  too 
what's  the  matter  with  your  lips  .''     How  white  they  are  !  " 

"  I  took  some  vinegar  just  now,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  had 
oysters  for  my  breakfast.  Where  are  they  white  ?  "  he  added, 
muttering  an  oath,  and  rubbing  them  upon  his  handkerchief. 
"  I  don't  believe  they  are  white." 

"  Now  I  look  again,  they  are  not,"  replied  his  friend. 
"  They  are  coming  right  again." 

"  Say  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Jonas  angrily, 
"  and  let  my  face  be  !  As  long  as  I  can  show  my  teeth  when 
I  want  to  (and  I  can  do  that  pretty  well),  the  color  of  my 
lips  is  not  material." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  Tigg.  "  I  was  only  going  to  say  that 
you  are  too  quick  and  active  for  our  friend.  He  is  too  shy 
to  cope  with  such  a  man  as  you,  but  does  his  duty  well.  Oh, 
very  well  !     But  what  is  a  light  sleeper  ?  " 

"  Hang  a  light  sleeper  !  "  exclaimed  Jonas  pettishly. 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  Tigg.     "  No.     We'll  not  do  that." 

"  A  light  sleeper  ain't  a  heavy  one,"  said  Jonas  in  his 
sulky  way  ;  "  don't  sleep  much,  and  don't  sleep  well,  and 
don't  sleep  sound." 

"And  dreams,"  said  Tigg,  "and  cries  out  in  an  ugly 
manner  ;  and  when  the  candle  burns  clown  in  the  night,  is  in 
an  agony  ;  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.     I  see  !  " 

They  were  silent  for  a  little  time.     Then  Jonas  spoke  : 

"Now  we've  done  with  child's  talk,  I  want  to  have  a  word 
with  you.  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you  before  we  meet 
up  yonder  to-day.  I  am  not  satisfied  with  the  state  of  affairs." 

"  Not  satisfied  !  "  cried  Tigg.  "  The  money  comes  in 
well." 

"  The  money  comes  in  well  enough,"  retorted  Jonas  \  "but 
it  don't  come  out  well  enough.  It  can't  be  got  at,  easily 
enough.  I  haven't  sufficient  power ;  it  is  all  in  your  hands. 
Ecod  !  what  with  one  of  your  by-laws,  and  another  of  your 
by-laws,  and  your  votes  in  this  capacity,  and  your  votes  in 
that  capacity,  and  your  official  rights,  and  your  individual 
rights,  and  other  people's  rights  who  are  only  you  again, 
there  are  no  rights  left  for  me.    Everybody  else's  rights  are  my 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  595 

wrongs.  What's  the  use  of  my  having  a  voice  if  it's  always 
drowned  ?  I  might  as  well  be  dumb,  and  it  would  be  much 
less  aggravating.     I'm  not  agoing  to  stand  that,  you  know." 

"  No  !  "  said  Tigg  in  an  insinuating  tone. 

"  No  1  "  returned  Jonas,  "I'm  not  indeed.  I'll  play  Old 
Gooseberry  with  the  office,  and  make  you  glad  to  buy  me  out 
at  a  good  high  figure,  if  you  try  any  of  your  tricks  with  me.' 

"  I  give  you  my  honor — — ,"  Montague  began. 

"  Oh  !  confound  your  honor,"  interrupted  Jonas,  who  be- 
came more  coarse  and  quarrelsome  as  the  other  remonstrated, 
which  may  have  been  a  part  of  Mr.  Montague's  intention  :  "  I 
want  a  little  more  control  over  the  money.  You  may  have  all  the 
honor,  if  you  like  ;"  I'll  never  bring  you  to  book  for  that.  But 
I'm  not  agoing  to  stand  it,  as  it  is  now.  If  you  should  take 
it  into  your  honorable  head  to  go  abroad  with  the  bank,  I 
don't  see  much  to  prevent  you.  Well  !  That  won't  do.  Y've 
had  some  very  good  dinners  here,  but  they'd  come  too  dear 
on  such  terms  :   and  therefore,  that  won't  do." 

"I  am  unfortunate  to  find  you  in  this  humor,"  said  Tigg, 
with  a  remarkable  kind  of  smile  :  "  for  I  was  going  to  propose 
to  you — for  your  own  ad\'antage ;  solely  for  your  own  advan- 
tage— that  you  should  venture  a  little  more  with  us." 

"  Was  you,  by  G — .''  "  said  Jonas,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"Yes.  And  to  suggest,"  pursued  Montague,  "  that  surely 
you  have  friends  ;  indeed,  I  know  you  have  ;  who  would 
answer  our  purpose  admirably,  and  whom  we  should  be  de- 
lighted to  receive." 

"  How  kind  of  you  !  You'd  be  delighted  to  receive  'cm, 
would  you  ?  "  said  Jonas,  bantering. 

"  I  give  you  my  sacretl  honor,  quite  transported.  As  your 
friends,  observe  I  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  as  my  friends,  of  course.  You'll 
be  very  much  delighted  when  you  get  'em,  I  have  no  doubt. 
And  it'll  be  all  to  my  advantage,  won't  it  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  very  much  to  your  advantage,"  answered  Mon- 
tague, poising  a  brush  in  each  hand,  and  looking  steadily  upon 
him.     "  It  will  be  very  much  to  your  advantage,  I  assure  you." 

"  And  you  can  tell  me  how,"  said  Jonas,  "  can't  you  .'  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  how  ?  "  returned  the  other. 

"  I  think  you  had  better,"  said  Jonas.  "Strange  things 
have  been  done  in  the  Assurance  way  before  now,  by  strange 
sorts  of  men,  and  I  mean  to  take  care  of  myself." 

"  Chuzzlewit  1 "  replied   Montague,  leaning  forward,  with 


596  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

his  arms  upon  his  knees,  and  looking  full  into  his  face. 
"  Strange  things  have  been  done,  and  are  done  every  day ; 
not  only  in  our  way,  but  in  a  variety  of  other  ways  ;  and  no 
one  suspects  them.  But  ours,  as  you  say,  my  good  friend,  is 
a  strange  way  ;  and  we  strangely  happen,  sometimes,  to  come 
into  the  knowledge  of  very  strange  events." 

He  beckoned  to  Jonas  to  bring  his  chair  nearer  ;  and  look- 
ing slightly  round,  as  if  to  remind  him  of  the  presence  of 
Nadgett,  whispered  in  his  ear. 

From  red  to  white  ;  from  white  to  red  again ;  from  red  to 
yellow  ;  then  to  a  cold,  dull,  awful,  sweat-bedabbled  blue.  In 
that  short  whisper,  all  these  changes  fell  upon  the  face  of 
Jonas  Chuzzlewit ;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
whisperer's  mouth,  appalled,  least  any  syllable  of  what  he 
said  should  reach  the  ears  of  the  third  person  present,  it  was 
as  bloodless,  and  as  heavy  as  the  hand  of  Death. 

He  drew  his  chair  away  and  sat  a  spectacle  of  terror, 
misery,  and  rage.  He  was  afraid  to  speak,  or  look,  or  move, 
or  sit  still.  Abject,  crouching,  and  miserable,  he  was  a  greater 
degradation  to  the  form  he  bore,  then  if  he  had  been  a  loath- 
some wound  from  head  to  heel. 

His  companion  leisurely  resumed  his  dressing,  and  com- 
pleted it,  glancing  sometimes  with  a  smile  at  the  transforma- 
tion he  had  effected,  but  never  speaking  once. 

"  You'll  not  object,"  he  said,  when  he  was  quite  equipped, 
"  to  venture  further  with  us,  Chuzzlewit,  my  friend  ?  " 

His  pale  lips  faintly  stammered  out  a  "  No." 

"  Well  said  !  That's  like  yourself.  Do  you  know  I  was 
thinking  yesterday  that  your  father-in-law,  relying  on  your  ad- 
vice as  a  man  of  great  sagacity  in  money  matters,  as  no  doubt 
you  are,  would  join  us,  if  the  thing  were  well  presented  to 
him.     He  has  money  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  has  money." 

"  Shall  I  leave  Mr.  PecksniiT  to  you  ?  Will  you  undertake 
for  Mr.  Pecksniff  ? " 

"I'll  try.     I'll  do  my  best." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,"  replied  the  other,  clapping  him 
upon  the  shoulder.  "  Shall  we  walk  down  stairs .''  Mr.  Nad- 
gett !     Follow  us,  if  you  please." 

They  went  down  in  that  order.  Whatever  Jonas  felt  in 
reference  to  Montague  ;  whatever  sense  he  had  of  being  caged, 
and  barred,  and  trapped,  and  having  fallen  down  into  a  pit 
of  deepest   ruin  ;  whatever  thoughts  came  crowding  on  his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  c,g-j 

mind  even  at  that  early  time,  of  one  terrible  chance  of  escape, 
of  one  red  glimmer  in  a  sky  of  blackness  ;  he  no  more  thought 
that  the  slinking  figure  half  a  dozen  stairs  behind  him  was 
his  pursuing  Fate,  than  that  the  other  figure  at  his  side  was 
his  Good  Angel. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


CONTAINING  SOME  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  OF  THE  DOMESTIC 
ECONOMY  OF  THE  PINCHES  ;  WITH  STRANGE  NEWS  FROM 
THE    CITY,    NARROWLY    CONCERNING    TOM. 

Pleasant  little  Ruth  !  Cheerful,  tidy,  bustling,  quiet  lit- 
tle Ruth  !  No  doll's  house  ever  yielded  greater  delight  to  its 
young  mistress,  than  little  Ruth  derived  from  her"  glorious 
dominion  over  the  triangular  parlor  and  the  two  small  bed- 
rooms. 

To  be  Tom's  housekeeper.  What  dignity  !  Housekeeping, 
upon  the  commonest  terms,  associated  itself  with  elevated 
responsibilities  of  all  sorts  and  kinds ;  but  housekeeping  for 
Tom,  implied  the  utmost  complication  of  grave  trusts  and 
niighty  charges.  Well  might  she  take  the  keys  out  of  the  little 
chiffonier  which  held  the  tea  and  sugar ;  and  out  of  the  two 
little  damp  cupboards  down  by  the  fire-place,  where  the  very 
black  beetles  got  mouldy,  and  had  the  shine  taken  out  of 
their  backs  by  envious  .mildew  ;  and  jingle  them  upon  a  ring 
before  Tom's  eyes  when  he  came  down  to  breakfast  !  Weil 
might  she,  laughing  musically,  put  them  up  in  that  blessed 
little  pocket  of  hers  with  a  merry  pride  !  For  it  was  such  a 
grand  novelty  to  be  mistress  of  anything,  that  if  she  had  been 
the  most  relentless  and  despotic  of  all  little  houskeepers,  she 
might  have  pleaded  just  that  much  for  her  excuse,  and  have 
been  honorably  acquitted. 

So  far  from  being  despotic,  however,  there  was  a  coyness 
about  her  ver\'  way  of  pouring  out  the  tea,  which  Tom  quite 
revelled  in.  And  when  she  asked  him  what  he  would  like  to 
have  for  dinner,  and  faltered  out  "chops"  as  a  reasonably 
good  suggestion  after  their  last  night's  successful  supper,  Tom 
grew  quite  facetious  and  rallied  her  desperately. 


598 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  I  don't  know,  Tom,"  said  his  sister,  blushing,  "  I  am 
not  quite  confident,  but  I  think  I  could  make  a  beef-steak 
pudding,  if  I  tried,  Tom." 

"  In  the  whole  catalogue  of  cooker}-,  there  is  nothing  I 
should  like  so  much  as  a  beef-steak  pudding!"  cried  Tom  : 
slapping  his  leg  to  give  the  greater  force  to  this  reply. 

"  Yes,  dear,  that's  excellent !  But  if  it  should  happen  not 
to  come  quite  right  the  first  time,"  his  sister  faltered  ;  "  if  it 
should  happen  not  to  be  a  pudding  exactly,  but  should  turn 
out  a  stew,  or  a  soup,  or  something  of  that  sort,  you'll  not  be 
vexed,  Tom,  will  you  ?  " 

The  serious  way  in  which  she  looked  at  Tom  ;  the  way  in 
which  Tom  looked  at  her  ;  and  the  way  in  which  she  gradually 
broke  into  a  merry  laugh  at  her  own  expense  ;  would  have 
enchanted  you. 

"Why,"  said  Tom,  "this  is  capital.  It  gives  us  a  new, 
and  quite  an  uncommon  interest  in  the  dinner.  We  put  into 
a  lottery  for  a  beef-steak  pudding,  and  it  is  impossible  to  say 
what  we  may  get.  We  may  make  some  wonderful  discovery, 
perhaps,  and  produce  such  a  dish  as  never  was  known  before." 

"  I  shall  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  we  do,  Tom,"  returned 
his  sister,  still  laughing  merrily,  "  or  if  it  should  prove  to  be 
such  a  dish  as  we  shall  not  feel  very  anxious  to  produce 
again  ;  but  the  meat  must  come  out  of  the  saucepan  at  last, 
somehow  or  other,  you  know.  We  can't  cook  it  into  nothing 
at  all  ;  that's  a  great  comfort.  So  if  you  like  to  venture,  / 
will." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt,"  rejoined  Tom,  "  that  it  will 
come  out  an  excellent  pudding  ;  or  at  all  events,  I  am  sure 
that  I  shall  think  it  so.  There  is  naturally  something  so 
handy  and  brisk  about  you,  Ruth,  that  if  you  said  you  could 
make  a  bowl  of  faultless  turtle  soup,  I  should  believe  you." 

And  Tom  was  right.  She  was  precisely  that  sort  of  person. 
Nobody  ought  to  have  been  able  to  resist  her  coaxing  manner  ; 
and  nobody  had  any  business  to  tr}-.  Yet  she  never  seemed 
to  know  it  was  her  manner  at  all.     That  was  the  best  of  it. 

Well  !  she  washed  up  the  breakfast  cups,  chatting  away 
the  whole  time,  and  telling  Tom  all  sorts  of  anecdotes  about 
the  brass-and-copper  founder  ;  put  everything  in  its  place  ; 
made  the  room  as  neat  as  herself ; — you  must  not  suppose  its 
shape  was  half  as  neat  as  hers  though,  or  anything  like  it — 
and  brushed  Tom's  old  hat  round  and  round  and  round  again, 
until  it  was  as  sleek  as  Mr.  Pecksniff.    Then  she  discovered,  all 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


599 


in  a  moment,  that  Tom's  shirt-collar  was  frayed  at  the  edge  ; 
and  flying  up  stairs  for  a  needle  and  thread,  came  flying  down 
asain  with  her  thimble  on,  and  set  it  right  with  wonderful 
expertness ;  never  once  sticking  the  needle  into  his  face, 
although  she  was  humming  his  pet  tune  from  first  to  last,  and 
beating  time  with  the  fingers  of  her  left  hand  upon  his  neck- 
cloth. She  had  no  sooner  done  this,  than  off  she  was  again  ; 
and  there  she  stood  once  more,  as  brisk  and  busy  as  a  bee, 
tying  that  compact  little  chin  of  hers  into  an  equally  compact 
little  bonnet  :  intent  on  bustling  out  to  the  butcher's  without 
a  minute's  loss  of  time  ;  and  inviting  Tom  to  come  and  see 
the  steak  cut,  with  his  own  eyes..  As  to  Tom,  he  was  ready 
to  go  anywhere  ;  so,  off  they  trotted,  arm-in-arm,  as  nimbly  as 
you  please  :  saying  to  each  other  what  a  quiet  street  it  was  to 
lodge  in,  and  how  very  cheap,  and  what  an  aiiy  situation. 

To  see  the  butcher  slap  the  steak,  before  he  laid  it  on  the 
block,  and  give  his  knife  a  sharpening,  was  to  forget  breakfa.^t 
instantly.  It  was  agreeable,  too — it  really  was — to  see  him 
cut  it  off,  so  smooth  and  juicy.  There  was  nothing  savage  in 
the  act,  although  the  knife  was  large  and  keen  ;  it  was  a  piece 
of  art,  high  art  ;  there  was  delicacy  of  touch,  clearness  of 
tone,  skilful  handling  of  the  subject,  fine  shading.  It  was 
the  triumph  of  mind  over  matter  ;  quite. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  cabbage-leaf  ever  grown  in  a  garden 
was  wrapped  about  this  steak,  before  it  was  delivered  over  lo 
Tom.  But  the  butcher  had  a  sentiment  for  his  business,  and 
knew  how  to  refine  upon  it.  When  he  saw  Tom  putting  the 
cabbage-leaf  into  his  pocket  awkwardly,  he  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  do  it  for  him;  "for  meat,"  he  said  with  some 
emotion,  "must  be  humored,  not  drove." 

Back  they  went  to  the  lodgings  again,  after  they  had  bought 
some  eggs,  and  flour,  and  such  small  matters  ;  and  Tom  sat 
gravely  dowai  to  write,  at  one  end  of  the  parlor  table,  while 
Ruth  prepared  to  make  the  pudding,  at  the  other  end  ;  for 
there  was  nobody  in  the  house  but  an  old  woman  (the  land- 
lord being  a  mysterious  sort  of  man,  who  went  out  early  in 
the  morning,  and  was  scarcely  ever  seen)  ;  and  saving  in 
mere  household  drudger}-,  they  waited  on  themselves. 

"  What  are  you  writing,  Tom  .-'  "  inquired  his  sister,  laying 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Why,  you  see,  my  dear,"  said  Tom,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  and  looking  up  in  her  face,  "■  I  am  very  anxious  of  course, 
to  obtain  some  suitable  employment ;  and  before  Mr.  West- 


6oo  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

lock  comes  this  afternoon,  I  think  I  may  as  well  prepare  a 
little  description  of  myself  and  my  qualifications ;  such  as  he 
could  show  to  any  friend  of  his." 

"  You  had  better  do  the  same  for  me,  Tom,  also,"  said 
his  sister,  casting  down  her  eyes.  "  I  should  dearly  like  to 
keep  house  for  you,  and  take  care  of  you  always,  Tom  ;  but 
we  are  not  rich  enough  for  that." 

"  We  are  not  rich,"  returned  Tom,  "  certainly  ;  and  we 
may  be  much  poorer.  But  we  will  not  part,  if  we  can  help  it. 
No,  no  :  we  will  make  up  our  minds,  Ruth,  that,  unless  we 
are  so  very  unfortunate  as  to  render  me  quite  sure  that  you 
would  be  better  off  away  from  me  than  with  me,  we  will  battle 
it  out  together.  I  am  certain  we  shall  be  happier  if  we  can 
battle  it  out  together.     Don't  you  think  we  shall  ?  " 

"  Think  Tom  !  " 

"  Oh,  tut,  tut !  "  interposed  Tom,  tenderly.  "  You  mustn't 
cr>'." 

"  No,  no  ;  I  won't,  Tom.  But  you  can't  afford  it,  dear. 
You  can't,  indeed." 

"  We  don't  know  that,"  said  Tom.  "  How  are  we  to  know 
that,  yet  awhile,  and  without  trying  "i  Lord  bless  my  soul  !  " 
Tom's  energy  became  quite  grand.  "  There  is  no  knowing 
what  may  happen,  if  we  try  hard.  And  I  am  sure  we  can 
live  contentedly  upon  a  very  little — if  we  can  only  get  it." 

"  Yes :  that  I  am  sure  we  can,  Tom." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Tom,  "  We  must  try  for  it.  My  friend, 
John  Westlock,  is  a  capital  fellow,  and  very  shrewd  and  in- 
telligent. I'll  take  his  advice.  We'll  talk  it  over  with  him — 
both  of  us  together.  You'll  like  John  very  much,  when  you 
come  to  know  him,  I  am  certain.  Don't  cry,  don't  ciy.  You 
make  a  beef-steak  pudding,  indeed  !  "  said  Tom,  giving  her  a 
gentle  push.  "Why,  you  haven't  boldness  enough  for  a 
dumpling  !  " 

"  You  ?w7/call  it  a  pudding,  Tom.  Mind  !   I  told  you  not !  " 

"  I  may  as  well  call  it  that,  till  it  proves  to  be  something 
else,"  said  Tom.  "  Oh,  you  are  going  to  work  in  earnest,  are 
you .?  " 

Ay,  ay !  That  she  was.  And  in  such  pleasant  earnest, 
moreover,  that  Tom's  attention  wandered  from  his  writing 
every  moment.  First,  she  tripped  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen 
for  the  floor,  then  for  the  pie-board,  then  for  the  eggs,  then 
for  the  butter,  then  for  a  jug  of  water,  then  for  the  rolling-pin, 
then  for  a  pudding-basin,  then  for  the  pepper,  then  for  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  60 1 

salt ;  making  a  separate  journey  for  ever\-thing,  and  laugh- 
ing every  time  she  started  off  afresh.  When  all  the  materials 
were  collected,  she  was  horrified  to  find  she  had  no  apron  on, 
and  so  ran  up  stairs,  by  way  of  variety,  to  fetch  it.  She  didn't 
put  it  on  up  stairs,  but  came  dancing  down  with  it  in  her  hand  ; 
and  being  one  of  those  little  women  to  whom  an  apron  is  a 
most  becoming  little  vanity,  it  took  an  immense  time  to  ar- 
range ;  having  to  be  carefully  smoothed  down  beneath — Oh, 
heaven,  what  a  wicked  little  stomacher  !  and  to  be  gathered 
up  into  little  plaits  by  the  strings  before  it  could  be  tied,  and 
to  be  tapped,  rebuked,  and  wheedled,  at  the  pockets,  before 
it  would  set  right,  which  at  last  it  did,  and  when  it  did^ — but 
never  mind  ;  this  is  a  sober  chronicle.  And  then,  there  were 
her  cuffs  to  be  tucked  up,  for  fear  of  flour  ;  and  she  had  a 
little  ring  to  pull  off  her  finger,  which  wouldn't  come  off 
(foolish  little  ring  !)  ;  and  during  the  whole  of  these  prepara- 
tions she  looked  demurely  every  now  and  then  at  Tom,  from 
under  her  dark  eye-lashes,  as  if  they  were  all  a  part  of  the 
pudding,  and  indispensable  to  its  composition. 

For  the  life  and  soul  of  him  Tom  could  get  no  further  in 
his  writing  than,  "  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five," 
and  this,  notwithstanding  the  show  she  made  of  being  super- 
naturally  quiet,  and  going  about  on  tiptoe,  lest  she  should 
disturb  him  :  which  only  served  as  an  additional  means  of 
distracting  his  attention,  and  keeping  it  upon  her. 

"  Tom,"  she  said  at  last,  in  high  glee.     "  Tom  !  " 

"  What  now  t  "  said  Tom,  repeating  to  himself,  "  aged 
thirty-five  !  " 

"  Will  you  look  here  a  moment,  please  ?  " 

As  if  he  hadn't  been  looking  all  the  time ! 

"  I  am  going  to  begin,  Tom.  Don't  you  wonder  why  I 
butter  the  inside  of  the  basin  t  "  said  his  busy  little  sister. 

"Not  more  than  you  do,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Tom,  laugh- 
ing.    "For  I  believe  you  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"What  an  Infidel  you  are,  Tom  !  How  else  do  you  think 
it  would  turn  out  easily  when  it  was  done  ?  For  a  civil- 
engineer  and  land-surveyor  not  to  know  that !  My  goodness, 
Tom  !  " 

It  was  wholly  out  of  the  question  to  try  to  write.  Tom 
lined  out  "  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five  ;  "  and 
sat  looking  on,  pen  in  hand,  with  one  of  the  most  loving  smiles 
imaginable. 

Such  a  busy  little  woman  as  she  was  !     So  full  of  self- 


6o2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

importance,  and  trying  so  hard  not  to  smile,  or  seem  uncertain 
about  anything!  It  was  a  perfect  treat  to  Tom  to  see  her 
with  her  brows  knit,  and  her  rosy  lips  pursed  up,  kneading 
away  at  the  crust,  rolling  it  out,  cutting  it  up  into  strips,  lining 
the  basin  with  it,  shaving  it  offline  round  the  rim,  chopping 
up  the  stake  into  small  pieces,  raining  down  pepper  and  salt 
upon  them,  packing  them  into  the  basin,  pouring  in  cold  water 
for  gravy,  and  never  venturing  to  steal  a  look  in  his  direction, 
lest  her  gravity  should  be  disturbed  ;  until,  at  last,  the  basin 
being  quite  full  and  only  wanting  the  top  crust,  she  clapped 
her  hands  all  covered  with  paste  and  flour,  at  Tom,  and  burst 
out  heartily  into  such  a  charmmg  little  laugh  of  triumph,  that 
the  pudding  need  have  had  no  other  seasoning  to  commend  it 
to  the  taste  of  any  reasonable  man  on  earth. 

"  Where's  the  pudding?  "  said  Tom.  For  he  was  cutting 
his  jokes,  Tom  was. 

"  Where  ?  "  she  answered,  holding  it  up  with  both  hands. 
"  Look  at  it !  " 

"  That  a  pudding  !  "  said  Tom. 

"It  will  be,  you  stupid  fellow,  when  it's  covered  in," 
returned  his  sister.  Tom  still  pretending  to  look  incredulous, 
she  gave  him  a  tap  on  the  head  with  the  rolling-pin,  and  still 
laughing  merrily,  had  returned  to  the  composition  of  the 
top  crust,  when  she  started  and  turned  very  red.  Tom  started, 
too,  for  following  her  eyes,  he  saw  John  Westlock  in  the  room. 

"  Why,  my  goodness,  John  !     How  did  you  come  in  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  John — "your  sister's  pardon 
especially — but  I  met  an  old  lady  at  the  street  door,  who  re- 
quested me  to  enter  here ;  and  as  you  didn't  hear  me  knock, 
and  the  door  was  open,  I  made  bold  to  do  so.  I  hardly  know," 
said  John,  with  a  smile,  "  why  any  of  us  should  be  discon- 
certed at  my  having  accidentally  intruded  upon  such  an  agree- 
able domestic  occupation,  so  very  agreeable  and  skilfully  pur- 
sued ;  but  I  must  confess  that  /  am.  Tom,  will  you  kindly 
come  to  my  relief  ?  " 

"  Mr.  John  Westlock,"  said  Tom.     "  My  sister." 

"  I  hope,  that  as  the  sister  of  so  old  a  friend,"  said  John, 
laughing,  "  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  detach  your  first 
impressions  of  me  from  my  unfortunate  entrance." 

"  My  sister  is  not  indisposed  perhaps  to  say  the  same  to 
you  on  her  own  behalf,"  retorted  Tom. 

John  said,  of  course,  that  this  wms  quite  unnecessar}',  for  he 
had  been  transfixed  in  silent  admiration  ;  and  he  held  out  his 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  6  03 

hand  to  Miss  Pinch  ;  who  couldn't  take  it,  however,  by  reason 
of  thetiour  and  paste  upon  her  own.  This,  which  mi,2;ht  seem 
calculated  to  increase  the  general  confusion  and  render  matters 
worse,  had  in  reality  the  best  effect  ni  the  world,  for  neither 
of  them  could  help  laughing  ;  and  so  they  both  found  them- 
selves on  easy  terms  immediately. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Tom.     "  Sit  down." 

"  I  can  only  think  of  sitting  down,  on  one  condition,"  re- 
turned his  friend  :  "  and  that  is,  that  your  sister  goes  on  with 
the  pudding,  as  if  you  were  still  alone." 

"That  lam  sure  she  will,"  said  Tom.  "On  one  other 
condition,  and  that  is,  that  you  stay  and  help  us  to  eat  it." 

Poor  little  Ruth  was  seized  with  a  palpitation  of  the  heart 
when  Tom  committed  this  appalling  indiscretion,  for  she  felt 
that  if  the  dish  turned  out  a  failure,  she  never  would  be  able 
to  hold  up  her  head  before  John  Westlock  again.  Quite  un- 
conscious of  her  state  of  mind,  John  accepted  the  invitation 
with  all  imaginable  heartiness  ;  and  after  a  little  more  pleas- 
antry concerning  this  same  pudding,  and  the  tremendous  ex- 
pectations he  made  believe  to  entertain  of  it,  she  blushingly 
resumed  her  occupation,  and  he  took  a  chair. 

"  I  am  here  much  earlier  than  I  intended,  Tom  ;  but  I  will 
tell  you  what  brings  me,  and  I  think  I  can  answer  for  your 
being  glad  to  hear  it.  Is  that  anything  you  wish  to  show 
me  }  " 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  "  cried  Tom,  who  had  forgotten  the  blotted 
scrap  of  paper  in  his  hand,  until  this  iiuiuiry  brought  it  to  his 
recollection.  "  '  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five  ' — ■ 
The  beginning  of  a  'description  of  myself.     That's  alk" 

"I  don't  think  you  will   have  occasion   to   finish   it,  Tom. 
But  how  is  it  you  never  told  me  you  had  friends  in  London  ?  " 
■  Tom  looked  at  his  sister  with  all  his  might  ;  and  certainly 
his  sister  looked  with  all  her  might  at  him. 

"  Friends  in  London  !  "  echoed  Tom. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Westlock,  "  to  be  sure." 

"  Have  iy;//  any  friends  in  London,  Ruth,  my  dear.^" 
asked  Tom. 

"  No,  'I'om." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  that  /  have,"  said  Tom,  "but 
it's  news  to  me.  I  never  knew  it.  They  must  be  capital  peo- 
ple to  keep  a  secret,  John." 

"  You    shall    judge    for   yourself,"     returned    the    other. 
"  Seriously,  Tom,  here,  is  the  plain  state  of  the  case.     As  \ 


6 04  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

was  sitting  at  breakfast  this   morning,  there  comes  a  knock  at 
my  door." 

"  On  which  you  cried  out,  very  loud,  '  Come  in  !  '  "  sug- 
gested Tom. 

"  So  I  did.  And  the  person  who  knocked,  not  being  a 
respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five,  from  the  country, 
came  in  when  he  was  invited,  instead  of  standing  gaping  and 
staring  about  him  on  the  landing.  Well !  When  he  came 
in,  I  found  he  was  a  stranger  ;  a  grave,  business-like,  sedate- 
looking,  stranger.  '  Mr.  Westlock  ?  '  said  he.  '  That  is  my 
name,'  said  I.  '  The  favor  of  a  few  words  with  you  ?  '  said  he. 
'  Pray  be  seated,  sir,'  said  1." 

Here  John  stopped  for  an  instant,  to  glance  towards  the 
table,  where  Tom's  sister,  listening  attentively,  was  still  busy 
with  the  basin,  which  by  this  time  made  a  noble  appearance. 
Then  he  resumed  : 

"The  pudding  having  taken  a  chair,  Tom  " — 

"  What  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Having  taken  a  chair." 

"  You  said  a  pudding." 

"  No,  no,"  replied  John,  coloring  rather  ;  "  a  chair.  The 
idea  of  a  stranger  coming  into  my  rooms  at  half-past  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  taking  a  pudding  !  Having  taken 
a  chair,  Tom,  a  chair — amazed  me  by  opening  the  conversation 
thus  :  '  T  believe  you  are  acquainted,  sir,  with  Mr.  Thomas 
Pinch  ? '  " 

"  No !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  His  very  words,  I  assure  you.  I  told  him  I  was.  Did 
I  know  where  you  were  at  present  residing  ?  Yes.  In  Lon- 
don ?  Yes.  He  had  casually  heard,  in  a  roundabout  wa}', 
that  you  had  left  your  situation  with  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Was 
that  the  fact?  Yes,  it  was.  Did  you  want  another.?  Yes, 
you  did." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Tom,  nodding  his  head. 

"  Just  what  I  impressed  upon  him.  You  may  rest  assured 
that  I  set  that  point  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  mistake, 
and  gave  him  distinctly  to  understand  that  he  might  make  up 
his  mind  about  it.     Ver)'^  well. 

" '  Then,'  said  he,   '  1  think  I  can  accommodate  him.'  " 

Tom's  sister  stopped  short. 

"  Lord  bless  me  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Ruth,  my  dear,  '  think 
t  can  accommodate  him.'  " 

"Of  course    1   begged   him,"   pursued   John   Westlock, 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


605 


glancing  at  Tom's  sister,  who  was  not  less  eager  \\\  her  interest 
than  Tom  himself,  "  to  proceed,  and  said  that  I  would  under- 
take to  see  you  immediately.  He  replied  that  he  had  very 
little  to  say,  being  a  man  of  few  words,  but  such  as  it  was,  it 
was  to  the  purpose — and  so,  indeed,  it  turned  out — for  he  im- 
mediately went  on  to  tell  me  that  a  friend  of  his  was  in  want 
of  a  kind  of  secretary  and  librarian  ;  and  that  although  the  sal- 
ary was  small,  being  only  a  hundred  pounds  a  year,  with  nei- 
ther board  nor  lodging,  still  the  duties  were  not  heavy,  and 
there  the  post  was.     Vacant,  and  ready  for  your  acceptance." 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom  ;  "  a  hundred  pounds  a 
year  1  My  dear  John  1  Ruth,  my  love  I  A  hundred  pounds 
a  year !  " 

"  But  the  strangest  part  of  the  stor)',"  resumed  John  West- 
lock,  laying  his  hand  on  Tom's  wrist,  to  bespeak  his  attention, 
and  repress  his  ecstasies  for  the  moment  ;  "  the  strangest  part 
of  the  story,  Miss  Pinch,  is  this.  I  don't  know  this  man  from 
Adam ;  neither  does  this  man  know  Tom." 

"  He  can't,"  said  Tom,  in  great  perplexity,  "  if  he's  a 
Londoner.     I  don't  know  any  one  in  London." 

"And  on  my  observing,"  John  resumed,  still  keeping  his 
hand  upon  Tom's  wrist,  "  that  I  had  no  doubt  he  would 
excuse  the  freedom  I  took,  in  inquiring  who  directed  him  to 
me  ;  how  he  came  to  know  of  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  my  friend's  position  ;  and  how  he  came  to  be 
acquainted  with  my  friend's  peculiar  fitness  for  such  an  office 
as  he  had  described  ;  he  dryly  said  that  he  was  not  at  liberty 
to  enter  into  any  explanations." 

"  Not  at  liberty  to  enter  into  any  explanations  !  "  repeated 
Tom,  drawing  a  long  breath. 

"  '  I  must  be  perfectly  aware,'  he  said,"  John  added,  "  '  that 
to  any  person  who  had  ever  been  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  neigh- 
borhood, Mr.  Thomas  Pinch  and  his  acquirements  were  as 
well  known  as  the  Church  steeple,  or  the  Blue  Dragon.'  " 

"  The  Blue  Dragon  !  "  repeated  Tom,  staring  alternately 
at  his  friend  and  his  sister. 

"  Ay  ;  think  of  that !  He  spoke  as  familiarly  of  the  Blue 
Dragon,  I  give  you  my  word,  as  if  he  had  been  Mark  Tapley. 
I  opened  my  eyes,  I  can  tell  you,  when  he  did  so  ;  but  I  could 
not  fancy  I  had  ever  seen  the  man  before,  although  he  said 
with  a  smile,  '  You  know  the  Blue  Dragon,  Mr.  Westlock  ; 
you  kept  it  up  there,  one  or  twice,  yourself.'  Kept  it  up  there  \ 
So  I  did.     You  remember,  Tom .''  " 


6o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Tom  nodded  with  great  significance,  and  falling  into  a 
state  of  deeper  perplexity  than  before,  observed  that  this  was 
the  most  unaccountable  and  extraordinary  circumstance  he 
had  ever  heard  of  in  his  life. 

'*  Unaccountable  ?  "  his  friend  repeated.  "  I  became 
afraid  of  the  man.  Though  it  was  broad  day,  and  bright 
sunshine,  I  was  positively  afraid  of  him.  I  declare  I  half 
suspected  him  to  be  a  supernatural  visitor,  and  not  a  mortal, 
until  he  took  out  a  common-place  description  of  pocket-book, 
and  handed  me  this  card." 

"  Mr.  Fips,"  said  Tom,  reading  it  aloud.  "  Austin  Friars. 
Austin  Fria:rs  sounds  ghostly,  John." 

"  Fips  don't,  I  think,"  was  John's  reply.  "  But  there  he 
lives,  Tom,  and  there  he  expects  us  to  call  this  morning.  And 
now  you  know  as  much  of  this  strange  incident  as  I  do,  upon 
my  honor." 

Tom's  face,  between  his  exultation  in  the  hundred  pounds 
a  year,  and  his  wonder  at  this  narration,  was  only  to  be 
equalled  by  the  face  of  his  sister,  on  which  there  sat  the  very 
best  expression  of  blooming  surprise  that  any  painter  could 
have  wished  to  see.  What  the  beef-steak  pudding  would  ha\e 
come  to,  if  it  had  not  been  by  this  time  finished,  astrology 
itself  could  hardly  determine. 

"Tom,"  said  Ruth,  after  a  little  hesitation,  "perhaps  Mr. 
Westlock,  in  his  friendship  for  you,  knows  more  of  this  than 
he  chooses  to  tell." 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  cried  John,  eagerly.  "  It  is  not  so,  I 
assure  you.  I  wish  it  were.  I  cannot  take  credit  to  myself, 
Miss  Pinch,  for  any  such  thing.  All  that  I  know,  or,  so  far 
as  I  can  judge,  am  likely  to  know,  I  have  told  you." 

"  Couldn't  you  know  more,  if  you  thought  proper  t  "  said 
Ruth,  scraping  the  pie-board  industriously. 

"  No,"  retorted  John.  "  Indeed,  no.  It  is  very  ungenerous 
in  you  to  be  so  suspicious  of  me  when  I  repose  implicit  faith 
in  you.  I  have  unbounded  confidence  in  the  pudding.  Miss 
Pinch." 

She  laughed  at  this,  but  they  soon  got  back  into  a  seri- 
ous vein,  and  discussed  the  subject  with  profound  gravity. 
Whatever  else  was  obscure  in  the  business,  it  appeared  to  be 
quite  plain  that  Tom  was  offered  a  salary  of  one  hundred 
pounds  a  year  ;  and  this  being  the  main  point,  the  surround- 
ing obscurity  rather  set  it  off  than  otherwise. 

Tom,  being  in  a  great  flutter,  wished  to  start  for  Austin 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE IVIT.  607 

Friars  instantly,  but  they  waited  nearly  an  hour,  by  John's 
advice,  before  they  departed.  Tom  made  himself  as  spruce 
as  he  could  before  leaving  home,  and  when  John  Westlock, 
through  the  half-opened  parlor  door,  had  glimpses  of  that 
brave  little  sister  brushing  the  collar  of  his  coat  in  the  passage, 
taking  up  loose  stitches  in  his  gloves,  and  hovering  lightly 
about  and  about  him,  touching  him  up  here  and  there  in  the 
height  of  her  quaint,  little,  old-fashioned  tidiness,  he  called  to 
mind  the  fancy  portraits  of  her  on  the  wall  of  the  Pecksniflfian 
work-room,  and  decided  with  uncommon  indignation  that  they 
were  gross  libels,  and  not  half  pretty  enough  ;  though,  as  hath 
been  mentioned  in  its  place,  the  artists  always  made  those 
sketches  beautiful,  and  he  had  drawn  at  least  a  score  of  them 
with  his  own  hands. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  as  they  were  walking  along,  "  I  begin  to 
think  you  must  be  somebody's  son." 

"  1  suppose  I  am,"  Tom  answered  in  his  quiet  way. 
"  But  I  mean  somebody's  of  consequence." 
"  Bless  your  heart,"  replied  Tom,  "  my  poor  father  was  of 
no  consequence,  nor  my  mother  either." 
"  You  remember  them  perfectly,  then  ?  " 
"  Remember  them .-'  oh  dear  yes.     My  poor  mother  was 
the  last.     She  died  when  Ruth  was  a  mere  baby,  and  then  we 
both  became   a   charge  upon   the  savings   of  that  good   old 
grandmother   I   used  to  tell  you  of.     You  remember !     Oh ! 
There's  nothing  romantic  in  our  historv,  John." 

"  Very  well,"  said  John  in  quiet  despair.  "  Then  there 
is  no  way  of  accounting  for  my  visitor  of  this  morning.  So 
we'll  not  try,  Tom." 

They  did  try,  notwithstanding,  and  never  left  off  tr}'ing 
until  they  got  to  Austin  Friars,  where,  in  a  very  dark  passage 
on  the  first  Hoor,  oddly  situated  at  the  back  of  a  house,  across 
some  leads,  they  found  a  little  blear-eyed  glass  door  up  in  one 
corner,  with  Mr.  Fips  painted  on  it  in  characters  which  were 
meant  to  be  transparent.  There  was  also  a  wicked  old  side- 
board hiding  in  the  gloom  hard  by,  meditating  designs  upon 
the  ribs  of  visitors  ;  and  an  old  mat,  worn  into  lattice  work, 
which,  being  useless  as  a  mat  (even  if  anybody  could  have 
seen  it,  which  was  impossible),  had  for  many  years  directed 
its  industry  into  another  channel,  and  regularly  tripped  up 
every  one  of  Mr.  Fips's  clients. 

Mr.  Fips,  hearing  a  violent  concussion  between  a  human 
hat  and  his  office  door,  was  apprised,  by  the  usual  means  of 


6o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

communication,  that  somebody  had  come  to  call  upon  him, 
and  giving  that  somebody  admission,  observed  that  it  was 
"  rather  dark." 

"Dark  indeed,"  John  whispered  in  Tom  Pinch's  ear. 
"  Not  a  bad  place  to  dispose  of  a  countryman  in,  I  should 
think,  Tom." 

Tom  had  been  already  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  possi- 
bility of  their  having  been  tempted  into  that  region  to  furnish 
forth  a  pie  ;  but  the  sight  of  Mr,  Fips,  who  was  small  and 
spare,  and  looked  peaceable,  and  wore  black  shorts  and  pow- 
der, dispelled  his  doubts. 

"Walk  in,"  said  Mr.  Fips. 

They  walked  in.  And  a  mighty  yellow-jaundiced  little 
office  Mr.  Fips  had  of  it :  with  a  great,  black,  sprawling  splash 
upon  the  floor  in  one  corner,  as  if  some  old  clerk  had  cut  his 
throat  there,  years  ago,  and  had  let  out  ink  instead  of  blood. 

"  I  have  brought  my  friend  Mr.  Pinch,  sir,"  said  John 
Westlock. 

"Be  pleased  to  sit,"  said  Mr.  Fips. 

They  occupied  the  two  chairs,  and  Mr.  Fips  took  the  office 
stool,  from  the  stuffing  whereof  he  drew  forth  a  piece  of 
horse-hair  of  immense  length,  which  he  put  into  his  mouth 
with  a  great  appearance  of  appetite. 

He  looked  at  Tom  Pinch  curiously,  but  with  an  entire 
freedom  from  any  such  expression  as  could  be  reasonably  con- 
strued into  an  unusual  display  of  interest.  After  a  short  silence, 
during  which  Mr.  Fips  was  so  perfectly  unembarrassed  as  to 
render  it  manifest  that  he  could  have  broken  it  sooner  with- 
out hesitation,  if  he  had  felt  inclined  to  do  so,  he  asked  if  Mr. 
Westlock  had  made  his  offer  fully  known  to  Mr.  Pinch. 

John  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  you  think  it  worth  your  while,  sir,  do  you  ?  "  Mr, 
Fips  inquired  of  Tom. 

"  I  think  it  a  piece  of  great  good  fortune,  sir,"  said  Tom. 
"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  the  offer." 

"  Not  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Fips.     "  I  act  upon  instructions." 

"To  your  friend,  sir,  then,"  said  Tom.  "To  the  gentle- 
man with  whom  I  am  to  engage,  and  whose  confidence  I  shall 
endeavor  to  deserve.  When  he  knows  me  better,  sir,  I  hope 
he  will  not  lose  his  good  opinion  of  me.  He  will  find  me 
punctual  and  vigilant,  and  anxious  to  do  what  is  right.  That 
I  think  I  can  answer  for,  and  so,"  looking  towards  him,  "can 
Mr.  Wesdock." 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  6og 

"  Most  assuredly,"  said  John. 

Mr.  Fips  appeared  to  have  some  little  difficulty  in  resum- 
ing the  conversation.  To  relieve  himself,  he  took  up  the 
wafer-stamp,  and  began  stamping  capital  F's  all  over  his 
legs. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  "that  my  friend  is  not,  at 
this  present  moment,  in  town." 

Tom's  countenance  fell ;  for  he  thought  this  equivalent  to 
telling  him  that  his  appearance  did  not  answer  ;  and  that  Fips 
must  look  out  for  somel^ody  else. 

"  When  do  you  think  he  will  be  in  town,  sir,"  he  asked. 

"I  can't  say  ;  it's  impossible  to  tell.  I  really  have  no  idea. 
But,"  said  Fips,  taking  off  a  very  deep  impression  of  the 
wafer-stamp  upon  the  calf  of  his  left  leg,  and  looking  steadily 
at  Tom,  "  I  don't  know  that  it's  a  matter  of  much  conse- 
quence." 

Poor  Tom  inclined  his  head  deferentially,  but  appeared  to 
doubt  that. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Mr.  Fips,  "that  I  don't  know  it's  a  mat- 
ter of  much  consequence.  The  business  lies  entirely  between 
yourself  and  me,  Mr.  Pinch.  With  reference  to  your  duties  I 
can  set  you  going;  and  with  reference  to  your  salary,  I  can 
pay  it.  Weekly,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  putting  down  the  wafer-stamp, 
and  looking  at  John  Westlock  and  Tom  Pinch  by  turns  ; 
"  weekly  ;  in  this  office  ;  at  any  time  between  the  hours  of 
four  and  live  in  the  afternoon."  As  Mr.  Fips  said  this,  he 
made  up  his  face  as  if  he  were  going  to  whistle.  But  he 
didn't. 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Tom,  whose  countenance  was 
now  suffused  with  pleasure  :  "and  nothing  can  be  more  sat- 
isfactory or  straightforward.  My  attendance  will  be  re- 
Cjuired — " 

"  From  half-past  nine  to  four  o'clock  or  so,  I  should  say," 
interrupted  Mr.  Fips.     "  About  that." 

"  I  did  not  mean  the  hours  of  attendance,"  retorted  Tom, 
"which  are  light  and  easy,  I  am  sure  ;  but  the  place." 

"Oh,  the  place  !     The  place  is  in  the  Temple." 

Tom  was  delighted. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  "you  would  like  to  see  the 
place  ? " 

"Oh  dear!"  cried  Tom.  "T  shall  only  be  too  glad  to 
consider  myself  engaged,  if  you  will  allow  me  ;  without  any 
further  reference  to  the  place." 

39 


6 1  o  MAJi  TIN  CIIUZZLE  WIT. 

"  You  may  consider  yourself  engaged,  by  all  means,"  said 
Mr.  Fips  ;  "  you  couldn't  meet  me  at  the  Temple  Gate  in 
Fleet  Street,  in  an  hour  from  this  time,  I  suppose,  could 
you  ? " 

Certainly  Tom  could. 

"  Good,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  rising.  "  Then  I  will  show  you 
the  place ;  and  you  can  begin  your  attendance  to-morrow 
morning.  In  an  hour,  therefore,  I  shall  see  you.  You  too, 
Mr.  Westlock  "i  Very  good.  Take  care  how  you  go.  It's 
rather  dark." 

With  this  remark,  which  seemed  superfluous,  he  shut  them 
out  upon  the  staircase,  and  they  groped  their  way  into  the 
street  again. 

The  interview  had  done  so  little  to  remove  the  mystery  in 
which  Tom's  new  engagement  was  involved,  and  had  done  so 
much  to  thicken  it,  that  neither  could  help  smiling  at  the  puz- 
zled looks  of  the  other.  They  agreed,  however,  that  the  intro- 
duction of  Tom  to  his  new  office  and  office  companions  could 
hardly  fail  to  throw  a  light  upon  the  subject ;  and  therefore 
postponed  its  further  consideration  until  after  the  fulfilment  of 
the  appointment  they  had  made  with  Mr.  Fips. 

After  looking  at  John  Westlock's  chambers,  and  devoting 
a  few  spare  minutes  to  the  Boar's  Head,  they  issued  forth 
again  to  the  place  of  meeting.  The  time  agreed  upon,  had 
not  quite  come  ;  but  Mr.  Fips  was  already  at  the  Temple  Gate, 
and  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  their  punctuality. 

He  led  the  way  through  sundry  lanes  and  courts,  into  one 
more  quiet  and  more  gloomy  than  the  rest,  and,  singling  out 
a  certain  house,  ascended  a  common  staircase,  taking  from 
his  pocket,  as  he  went,  a  bunch  of  rusty  keys.^  Stopping  be- 
fore a  door  upon  an  upper  story,  which  had  nothing  but  a 
yellow  smear  of  paint  where  custom  would  have  placed  the 
tenant's  name,  he  began  to  beat  the  dust  out  of  one  of  these 
keys,  very  deliberately,  upon  the  great  broad  hand-rail  of  the 
balustrade. 

"You  had  better  have  a  little  plug  made,"  he  said,  looking 
round  at  Tom,  after  blowing  a  shrill  whistle  into  the  barrel  of 
the  key.  "  It's  the  only  way  of  preventing  them  from  getting 
stopped  up.  You'll  find  the  lock  go  the  better,  too,  I  dare 
say,  for  a  little  oil." 

Tom  thanked  him  ;  but  was  too  much  occupied  with  his 
own  speculations,  and  John  Westlock's  looks,  to  be  very 
talkative.     In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Fips  opened  the  door,  which 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  6 1 1 

yielded  to  his  hand  very  unwillingly,  and  with  a  horribly  dis- 
cordant sound.  He  took  the  key  out,  when  he  had  done  so, 
and  gave  it  to  Tom. 

"  Ay,  ay !  "  said  Mr.  Fips.  "  The  dust  lies  rather  thick 
here." 

Truly,  it  did.  Mr.  Fips  might  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say, 
very  thick.  It  had  accumulated  everywhere  ;  lay  deep  on 
everything  ;  and  in  one  part,  where  a  ray  of  sun  shone  through 
a  crevice  in  the  shutter  and  struck  upon  the  opposite  wall,  it 
went  twirling  round  and  round,  like  a  gigantic  squirrel-cage. 

Dust  was  the  only  thing  in  the  place  that  had  any  motion 
about  it.  When  their  conductor  admitted  the  light  freely,  and 
lifting  up  the  heavy  window-sash,  let  in  the  summer  air,  he 
showed  the  mouldering  furniture,  discolored  wainscoting  and 
ceiling,  rusty  stove,  and  ashy  hearth,  in  all  their  inert  neglect. 
Close  to  the  door,  there  stood  a  candlestick,  with  an  extin- 
guisher upon  it  ;  as  if  the  last  man  who  had  been  there  had 
paused,  after  securing  a  retreat,  to  take  a  parting  look  at  the 
dreariness  he  left  behind,  and  then  had  shut  out  light  and  life 
together,  and  closed  the  place  up  like  a  tomb. 

There  were  two  rooms  on  that  floor  ;  and  in  the  first  or 
outer  one  a  narrow  staircase,  leading  to  two  more  above. 
These  last  were  fitted  up  as  bed-chambers.  Neither  in  them, 
nor  in  the  rooms  below,  was  any  scarcity  of  convenient  furni- 
ture observable,  although  the  fittings  were  of  a  by-gone  fash- 
ion ;  but  solitude  and  want  of  use  seemed  to  have  rendered  it 
unfit  for  any  purposes  of  comfort,  and  to  have  given  it  a 
grisly,  haunted  air. 

Movables  of  every  kind  lay  strewn  about,  without  the 
least  attempt  at  order,  and  were  intermixed  with  boxes,  ham- 
pers, and  all  sorts  of  lumber.  On  all  the  floors  were  piles  of 
books,  to  the  amount,  perhaps,  of  some  thousands  of  volumes  : 
these,  still  in  bales  ;  those,  wrapped  in  paper,  as  they  had 
been  purchased  ;  others  scattered  singly  or  in  heaps  :  not  one 
upon  the  shelves  which  lined  the  walls.  To  these,  Mr.  Fips 
called  Tom's  attention. 

"  Before  anything  else  can  be  done,  we  must  have  them 
put  in  order,  catalogued,  and  ranged  upon  the  book-shelves, 
Mr.  Pinch.      That  will  do  to  begin  with,  I  think,  sir." 

Tom  rubbed  his  hands  in  the  pleasant  anticipation  of  a 
task  so  congenial  to  his  taste,  and  said  : 

"  An  occupation  full  of  interest  for  me,  I  assure  you.  It 
will  occupy  me,  perhaps,  until  Mr. " 


6 1 2  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  Until  Mr. "  repeated  Fips  ;  as  much  as  to  ask  Tom 

what  he  was  stopping  for. 

"  I  forgot  that  you  had  not  mentioned  the  gentleman's 
name,"  said  Tom. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Mr.  Fips,  pulling  on  his  glove,  "  didn't  I  ? 
No,  by  the  bye,  I  don't  think  I  did.  Ah  !  I  dare  say  he'll  be 
here  soon.  You  will  get  on  very  well  together,  I  have  no 
doubt.  I  wish  you  success,  I  am  sure.  You  won't-  forget  to 
shut  the  door?  It'll  lock  of  itself  if  you  slam  it.  Half-past 
nine,  you  know.  Let  us  say  from  half-past  nine  to  four,  or 
half-past  four,  or  thereabouts  ;  one  day,  perhaps,  a  little  ear- 
lier, another  day,  perhaps  a  little  later,  according  as  you  feel 
disposed,  and  as  you  arrange  your  work.  Mr.  Fips,  Austin 
Friars,  of  course  you'll  remember  ?  And  you  won't  forget  to 
slam  the  door,  if  you  please  ?  " 

He  said  all  this  in  such  a  comfortable,  easy  manner,  that 
Tom  could  only  rub  his  hands,  and  nod  his  head,  and  smile 
in  acquiescence,  which  he  was  still  doing,  when  Mr.  Fips 
walked  coolly  out. 

"  Why,  he's  gone  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"And  what's   more,   Tom,"   said  John  Westlock,  seating 
himself  upon  a  pile  of  books,  and  looking  up  at  his  astonished' 
friend,  "  he  is  evidently  not  coming  back  again  \  so  here  you 
are,  installed.     Under  rather  singular  circumstances,  Tom  !  " 

It  was  such  an  odd  affair  throughout,  and  Tom  standing 
there  among  the  books  with  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  the  key 
in  the  other,  looked  so  prodigiously  confounded,  that  his  friend 
could  not  help  laughing  heartily.  Tom  himself  was  tickled  : 
no  less  by  the  hilarity  of  his  friend,  than  by  the  recollection 
of  the  sudden  manner  in  which  he  had  been  brought  to  a  stop, 
in  the  very  height  of  his  urbane  conference  with  Mr.  Fips ;  so, 
by  degrees  Tom  burst  out  laughing  too  ;  and  each  making  the 
other  laugh  more,  they  fairly  roared. 

When  they  had  had  their  laugh  out,  which  did  not  happen 
very  soon,  for,  give  John  an  inch  that  way,  and  he  was  sure 
to  take  several  ells,  being  a  jovial,  good-tempered  fellow,  they 
looked  about  them  more  closely,  groping  among  the  lumber 
for  any  stray  means  of  enlightenment  that  might  turn  up.  But 
no  scrap  or  shred  of  information  could  they  find.  The  books 
were  marked  with  a  variety  of  owners'  names,  having,  no 
doubt,  been  bought  at  sales,  and  collected  here  and  there  at 
different  times  ;  but  whether  any  one  of  these  names  belonged 
to  Tom's  employer,  and,  if  so,  which  of  them,  they  had  no 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


613 


means  whatever  of  determining.  It  occurred  to  John  as  a 
very  bright  thought,  to  make  inquiry  at  the  steward's  oflfice, 
to  whom  the  chambers  belonged,  or  by  wiiom  they  were  held  ; 
but  he  came  back  no  wiser  than  he  went,  the  answer  being, 
"  Mr.  Fips,  of  Austin  Friars  !  " 

"  After  all,  Tom,  I  begin  to  think  it  lies  no  deeper  than 
this.  Fips  is  an  eccentric  man  ;  has  some  knowledge  of  Peck- 
sniff ;  despises  him,  of  course  ;  has  heard  or  seen  enough  of 
you  to  know  that  you  are  the  man  he  wants ;  and  engages  you 
in  his  own  whimsical  manner." 

"  But  why  in  his  own  whimsical  manner  .-'  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Oh  !  why  does  any  man  entertain  his  own  whimsical 
taste  ?  Why  does  Mr.  Fips  wear  shorts  and  powder,  and  Mr. 
Fips's  next-door  neighbor  boots  and  a  wig  ?  " 

Tom,  being  in  that  state  of  mind  in  which  any  explanation 
is  a  great  relief,  adopted  this  last  one  (which  indeed  was  quite 
as  feasible  as  any  other)  readily,  and  said  he  had  no  doubt  of 
it.  Nor  was  his  faith  at  all  shaken  by  his  having  said  exactly 
the  same  thing  to  each  suggestion  of  his  friend's,  in  turn,  and 
being  perfectly  ready  to  say  it  again  if  he  had  any  new  solu- 
tion to  propose. 

As  he  had  not,  Tom  drew  down  the  window-sash,  and 
folded  the  shutter,  and  they  left  the  rooms.  He  closed  the 
door  heavily,  as  Mr.  Fips  had  desired  him  •  tried  it,  found 
it  all  safe,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

They  made  a  pretty  wide  circuit  in  going  back  to  Isling- 
ton, as  they  had  time  to  spare,  and  Tom  was  never  tired  of 
looking  about  him.  It  was  well  he  had  John  Westlock  for  his 
companion,  for  most  people  would  have  been  wear}^  of  his 
perpetual  stoppages  at  shop-windows,  and  his  frequent  dashes 
into  the  crowded  carriage-way  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  to  get 
the  better  view  of  church  steeples,  and  other  public  buildings. 
But  John  was  charmed  to  see  him  so  much  interested,  and 
every  time  Tom  came  back  with  a  beaming  face  from  among 
the  wheels  of  carts  and  hackney-coaches,  wholly  unconscious 
of  the  personal  congratulations  addressed  to  him  by  the 
drivers,  John  seemed  to  like  him  better  than  before. 

There  was  no  flour  on  Ruth's  hands  when  she  received 
them  in  the  triangular  parlor,  but  there  were  pleasant  smiles 
upon  her  face,  and  a  crowd  of  welcomes  shining  out  of  every 
smile,  and  gleaming  in  her  bright  eyes.  By  the  bye,  how  bright 
they  were  !  Looking  into  tiiem  for  but  a  moment,  when  )'ou 
took  her  hand,  you  saw,  in  each,  such  a  capital  miniature   of 


6i4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

yourself,  representing  you  as  such  a  restless,  flashing,  eager, 
brilliant  little  fellow — 

Ah  !  if  you  could  only  have  kept  them  for  your  own  minia- 
ture !  But  wicked,  roving,  restless,  too  impartial  eyes,  it  was 
enough  for  any  one  to  stand  before  them,  and  straightway, 
there  he  danced  and  sparkled  quite  as  merrily  as  you  ! 

The  table  was  already  spread  for  dinner;  and  though  it 
was  spread  with  nothing  very  choice  in  the  way  of  glass  or 
linen,  and  with  green-handled  knives,  and  very  mountebanks 
of  two-pronged  forks,  which  seemed  to  be  trying  how  far 
asunder  they  could  possibly  stretch  their  legs,  without  con- 
verting themselves  into  double  the  number  of  iron  toothpicks, 
it  wanted  neither  damask,  silver,  gold,  nor  china — no,  nor  any 
other  garniture  at  all.  There  it  was — and  being  there,  noth- 
ing else  would  have  done  as  well. 

The  success  of  that  initiative  dish — that  first  experiment 
of  hers  in  cookery — was  so  entire,  so  unalloyed  and  perfect, 
that  John  Westlock  and  Tom  agreed  she  must  have  been 
studying  the  art  in  secret  for  a  long  time  past,  and  urged  her 
to  make  a  full  confession  of  the  fact.  They  were  exceedingly 
merry  over  this  jest,  and  many  smart  things  were  said  con- 
cerning it ;  but  John  was  not  as  fair  in  his  behavior  as  might 
have  been  expected,  for,  after  luring  Tom  Pinch  on,  for  a  long 
time,  he  suddenly  went  over  to  the  enemy,  and  swore  to  every- 
thing his  sister  said.  However,  as  Tom  observed  the  same 
night  before  going  to  bed,  it  was  only  in  joke,  and  John  had 
always  been  famous  for  being  polite  to  ladies,  even  when  he 
was  quite  a  boy.  Ruth  said,  "  Oh  !  indeed  !  "  She  didn't 
say  anything  else. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  three  people  may  find  to  talk 
about.  They  scarcely  left  oft"  talking  once.  And  it  was  not 
all  lively  chat  which  occupied  them  ;  for,  when  Tom  related 
how  he  had  seen  Mr.  Pecksniff's  daughters,  and  what  a 
change  had  fallen  on  the  younger,  they  were  very  serious. 

John  Westlock  became  quite  absorbed  in  her  fortunes  ; 
asking  many  questions  of  Tom  Pinch  about  her  marriage,  in- 
quiring whether  her  husband  was  the  gentleman  whom  Tom 
had  brought  to  dine  with  him  at  Salisbury  ;  in  what  degree 
of  relationship  they  stood  towards  each  other,  being  different 
persons  ;  and  taking,  in  short,  the  greatest  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject. Tom  then  went  into  it  at  full  length  ;  he  told  how 
Martin  had  gone  abroad,  and  had  not  been  heard  of  for  a 
long  time ;  how  Dragon  Mark  had  borne  him  company ;  how 


MA  R  TLY  CHUZZLE  WIT.  6 1  ^ 

Mr ,  Pecksniff  had  got  the  poor  old  doting  grandfather  into 
his  power ;  and  how  he  basely  sought  the  hand  of  Mary 
Graham.  But,  not  a  word  said  Tom  of  what  lay  hidden  in 
his  heart ;  his  heart,  so  deep,  and  true,  and  full  of  honor,  and 
yet  with  so  much  room  for  every  gentle  and  unselfish  thought : 
not  a  word. 

Tom,  Tom  !  The  man  in  all  this  world  most  confident  in 
his  sagacity  and  shrewdness  ;  the  man  in  all  this  world  most 
proud  of  his  distrust  of  other  men,  and  having  most  to  show 
in  gold  and  silver  as  the  gains  belonging  to  his  creed  ;  the 
meekest  favorer  of  that  wise  doctrine,  Every  man  for  himself, 
and  God  for  us  all  (there  being  high  wisdom  in  the  thought 
that  the  Eternal  Majesty  of  Heaven  ever  was,  or  can  be,  on 
the  side  of  selfish  lust  and  love  !)  ;  shall  never  find,  oh,  never 
find,  be  sure  of  that,  the  time  come  home  to  him,  when  all  his 
wisdom  is  an  idiot's  folly,  weighed  against  a  simple  heart ! 

Well,  well,  Tom,  it  was  simple  too,  though  simple  in  a  dif- 
ferent way,  to  be  so  eager  touching  that  same  theatre,  of 
which  John  said,  when  tea  was  done,  he  had  the  absolute 
command,  so  far  as  taking  parties  in  without  the  payment  of 
a  sixpence,  was  concerned  ;  and  simpler  yet,  perhaps,  never 
to  suspect  that  when  he  went  in  first,  alone,  he  paid  the 
money !  Simple  in  thee,  dear  Tom,  to  laugh  and  ciy  so 
heartily,  at  such  a  sorry  show,  so  poorly  shown  ;  simple,  to 
be  so  happy  and  loquacious  trudging  home  with  Ruth  ;  sim- 
ple, to  be  so  surprised  to  find  that  merry  present  of  a  cook- 
ery-book, waiting  her  in  the  parlor  next  morning,  with  the 
beef-steak-pudding-leaf  turned  down,  and  blotted  out.  There ! 
Let  the  record  stand  !  Thy  quality  of  soul  was  simple,  sim- 
ple ;  quite  contemptible,  Tom  Pinch ! 


CHAPTER  XL. 


THE    PINCHES    MAKE    A    NEW  ACQUAINTANCE,  AND  HAVE  FRESH 
OCCASION    FOR    SURPRISE    AND    WONDER. 

There  was  a  ghostly  air  about  these  uninhabited  cham- 
bers in  the  Temple,  and  attending  ever}^  circumstance  of 
Tom's  employment  there,  which  had  a  strange  charm  in  it. 
Every  morning  when  he  shut  his  door  at  Islington,  he  turned 


6 1 6  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

his  face  towards  an  atmosphere  of  unaccountable  fascination, 
as  surely  as  he  turned  it  to  the  London  smoke  ;  and  from 
that  moment,  it  thickened  round  and  round  him  all  day  long, 
until  the  time  arrived  for  going  home  again,  and  leaving  it, 
like  a  motionless  cloud,  behind. 

It  seemed  to  Tom,  every  morning,  that  he  approached  this 
ghostly  mist,  and  became  enveloped  in  it,  by  the  easiest  suc- 
cession of  degrees  imaginable.  Passing  from  the  roar  and 
rattle  of  the  streets  nito  the  quiet  court-yards  of  the  Temple, 
was  the  first  preparation.  Every  echo  of  his  footsteps  sound- 
ed to  him  like  a  sound  from  the  old  walls  and  pavements, 
wanting  language  to  relate  the  histories  of  the  dim,  dismal 
rooms  ;  to  tell  him  what  lost  documents  were  decaying  in 
forgotten  corners  of  the  shut-up  cellars,  from  whose  lattices 
such  mouldy  signs  came  breathing  forth  as  he  went  past  ;  to 
whisper  of  dark  bins  of  rare  old  wine,  bricked  up  in  vaults 
among  the  old  foundations  of  the  Halls  ;  or  mutter  in  a  lower 
tone  yet  darker  legends  of  the  cross-legged  knights,  whose 
marble  effigies  were  in  the  church.  With  the  first  planting  of 
his  foot  upon  the  staircase  of  his  dusty  office,  all  these  mys- 
teries increased  ;  until,  ascending  step  by  step,  as  Tom  as- 
cended, they  attained  their  full  growth  in  the  solitary  labors 
of  the  day. 

Every  day  brought  one  recurring,  never-failing  source  of 
speculation.  This  employer  ;  would  he  come  to-day,  and  what 
would  he  be  like  ?  For  Tom  could  not  stop  short  at  Mr. 
Fips  ;  he  quite  believed  that  Mr.  Fips  had  spoken  truly,  when 
he  said  he  acted  for  another ;  and  what  manner  of  man  that 
other  was,  became  a  full-blown  flower  of  wonder  in  the  garden 
of  Tom's  fancy,  which  never  faded  or  got  trodden  down. 

At  one  time,  he  conceived  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  repenting 
of  his  falsehood,  might,  by  exertion  of  his  influence  with  some 
third  person,  have  devised  these  means  of  giving  him  employ- 
ment. He  found  this  idea  so  insupportable  after  what  had 
taken  place  between  that  good  man  and  himself,  that  he  con- 
fided it  to  John  Westlock  on  the  very  same  day  ;  informing 
John  that  he  would  rather  ply  for  hire  as  a  porter,  than  fall 
so  low  in  his  own  esteem  as  to  accept  the  smallest  obligation 
from  the  hands  of  Mr.  Pecksniff.  But  John  assured  him  that 
he  (Tom  Pinch)  was  far  from  doing  justice  to  the  character 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff  yet,  if  he  supposed  that  gentleman  capable 
of  performing  a  generous  action  ;  and  that  he  might  make  his 
mind  quite  easy  on  that  head,  until  he  saw  the  sun  turn  green 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  617 

and  the  moon  black,  and  at  the  same  time  distinctly  perceived 
with  the  naked  eye,  twelve  first-rate  comets  careering  round 
those  planets.  In  which  unusual  state  of  things,  he  said  (and 
not  before),  it  might  become  not  absolutely  lunatic  to  suspect 
Mr.  Pecksniff  of  anything  so  monstrous.  In  short  he  laughed 
the  idea  down,  completely  ;  and  Tom,  abandoning  it,  w^as 
thrown  upon  his  beam-ends  again,  for  some  other  solution. 

In  the  meantime  Tom  attended  to  his  duties  daily,  and 
made  considerable  progress  with  the  books,  which  were 
already  reduced  to  some  sort  of  order,  and  made  a  great 
appearance  in  his  fairly-written  catalogue.  During  his  busi- 
ness hours,  he  indulged  himself  occasionally  with  snatches  of 
reading ;  which  were  often,  indeed,  a  necessary  part  of  his 
pursuit ;  and  as  he  usually  made  bold  to  cany  one  of  these 
goblin  volumes  home  at  night  (always  bringing  it  back  again 
next  morning,  in  case  his  strange  employer  should  appear  and 
ask  what  had  become  of  it),  he  led  a  happy,  quiet,  studious 
kind  of  life,  after  his  own  heart. 

But,  though  the  books  were  never  so  interesting,  and  never 
so  full  of  novelty  to  Tom,  they  could  not  so  enchain  him,  in 
those  mysterious  chambers,  as  to  render  him  unconscious,  for 
a  moment,  of  the  lightest  sound.  Any  footstep  on  the  flags 
without,  set  him  listening  attentively,  and  when  it  turned  into 
that  house,  and  came  up,  up,  up,  the  stairs,  he  always  thought 
with  a  beating  heart,  "  Now  I  am  coming  face  to  face  with 
him,  at  last  !  "  But  no  footstep  ever  passed  the  floor  immedi- 
ately below,  except  his  own. 

This  mystery  and  loneliness  engendered  fancies  in  Tom's 
mind,  the  folly  of  which  his  common  sense  could  readily  dis- 
cover, but  which  his  common  sense  was  quite  unable  to  keep 
away,  notwithstanding ;  that  quality  being  with  most  of  us,  in 
such  a  case,  like  the  old  French  Police — quick  at  detection, 
but  very  weak  as  a  preventive  power.  Misgi\-ings,  undefined, 
absurd,  inexplicable,  that  there  was  some  one  hiding  in  the 
inner  room — walking  softly  over  head,  peeping  in  through  the 
door-chink,  doing  something  stealthy,  anywhere  where  he  was 
not — came  over  him  a  hundred  times  a  clay,  making  it  pleas- 
ant to  throw  up  the  sash,  and  hold  communication  even  with 
the  sparrows  who  had  built  in  the  roof  and  water  spout,  and 
were  twittering  about  the  windows  all  day  long. 

He  sat  with  the  outer  door  wide  open,  at  all  times,  that  he 
might  hear  the  footsteps  as  they  entered,  and  turned  off  into 
the  chambers  on  the  lower  floor.     He  formed  odd  preposses- 


6i8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT, 

sions  too,  regarding  strangers  in  the  streets  ;  and  would  say 
within  himself  of  such  or  such  a  man,  who  struck  him  as  hav- 
ing anything  vuicommon  in  his  dress  or  aspect,  "  I  shouldn't 
wonder,  now,  if  that  were  he  !  "  But  it  never  was.  And 
though  he  actually  turned  back  and  followed  more  than  one 
of  these  suspected  individuals,  in  a  singular  belief  that  they 
were  going  to  the  place  he  was  then  upon  his  way  from,  he 
never  got  any  other  satisfaction  by  it,  than  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  it  was  not  the  case. 

Mr.  Fips,  of  Austin  Friars,  rather  deepened  than  illumined 
the  obscurity  of  his  position ;  for,  on  the  first  occasion  of 
Tom's  waiting  on  him  to  receive  his  weekly  pay,  he  said  : 

"  Oh  !  by  the  bye,  Mr.  Pinch,  you  needn't  mention  it,  if  you 
please  !  " 

Tom  thought  he  was  going  to  tell  him  a  secret ;  so  he  said 
that  he  wouldn't  on  any  account,  and  that  Mr.  Fips  might 
entirely  depend  upon  him.  But  as  Mr.  Fips  said  "  Very  good," 
in  reply,  and  nothing  more,  Tom  prompted  him  : 

"  Not  on  any  account,"  repeated  Tom. 

Mr.  Fips  repeated  "  Very  good." 

"  You  were  going  to  say  " — Tom  hinted. 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  "  cried  Fips.  "  Not  at  all." — However,  see- 
ing Tom  confused,  he  added,  "  I  mean  that  you  needn't  men- 
tion any  particulars  about  your  place  of  employment,  to  people 
generally.     You'll  find  it  better  not." 

"  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  employer  yet, 
sir,"  observed  Tom,  putting  his  week's  salary  in  his  pocket. 

"  Haven't  you  ?  "  said  Fips.  "  No,  I  don't  suppose  you 
have  though." 

"  I  should  like  to  thank  him,  and  to  know  that  what  I  have 
done  so  far,  is  done  to  his  satisfaction,"  faltered  Tom. 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  with  a  yawn.  "  Highly 
creditable.     Ver}^  proper." 

Tom  hastily  resolved  to  Xxy  him  on  another  tack. 

"  I  shall  soon  have  finished,  with  the  books,"  he  said.  "  I 
hope  that  will  not  terminate  my  engagement,  sir,  or  render  me 
useless  ? " 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  "  retorted  Fips.  "  Plenty  to  do — plen-ty  to 
do  !     Be  careful  how  you  go.     It's  rather  dark." 

This  was  the  very  utmost  extent  of  information  Tom  could 
ever  get  out  of  him.  So,  it  was  dark  enough  in  all  conscience  ; 
and  if  Mr.  Fips  expressed  himself  with  a  double  meaning,  he 
had  good  reason  for  doing  so. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  619 

But  now  a  circumstance  occurred,  which  helped  to  divert 
Tom's  thoughts  from  even  this  mystery,  and  to  divide  them  be- 
tween it  and  a  new  channel,  which  was  a  very  Nile  in  itself. 

The  way  it  came  about  was  this.  Having  always  been  an 
early  riser,  and  having  now  no  organ  to  engage  him  in  sweet 
converse  every  morning,  it  was  his  habit  to  take  a  long 
walk  before  going  to  the  Temple  ;  and  naturally  inclining,  as 
a  stranger,  towards  those  parts  of  the  town  which  were  con- 
spicuous for  the  life  and  animation  pervading  them,  he  became 
a  great  frequenter  of  the  market-places,  bridges,  quays,  and 
especially  the  steamboat  wharves  ;  for  it  was  very  li\ely  and 
fresh  to  see  the  people  hurrying  away  upon  their  many 
schemes  of  business  or  pleasure,  and  it  made  Tom  glad  to 
think  that  there  was  that  much  change  and  freedom  in  the 
monotonous  routine  of  city  lives. 

In  most  of  these  morning  excursions  Ruth  accompanied 
him.  As  their  landlord  was  always  up  and  away  at  his  busi- 
ness (whatever  that  might  be,  no  one  seemed  to  know)  at  a 
very  early  hour,  the  habits  of  the  people  of  the  house  in  which 
they  lodged  corresponded  with  their  own.  Thus,  they  had  often 
finished  their  breakfast,  and  were  out  in  the  summer-air,  by 
seven  o'clock.  After  a  two  hours'  stroll  they  parted  at  some 
convenient  point,  Tom  going  to  the  Temple,  and  his  sister 
returning  home,  as  methodically  as  you  please. 

Many  and  many  a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  in  Covent-Gar- 
den  Market,  snuffing  up  the  perfume  of  the  fruits  and  flow- 
ers, wondering  at  the  magnificence  of  the  pine-apples  and 
melons  ;  catching  glimpses  down  the  side  avenues,  of  rows 
and  rows  of  old  women,  seated  on  inverted  baskets  shelling 
peas ;  looking  unutterable  things  at  the  fat  bundles  of  aspara- 
gus with  which  the  dainty  shops  were  fortified  as  with  a  breast- 
work ;  and,  at  the  herbalists'  doors,  gratefully  inhaling  scents 
as  of  veal-stufiing  yet  uncooked,  dreamily  mixed  up  with  cap- 
sicums, brown-paper,  seeds — even  with  hints  of  lusty  snails 
and  fine  young  curly  leeches.  Many  and  many  a  pleasant 
stroll  they  had  among  the  poultry  markets,  where  ducks  and 
fowls,  with  necks  unnaturally  long,  lay  stretched  out  in  pairs, 
ready  for  cooking  ;  where  there  were  speckled  eggs  in  mossy 
baskets,  white  country  sausages  beyond  impeachment  by  sur- 
viving cat  or  dog,  or  horse  or  donkey,  new  cheeses  to  any 
wild  extent,  live  birds  in  coops  and  cages,  looking  much  too 
big  to  be  natural,  in  consequence  of  those  receptacles  being 
much  too  little  ;  rabbits,  alive  and  dead,  innumerable.     Many 


62 o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  among  the  cool,  refreshing,  silvery 
fish-stalls,  with  a  kind  of  moonlight  effect  about  their  stock  in 
trade,  excepting  always  for  the  ruddy  lobsters.  Many  a  pleas- 
ant stroll  among  the  wagon-loads  of  fragrant  hay,  beneath 
which  dogs  and  tired  wagoners  lay  fast  asleep,  oblivious  of 
the  pieman  and  the  public-house.  But,  never  half  so  good  a 
stroll  as  down  among  the  steamboats  on  a  bright  morning. 

There  they  lay,  alongside  of  each  other  ;  hard  and  fast  for 
ever,  to  all  appearance,  but  designing  to  get  out  somehow, 
and  quite  confident  of  doing  it ;  and  in  that  faith  shoals  of 
passengers,  and  heaps  of  luggage,  were  proceeding  hurriedly 
on  board.  Little  steamboats  dashed  up  and  down  the  stream 
incessantly.  Tiers  upon  tiers  of  vessels,  scores  of  masts,  laby- 
rinths of  tackle,  idle  sails,  splashing  oars,  gliding  row-boats, 
lumbering  barges,  sunken  piles,  with  ugly  lodgings  for  the 
water-rat  within  their  mud-discolored  nooks  ;  church  steeples, 
warehouses,  house-roofs,  arches,  bridges,  men  and  women, 
children,  casks,  cranes,  boxes,  horses,  coaches,  idlers,  and  hard- 
laborers  :  there  they  were,  all  jumbled  up  together,  any  sum- 
mer morning,  far  beyond  Tom's  power  of  separation. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  turmoil,  there  was  an  incessant  roar 
from  every  packet's  funnel,  which  quite  expressed  and  carried 
out  the  uppermost  emotion  of  the  scene.  They  all  appeared 
to  be  perspiring  and  bothering  themselves,  exactly  as  their 
passengers  did  ;  they  never  left  off  fretting  and  chafing,  in 
their  own  hoarse  manner,  once  ;  but  were  always  panting 
out,  without  any  stops,  "Come  along  do  make  haste  I'm  very 
nervous  come  along  oh  good  gracious  we  shall  never  get  there 
how  late  you  are  do  make  haste  I'm  off  directly  come  along  !  " 
Even  when  they  had  let  off,  and  had  got  safely  out  into  the 
current,  on  the  smallest  provocation  they  began  again  ;  for 
the  bravest  packet  of  them  all,  being  stopped  by  some  en- 
tanglement in  the  river,  would  immediately  begin  to  fume  and 
pant  afresh,  "  Oh  here's  a  stoppage  what's  the  matter  do  go 
on  there  I'm  in  a  hurr)*  it's  done  on  purpose  did  you  e\-er  oh 
my  goodness  do  go  on  there  !  "  and  so,  in  a  state  of  mind  bor- 
dering on  distraction,  would  be  last  seen  drifting  slowly  through 
the  mist  into  the  summer  light  beyond,  that  made  it  red. 

Tom's  ship,  however  ;  or,  at  least,  the  packet-boat  in  which 
Tom  and  his  sister  took  the  greatest  interest  on  one  particu- 
lar occasion,  was  not  off  yet,  by  any  means ;  but  was  at  the 
height  of  its  disorder.  The  press  of  passengers  was  very 
great ;  another  steamboat  lay  on  each  side  of  her  ;  the  gang- 


i 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  62 1 

ways  were  choked  up  ;  distracted  women,  obviously  bound  for 
Gravesend,  but  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  represencations  that 
this  particular  vessel  was  about  to  sail  for  Antwerp,  persisted 
in  secreting  baskets  of  refreshments  behind  bulk-heads  and 
water-casks,  and  under  seats ;  and  very  great  confusion  pre- 
vailed. 

It  was  so  amusing,  that  Tom,  with  Ruth  upon  his  arm, 
stood  looking  down  from  the  wharf,  as  nearly  regardless  as  it 
was  in  the  nature  of  flesh  and  blood  to  be,  of  an  elderly  lady 
behind  him,  who  had  brought  a  large  umbrella  with  her,  and 
didn't  know  what  to  do  with  it.  This  tremendous  instrument 
had  a  hooked  handle  ;  and  its'  vicinity  was  first  made  known 
to  him  by  a  painful  pressure  on  the  windpipe,  consequent  upon 
its  havinsf  caucrht  him  round  the  throat.  Soon  after  disen- 
gaging  himself  with  perfect  good  humor,  he  had  a  sensation  of 
the  ferule  in  his  back ;  immediately  afterwards,  of  the  hook 
entangling  his  ankles  ;  then  of  the  umbrella  generally,  wan- 
dering about  his  hat,  and  flapping  at  it  like  a  great  bird  ;  and 
lastly,  of  a  poke  or  thrust  below  the  ribs,  which  gave  him 
such  exceeding  anguish,  that  he  could  not  refrain  from  turning 
round  to  offer  a  mild  remonstrance. 

Upon  his  turning  round,  he  found  the  owner  of  the  um- 
brella struggling  on  tiptoe,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of 
violent  animosity,  to  look  down  upon  the  steamboats  ;  from 
which  he  inferred  that  she  had  attacked  him,  standing  in  the 
front  row,  by  design  and  as  her  natural  enemy. 

"  What  a  very  ill-natured  person  you  must  be  !  "  said  Tom. 

The  lady  cried  out  fiercely,  "  Where's  the  pelisse  !  "  mean- 
ing the  constabulary — and  went  on  to  say,  shaking  the  handle 
of  the  umbrella  at  Tom,  that  but  for  them  fellers  never  being 
in  the  way  when  they  was  wanted,  she'd  have  given  him  in 
charge,  she  would. 

"  If  they  greased  their  whiskers  less,  and  minded  the 
duties  which  they're  paid  so  heavy  for,  a  little  more,"  she  ob- 
served, "no  one  needn't  be  dro\e  mad  by  scrouding  so  !  " 

She  had  been  grievously  knocked  about^  no  doubt,  for  her 
bonnet  was  bent  into  the  shape  of  a  cocked  hat.  Being  a  fat 
little  woman,  too,  she  was  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion  and 
intense  iieat.  Instead  of  pursuing  the  altercation,  therefore, 
Tom  civilly  inquired  what  boat  she  wanted  to  go  on  board  of  ? 

"  I  suppose,"  returned  the  lady,  "  as  nobody  but  yourself 
can  want  to  look  at  a  steam  ])ackage,  without  wanting  to  go  a 
boarding  of  it,  can  they  !     Booby  ! " 


62  2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

"  Which  one  do  you  want  to  look  at  then  ? "  said  Tom. 
"We'll  make  room  for  you  if  we  can.  Don't  be  so  ill-tem- 
pered." 

"  No  blessed  creetur  as  ever  I  was  with  in  tr)'ing  times,"  re- 
turned the  lady,  somewhat  softened,  "  and  they're  a  many  in 
their  numbers,  ever  brought  it  as  a  charge  again  myself  that  I 
was  anythin'  but  mild  and  equal  in  my  spirits.  Never  mind 
a  contradicting  of  me,  if  you  seem  to  feel  it  does  you  good, 
ma'am,  I  often  says,  for  well  you  know  that  Sairey  may  be 
trusted  not  to  give  it  back  again.  But  I  will  not '  denige  that 
I  am  worrited  and  wexed  this  day,  and  with  good  reagion, 
Lord  forbid  !  " 

By  this  time,  Mrs.  Gamp  (for  it  was  no  other  than  that  ex- 
perienced practitioner)  had,  with  Tom's  assistance,  squeezed 
and  worked  herself  into  a  small  corner  between  Ruth  and  the 
rail ;  where,  after  breathing  very  hard  for  some  little  time,  and 
performing  a  short  series  of  dangerous  evolutions  with  her  um- 
brella, she  managed  to  establish  herself  pretty  comfortably. 

"  And  which  of  all  them  smoking  monsters  is  the  Ank- 
works  boat,  I  wonder.     Goodness  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  What  boat  did  you  want  ?  "  asked  Ruth. 

"  The  Ankworks  package,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  I  will 
not  deceive  you,  my  sweet.     Why  should  I  .''  " 

"That  is  the  Antwerp  packet  in  the  middle,"  said  Ruth. 

"  And  I  wish  it  was  in  Jonadge's  belly,  I  do,"  cried  Mrs. 
Gamp  ;  appearing  to  confound  the  prophet  with  the  whale  in 
this  miraculous  aspiration. 

Ruth  said  nothing  in  reply  ;  but,  as  Mrs.  Gamp,  laying  her 
chin  against  the  cool  iron  of  the  rail,  continued  to  look  intently 
at  the  Antwerp  boat,  and  every  now  and  then  to  give  a  little 
groan,  she  inquired  whether  any  child  of  hers  was  going 
abroad  that  morning  ?  Or  perhaps  her  husband,  she  said 
kindly. 

"  Which  shows,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  casting  up  her  eyes, 
"  what  a  little  way  you've  travelled  into  this  wale  of  life,  my 
dear  young  creetur  !  As  a  good  friend  of  mine  has  frequent 
made  remark  to  me,  which  her  name,  my  love,  is  Harris,  Mrs. 
Harris  through  square  and  up  the  steps  a  turnin'  round  by  the 
tobacker  shop,  '  Oh  Sairey,  Sairey,  little  do  we  know  wot 
lays  afore  us  ! '  '  Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am,'  I  says,  '  not  much,  it's 
true,  but  more  than  you  suppoge.  Our  calcilations,  ma'am,' 
I  says,  '  respectin'  wot  the  number  of  a  family  will  be,  comes 
most  times  within  one,  and  oftener  than  you  would  suppoge, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


623 


exact.'  '  Sairey,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  in  a  awful  way,  *  Tell  me 
wot.  is  my  indiwidgle  number.'  '  No,  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to 
her,  'ex-cuge  me,  if  you  please.  My  own,'  I  says,  '  has  fallen 
out  of  three-pair  backs,  and  had  damp  doorsteps  settled  on 
their  lungs,  and  one  was  turned  up  smilin'  in  a  bedstead,  un- 
beknown. Therefore  ma'am,'  I  says,  '  seek  not  to  proticipate, 
but  take  'em  as  they  come  and  as  they  go.'  Mine,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  "  mine  is  all  gone,  my  dear  young  chick.  And  as  to 
husbands,  there's  a  wooden  leg  irone  likewavs  home  to  its  ac- 
count,  which  in  its  constancy  of  walkin'  into  wine  vaults,  and 
never  comin'  out  again  'till  fetched  by  force,  was  quite  as 
weak  as  flesh,  if  not  weaker." 

When  she  had  delivered  this  oration,  Mrs.  Gamp  leaned 
her  chin  upon  the  cool  iron  again  ;  and  looking  intently  at 
the  Antwerp  packet,  shook  her  head  and  groaned. 

"  I  wouldn't,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  I  wouldn't  be  a  man  and 
have  such  a  think  upon  my  mind  ! — but  nobody  as  owned  the 
name  of  man,  could  do  it !  " 

Tom  and  his  sister  glanced  at  each  other  ;  and  I^.uth,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  asked  Mrs.  Gamp  what  troubled  her 
so  much. 

"My  dear,"  returned  that  lady,  dropping  her  voice,  "you 
are  single,  ain't  you  ?  " 

Ruth  laughed,  blushed,  and  said  "  Yes." 

"  Worse  luck,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  for  all  parties  ! 
But  others  is  married,  and  in  the  marriage  state  ;  and  there  is 
a  dear  young  creetur  a  comin'  down  this  mornin'  to' that  very 
package,  which  is  no  more  fit  to  trust  herself  to  sea,  than 
nothin'  is  !  " 

She  paused  here,  to  look  over  the  deck  of  the  packet  in 
question,  and  on  the  steps  leading  down  to  it,  and  on  the 
gangways.  Seeming  to  have  thus  assured  herself  that  the 
object  of  her  commiseration  had  not  yet  arrived,  she  raised 
her  eyes  gradually  up  to  the  top  of  the  escape-pipe,  and  in- 
dignantly apostrophized  the  vessel : 

"Oh  drat  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  umbrella 
at  it,  "  you're  a  nice  spluttering  nisy  monster  for  a  delicate 
young  creetur  to  go  and  be  a  passinger  by  ;  ain't  vou  !  You 
never  do  no  harm  in  that  way,  do  you  }  With  you  hammering, 
and  roaring,  and  hissing,  and  lamp-iling,  you  brute  !  'I'hem 
Confugion  steamers,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  umbrella 
again,  "  has  done  more  to  throw  us  out  of  our  reg'lar  work 
and  bring  ewents  on  at  times  when  nobody  counted  on  'em 


62  4  ^^'-^  ^  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

(especially  them  screeching  railroad  ones),  than  all  the  other 
frights  that  ever  was  took.  I  have  heard  of  one  young  man, 
a  guard  upon  a  railway,  only  three  years  opened — well  does 
Mrs.  Harris  know  him,  which  indeed  he  is  her  own  relation 
by  her  sister's  marriage  with  a  master  sawyer — as  is  godfather 
at  this  present  time  to  six-and-twenty  blessed  little  strangers, 
equally  unexpected,  and  all  on  'um  named  after  the  In- 
geins  as  was  the  cause.  Ugh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  resuming 
her  apostrophe,  "  one  might  easy  know  you  was  a  man's  in- 
vention, from  your  disregardlessness  of  the  weakness  of  our 
naturs,  so  one  might,  you  brute !  " 

It  would  not  have  been  unnatural  to  suppose,  from  the 
first  part  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  lamentations,  that  she  was  con- 
nected with  the  stage-coaching  or  post-horsing  trade.  She 
had  no  means  of  judging  of  the  effect  of  her  concluding  re- 
marks upon  her  young  companion  ;  for  she  interrupted  her- 
self at  this  point,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  There  she  identically  goes  !  Poor  sweet  young  creetur, 
there  she  goes,  like  a  lamb  to  the  sacrifige  !  If  there's  any 
illness  when  that  wessel  gets  to  sea,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  pro- 
phetically, "  it's  murder,  and  I'm  the  witness  for  the  persecu- 
tion." 

She  was  so  very  earnest  on  the  subject,  that  Tom's  sister 
(being  as  kind  as  Tom  himself),  could  not  help  saying  some- 
thing to  her  in  reply. 

"  Pray  which  is  the  lady,"  she  inquired,  "  in  whom  you 
are  so  much  interested?  " 

"There!"  groaned  Mrs.  Gamp.  "There  she  goes!  A 
crossin'  the  little  wooden  bridge  at  this  minute.  She's  a 
sJippin'  on  a  bit  of  orange-peel !  "  tightly  clutching  her  um- 
brella.    "  What  a  turn  it  give  me  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  the  lady  who  is  with  that  man  wrapped  up 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  large  cloak,  so  that  his  face  is  almost 
hidden  ? " 

"  Well  he  may  hide  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  He's  good 
call  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  Did  you  see  him  a  jerking  of 
her  wrist,  then  ?  " 

"  He  seems  to  be  hasty  with  her,  indeed." 

"  Now  he's  a  taking  of  her  down  into  the  close  cabin  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  impatiently.  "What's  the  man  about  !  The 
deuce  is  in  him  I  think.  Why  can't  he  leave  her  in  the  open 
air .?  " 

He   did  not,  whatever  his   reason  was,  but  led  her  quickly 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  JVI7. 


625 


down  and  disappeared  himself,  without  loosening  his  cloak, 
or  pausing  on  the  crowded  deck  one  moment  longer  than  was 
necessary  to  clear  their  way  to  that  part  of  the  vessel. 

Tom  had  not  heard  this  dialogue  ;  for  his  attention  had 
been  engaged  in  an  unexpected  manner.  A  hand  upon  his 
sleeve  had  caused  him  to  look  round,  just  when  Mrs.  Gamp 
concluded  her  apostrophe  to  the  steam-engine  ;  and  on  his 
right  arm,  Ruth  being  on  his  left,  he  found  their  landlord ;  to 
his  great  surprise. 

He  was  not  so  much  surprised  at  the  man's  being  there, 
as  at  his  having  got  close  to  him  so  quietly  and  swiftly  ;  for 
another  person  had  been  at  his  elbow  one  instant  before  ;  and 
he  had  not  in  the  meantime  been  conscious  of  any  change  or 
pressure  in  the  knot  of  people  among  whom  he  stood.  He 
and  Ruth  had  frequently  remarked  how  noiselessly  this  land- 
lord of  theirs  came  into  and  went  out  of  his  own  house  ;  but 
Tom  was  not  the  less  amazed  to  see  him  at  his  elbow  now. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pinch,"  he  said  in  his  ear.  "  I 
am  rather  infirm,  and  out  of  breath,  and  my  eyes  are  not  \ery 
good.  I  am  not  as  young  as  I  was,  sir.  You  don't  see  a 
gentleman  in  a  large  cloak  down  yonder,  with  a  lady  on  his 
arm ;  a  lady  in  a  veil  and  a  black  shawl ;  do  you  ?  " 

If  he  did  not,  it  was  curious  that  in  speaking  he  should 
have  singled  out  from  all  the  crowd  the  very  people  whom  he 
described,  and  should  have  glanced  hastily  from  them  to  Tom, 
as  if  he  were  burning  to  direct  his  wandering  eyes. 

"  A  gentleman  in  a  large  cloak  ! ''  said  Tom,  "  and  a  lady 
in  a  black  shawl !     Let  me  see  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  replied  the  other,  with  keen  impatience. 
"  A  gentleman  muffled  up  for  such  a  morning  as  this — like  an 
invalid,  with  his  hand  to  his  face  at  this  minute,  perhaps. 
No,  no,  no  !  not  there,"  he  added,  following  Tom's  gaze  ;  the 
other  way  ;  in  that  direction  ;  dow-n  yonder."  Again  he  in- 
dicated, but  this  time  in  his  hurry,  with  his  outstretched  finger, 
the  very  spot  on  which  the  progress  of  these  persons  was 
checked  at  that  moment. 

"  There  are  so  many  people,  and  so  much  motion,  and  so 
many  objects,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  find  it  difhcult  to — no,  I 
really  don't  see  a  gentleman  in  a  large  cloak,  and  a  lady  in  a 
black  shawl.     There's  a  lady  in  a  red  shawl  over  there." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  cried  his  landlord,  pointing  eagerly  again, 
"  not  there.  The  other  way — the  other  way.  Look  at  the 
cabin  steps.     To  the  left.     They  must  be  near  the  cabin  steps. 

40 


626  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Do  you  see  the  cabin  steps  ?   There's  the  bell  ringing  already ! 
Do  you  see  the  steps  ? " 

"  Stay  !  "  said  Tom,  "  you're  right.  Look  !  there  they  go 
now.  Is  that  the  gentleman  you  mean  }  Descending  at  this 
minute,  with  the  folds  of  a  great  cloak  trailing  down  after 
him  ->.  " 

"  The  very  man  !  "  returned  the  other,  not  looking  at  what 
Tom  pointed  out,  however,  but  at  Tom's  own  face.  "  Will 
you  do  me  a  kindness,  sir,  a  great  kindness  ?  Will  you  put 
that  letter  in  his  hand  }  Only  give  him  that  1  He  expects  it. 
I  am  charged  to  do  it  by  my  employers,  but  I  am  late  in  find- 
ing him,  and,  not  being  as  young  as  I  have  been,  should  never 
be  able  to  make  my  way  on  board  and  off  the  deck  again  in 
time.  Will  you  pardon  my  boldness,  and  do  me  that  great 
kindness .'"' 

His  hands  shook,  and  his  face  bespoke  the  utmost  interest 
and  agitation,  as  he  pressed  the  letter  upon  Tom,  and  pointed 
to  its  destination,  like  the  Tempter  in  some  grim  old  carving. 

To  hesitate  in  the  performance  of  a  good-natured  or  com- 
passionate office,  was  not  in  Tom's  way.  He  took  the  letter ; 
whispered  Ruth  to  wait  till  he  returned,  which  would  be  im- 
mediately ;  and  ran  down  the  steps  with  all  the  expedition  he 
could  make.  There  were  so  many  people  going  down,  so 
many  others  coming  up,  such  heavy  goods  in  course  of  transit 
to  and  fro,  such  a  ringing  of  bells,  blowing-ofif  of  steam,  and 
shouting  of  men's  voices,  that  he  had  much  ado  to  force  his 
way,  or  keep  in  mind  to  which  boat  he  was  going.  But,  he 
reached  the  right  one  with  good  speed,  and,  going  down  the 
cabin-stairs  immediately,  descried  the  object  of  his  search 
standing  at  the  upper  end  of  the  saloon,  with  his  back  towards 
him,  reading  some  notice  which  was  hung  against  the  wall. 
As  Tom  advanced  to  give  him  the  letter,  he  started,  hearing 
footsteps,  and  turned  round. 

What  was  Tom's  astonishment  to  find  in  him  the  man  with 
whom  he  had  had  the  conflict  in  the  field — poor  Mercy's  hus- 
band.    Jonas ! 

Tom  understood  him  to  say,  what  the  devil  did  he  want ; 
but  it  was  not  easy  to  make  out  what  he  said ;  he  spoke  so  in- 
distinctly. 

"  I  want  nothing  with  you  for  myself,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  was 
asked,  a  moment  since,  to  give  you  this  letter.  You  were 
pointed  out  to  me,  but  I  didn't  know  you  in  your  strange  dress. 
Take  it ! " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


627 


He  did  so,  opened  it,  and  read  the  writing  on  the  inside. 
The  contents  were  evidently  very  brief ;  not  more  perhaps 
than  one  line ;  but  they  struck  upon  him  like  a  stone  from  a 
sling.     He  reeled  back  as  he  read. 

His  emotion  was  so  different  from  any  Tom  had  ever  seen 
before,  that  he  stopped  involuntarily.  Momentar)'  as  his  state 
of  indecision  was,  the  bell  ceased  while  he  stood  there,  and  a 
hoarse  voice  calling  down  the  steps,  inquired  if  there  was  any 
one  to  go  ashore  ? 

"Yes,"  cried  Jonas,  "I — I  am  coming.  Give  me  time. 
Where's  that  woman  !  come  back  ;  come  back  here." 

He  threw  open  another  door  as  he  spoke,  and  dragged, 
rather  than  led,  her  forth.  She  was  pale  and  frightened,  and 
amazed  to  see  her  old  acquaintance  ;  but  had  no  time  to 
speak,  for  they  were  making  a  great  stir  above  ;  and  Jonas 
drew  her  rapidly  towards  the  deck. 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?     What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"We  are  going  back,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  have  changed  my 
mind.  I  can't  go.  Don't  question  me,  or  I  shall  be  the 
death  of  you,  or  some  one  else.  Stop  there  !  Stop  !  We're 
for  the  shore.     Do  you  hear  ?     We're  for  the  shore  !  " 

He  turned,  even  in  the  madness  of  his  hurr}',  and  scowl- 
ing darkly  back  at  Tom,  shook  his  clenched  hand  at  him. 
There  are  not  many  human  faces  capable  of  the  expression 
with  which  he  accompanied  that  gesture. 

He  dragged  her  up,  and  Tom  followed  them.  Across  the 
deck,  over  the  side,  along  the  crazy  plank,  and  up  the  steps, 
he  dragged  her  fiercely  ;  not  bestowing  any  look  on  her,  but 
gazing  upwards  all  the  while  among  the  faces  on  the  wharf. 
Suddenly  he  turned  again,  and  said  to  Tom  with  a  tremendous 
oath  : 

"  Where  is  he  ? " 

Before  Tom,  in  his  indignation  and  amazement,  could  re- 
turn an  answer  to  a  question  he  so  little  understood,  a  gen- 
tleman approached  Tom  behind,  and  saluted  Jonas  Chuzzle- 
wit  by  name.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  foreign  appearance, 
with  a  black  mustache  and  whiskers  ;  and  addressed  him 
with  a  polite  composure,  strangely  different  from  his  own  dis- 
tracted and  desperate  manner. 

"  Chuzzlewit,  my  good  fellow  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  rais- 
ing his  hat  in  compliment  to  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  "  I  ask  your 
pardon  twenty  thousand  times.  I  am  most  unwilling  to  inter- 
fere between  you  and  a  domestic  trip  of  this  nature  (always 


628  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

SO  very  charming  and  refreshing,  I  know,  although  I  have  not 
the  happiness  to  be  a  domestic  man  myself,  which  is  the  great 
infelicity  of  my  existence)  ;  but  the  bee-hive,  my  dear  friend, 
the  bee-hive — will  you  introduce  me  ?  " 

"  This  is  Mr.  Montague,"  said  Jonas,  whom  the  words  ap- 
peared to  choke. 

"  The  most  unhappy  and  most  penitent  of  men,  Mrs.  Chuz- 
zlewit,"  pursued  that  gentleman,  "for  having  been  the  means 
of  spoiling  this  excursion  ;  but  as  I  tell  my  friend,  the  bee- 
hive, the  bee-hive.  You  projected  a  short  little  continental 
trip,  my  dear  friend,  of  course  ?  " 

Jonas  maintained  a  dogged  silence. 

"  May  I  die,"  cried  Montague,  "  but  I  am  shocked  !  Upon 
my  soul  I  am  shocked.  But  that  confounded  bee-hive  of  ours 
in  the  city  must  be  paramount  to  every  other  consideration, 
when  there  is  honey  to  be  made  ;  and  that  is  my  best  excuse. 
Here  is  a  very  singular  old  female  dropping  curtseys  on  my 
right,"  said  Montague,  breaking  off  in  his  discourse,  and  look- 
ing at  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  who  is  not  a  friend  of  mine.  Does  any- 
body know  her  ? " 

"  Ah  !  Well  they  knows  me,  bless  their  precious  hearts  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  not  forgettin'  your  own  merry  one,  sir,  and 
long  may  it  be  so  !  Wishin'  as  every  one  "  (she  delivered 
this  in  the  form  of  a  toast  or  sentiment)  "was  as  merry,  and 
as  handsome-looking,  as  a  little  bird  has  whispered  me  a  cer- 
tain gent  is,  which  I  will  not  name  for  fear  I  give  offence 
where  none  is  doo  !  My  precious  lady,"  here  she  stopped 
short  in  her  merriment,  for  she  had  until  now  affected  to  be 
vastly  entertained,   "you're  too  pale  by  half  !  " 

"  Yoii  are  here  too,  are  you .'' "  muttered  Jonas.  "  Ecod, 
there  are  enough  of  you." 

"I  hope,  sir,"  returned  Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  an  indignant 
curtsey,  "  as  no  bones  is  broke  by  me  and  Mrs.  Harris  a 
walkin'  down  upon  a  public  wharf.  Which  was  the  veiy  words 
she  says  to  me  (although  they  was  the  very  last  I  ever  had  to 
speak)  was  these:  '  Sairey,'  she  says,  'is  it  a  public  wharf?' 
'Mrs.  Harris,'  I  makes  answer,  'can  you  doubt  it?  You 
have  know'd  me  now,  ma'am,  eight  and  thirty  year ;  and  did 
you  ever  know  me  go,  or  wish  to  go,  where  I  was  not  made 
welcome,  say  the  words.'  'No,  Sairey,'  Mrs.  Harris  says, 
'  contrairy  quite.'  And  well  she  knows  it  too.  I  am  but  a 
poor  woman,  but  I've  been  sought  arter,  sir,  though  you  may 
not  think  it.      I've  been  knocked  up  at  all  hours  of  the  night, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


629 


and  warned  out  by  a  many  landlords,  in  consequence  of  being 
mistook  for  Fire,  I  goes  out  working  for  my  bread,  'tis  true, 
but  I  maintains  my  indepency,  with  your  kind  leave,  and  which 
I  will  till  death.  I  has  my  feelins  as  a  woman,  sir,  and  I  have 
been  a  mother  likeways  ;  but  touch  a  pipkin  as  belongs  to  me, 
or  make  the  least  remarks  on  what  I  eats  or  drinks,  and 
though  you  was  the  favoritest  young  for'ard  hussy  of  a  ser- 
vant-gal as  ever  come  into  a  house,  either  you  leaves  the  place, 
or  me.  My  earnings  is  not  great,  sir,  but  I  will  not  be  impoged 
upon.  Bless  the  babe,  and  save  the  mother,  is  my  mortar, 
sir ;  but  I  makes  so  free  as  add  to  that.  Don't  try  no  impogi- 
cian  with  the  Nuss,  for  she  will  not  abear  it !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  concluded  by  drawing  her  shawl  tightly  over 
herself  with  both  hands,  and,  as  usual,  referring  to  Mrs.  Har- 
ris for  all  corroboration  of  these  particulars.  She  had  that 
peculiar  trembling  of  the  head,  which,  in  ladies  of  her  excitable 
nature,  may  be  taken  as  a  sure  indication  of  their  breaking 
out  again  very  shortly  ;  when  Jonas  made  a  timely  interposi- 
tion. 

"  As  you  are  here,"  he  said,  "you  had  better  see  to  her, 
and  take  her  home.  I  am  otherwise  engaged."  He  said 
nothmg  more  ;  but  looked  at  Montague  as  if  to  give  him  no- 
tice that  he  was  ready  to  attend  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  take  you  away,"  said  Montague. 

Jonas  gave  him  a  sinister  look,  which  long  lived  in  Tom's 
memory,  and  which  he  often  recalled  afterwards. 

"  I  am,  upon  my  life,"  said  Montague.  "  Why  did  you 
make  it  necessary'- .?  " 

With  the  same  dark  glance  as  before,  Jonas  replied,  after 
a  moment's  silence. 

"  The  necessity  is  none  of  my  making.  You  have  brought 
it  about  yourself." 

He  said  nothing  more.  He  said  even  this  as  if  he  were 
bound,  and  in  the  other's  power,  but  had  a  sullen  and  sup- 
pressed devil  within  him,  which  he  could  not  quite  resist. 
His  very  gait,  as  they  walked  away  together,  was  like  that  of 
a  fettered  man  ;  but,  striving  to  work  out  at  his  clenched 
hands,  knitted  brows,  and  fast-set  lips,  was  the  same  im- 
prisoned devil  still. 

They  got  into  a  handsome  cabriolet,  which  was  waiting  for 
them,  and  drove  away. 

The  whole  of  this  extraordinary'  scene  had  passed  so 
rapidly,    and    the    tumult    which   prevailed    around   was    so 


630 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


unconscious  of  any  impression  from  it,  that,  although  Tom 
had  been  one  of  the  chief  actors,  it  was  like  a  dream.  No 
one  had  noticed  him  after  they  had  left  the  packet.  He  had 
stood  behind  Jonas,  and  so  near  him,  that  he  could  not  help 
hearing  all  that  passed.  He  had  stood  there,  with  his  sister 
on  his  arm,  expecting  and  hoping  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
explaining  his  strange  share  in  this  yet  stranger  business. 
But  Jonas  had  not  raised  his  eyes  from  the  ground  ;  no  one 
else  had  even  looked  towards  him  ;  and  before  he  could 
resolve  on  any  course  of  action,  they  were  all  gone. 

He  gazed  round  for  his  landlord.  But  he  had  done  that, 
more  than  once  already,  and  no  such  man  was  to  be  seen. 
He  was  still  pursuing  this  search  with  his  eyes,  when  he  saw 
a  hand  beckoning  to  him  from  a  hackney-coach  ;  and  hurraing 
towards  it,  found  it  was  Merry's.  She  addressed  him  hurriedly, 
but  bent  out  of  the  window,  that  she  might  not  be  overheard 
by  her  companion,  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  What  is  it }  "  she  said,  "  Good  Heaven,  what  is  it  ?  Why 
did  he  tell  me  last  night  to  prepare  for  a  long  journey,  and 
why  have  you  brought  us  back  like  criminals  ?  Dear  Mr. 
Pinch  !  "  she  clasped  her  hands  distractedly,  "  be  merciful  to 
us.  Whatever  this  dreadful  secret  is,  be  merciful,  and  God 
will  bless  you  !  " 

"If  any  power  of  mercy  lay  with  me,"  cried  Tom,  "trust 
me,  you  shouldn't  ask  in  vain.  But  I  am  far  more  ignorant 
and  weak  than  you." 

She  withdrew  into  the  coach  again,  and  he  saw  the  hand 
waving  towards  him  for  a  moment ;  but  whether  in  reproach- 
fulness  or  incredulity,  or  misery,  or  grief,  or  sad  adieu,  or 
what  else,  he  could  not,  being  so  hurried,  understand.  She 
was  gone  now  ;  and  Ruth  and  he  were. left  to  walk  away,  and 
wonder. 

Had  Mr,  Nadgett  appointed  the  man  who  never  came,  to 
meet  him  upon  London  Bridge  that  morning  ?  He  was 
certainly  looking  over  the  parapet,  and  down  upon  the  steam- 
boat wharf  at  that  moment.  It  could  not  have  been  for 
pleasure  ;  he  never  took  pleasure.  No.  He  must  have  had 
some  business  there. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT.  63 1 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

MR.  JONAS    AND  HIS  FRIEND,  ARRIVING  AT  A  PLEASANT  UNDER- 
STANDING,   SET    FORTH    UPON    AN    ENTERPRISE. 

The  office  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and 
Life  Assurance  Company  being  near  at  hand,  and  Mr.  Mon- 
tague driving  Jonas  straight  there,  they  had  very  little  way  to 
go.  But,  the  journey  might  have  been  one  of  several  hours' 
duration,  without  provoking  a  remark  from  either  ;  for  it  was 
clear  that  Jonas  did  not  mean  to  break  the  silence  which  pre- 
vailed between  them,  and  that  it  was  not,  as  yet,  his  dear 
friend's  cue  to  tempt  him  into  conversation. 

He  had  thrown  aside  his  cloak,  as  having  now  no  motive 
for  concealment,  and  with  that  garment  huddled  on  his  knees, 
sat  as  far  removed  from  his  companion  as  the  limited  space 
in  such  a  carriage  would  allow.  There  was  a  striking 
difference  in  his  manner,  compared  with  what  it  had  been, 
within  a  few  minutes,  when  Tom  encountered  him  so  unex- 
pectedly on  board  the  packet,  or  when  the  ugly  change  had 
fallen  on  him  in  Mr.  Montague's  dressing-room.  He  had  the 
aspect  of  a  man  found  out,  and  held  at  bay  ;  of  being  baffled, 
hunted,  and  beset  ;  but  there  was  now  a  dawning  and 
increasing  purpose  in  his  face,  which  changed  it  very  much. 
It  was  gloomy,  distrustful,  lowering  ;  pale  with  anger,  and 
defeat ;  it  still  was  humbled,  abject,  cowardly,  and  mean  ;  but 
let  the  conflict  go  on  as  it  would,  there  was  one  strong  purpose 
wrestling  with  every  emotion  of  his  mind,  and  casting  the 
whole  series  down  as  they  arose. 

Not  prepossessing  in  appearance,  at  the  best  of  times,  it 
may  readily  be  supposed  that  he  was  not  so  now.  He  had 
left  deep  marks  of  his  front  teeth  in  his  nether  lip  ;  and  those 
tokens  of  the  agitation  he  had  lately  undergone,  improved  his 
looks  as  little  as  the  heavy  corrugations  in  his  forehead.  But 
he  was  self-possessed  now  ;  unnaturally  self-possessed,  indeed, 
as  men  quite  otherwise  than  brave  are  known  to  be  in 
desperate  extremities  ;  and  when  the  carriage  stopped,  he 
waited  for  no  invitation,  but  leapt  hardily  out,  and  went  up 
stairs. 

The  chairman  followed  him  ;  and  closing  the  board-room 


632 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


door  as  soon  as  they  had  entered,  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa. 
Jonas  stood  before  the  window,  looking  down  into  the  street ; 
and  leaned  against  the  sash,  resting  his  head  upon  his  arms. 

"This  is  not  handsome,  Chuzzlewit  !"  said  Montague  at 
length.     "  Not  handsome,  upon  my  soul !  " 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? "  he  answered,  looking 
round  abruptly  ;  "what  do  you  expect?  " 

"  Confidence,  my  good  fellow.  Some  confidence  !  "  said 
Montague,  in  an  injured  tone. 

"Ecod!  You  show  great  confidence  in  me,"  retorted 
Jonas.     "  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Do  I  not  ?  "  said  his  companion,  raising  his  head,  and 
looking  at  him,  but  he  had  turned  again.  "  Do  I  not  ?  Have 
I  not  confided  to  you  the  easy  schemes  I  have  formed  for 
our  advantage  ;  our  advantage,  mind ;  not  mine  alone  ;  and 
what  is  my  return .-'     Attempted  flight !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?     Who  said  I  meant  to  fly  !  " 

"  Who  said !  Come,  come.  A  foreign  boat,  my  friend, 
an  early  hour,  a  figure  wrapped  up  for  disguise  !  Who  said  ? 
If  you  didn't  mean  to  jilt  me,  why  were  you  there  ?  If  you 
didn't  mean  to  jilt  me,  why  did  you  come  back .-'  " 

"I  came  back,"  said  Jonas,  "to  avoid  disturbance." 

"  You  were  wise,"  rejoined  his  friend. 

Jonas  stood  quite  silent  ;  still  looking  down  into  the  street, 
and  resting  his  head  upon  his  arms. 

"  Now,  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Montague,  "  notwithstanding 
what  has  passed,  I  will  be  plain  with  you.  Are  you  attending 
to  me  there  ?     I  only  see  your  back." 

"/hear  you.     Goon." 

"  I  say  that  notwithstanding  what  has  passed,  I  will  be  plain 
with  you." 

"  You  said  that  before.  And  I  have  told  you  once,  I 
heard  you  say  it.     Go  on." 

"  You  are  a  little  chafed,  but  I  can  make  allowance  for 
that,  and  am,  fortunately  myself  in  the  very  best  of  tempers. 
Now,  let  us  see  how  circumstances  stand.  A  day  or  two  ago, 
I  mentioned  to  you,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  thought  I  had 
discovered " 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  "  said  Jonas,  looking  fiercely 
round,  and  glancing  at  the  door. 

"  Well,  well  !  "  said  Montague.  "  Judicious  !  Quite  cor- 
rect !  My  discoveries  being  published,  would  be  like  many 
other  men's  discoveries  in  this  honest  world  ;  of  no  further  use 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  633 

to  me.  You  see,  Chuzzlewit,  how  ingenuous  and  frank  I  am  in 
showing  you  the  weakness  of  my  own  position  !  To  return.  I 
make,  or  think  I  make,  a  certain  discovery,  which  I  take  an 
early  opportunity  in  mentioning  in  your  ear,  in  that  spirit  of 
confidence  which  I  really  hoped  did  prevail  between  us,  and 
was  reciprocated  by  you.  Perhaps  there  is  something  in  it ; 
perhaps  there  is  nothing.  I  have  my  knowledge  and  opinion 
on  the  subject.  You  have  yours.  VVe  will  not  discuss  tlie 
question.  But,  my  good  fellow,  you  have  been  v.'cak  ;  what  I 
wish  to  point  out  to  you  is,  that  you  have  been  weak.  I  may 
desire  to  turn  this  little  incident  to  my  account  (indeed,  I  do — 
I'll  not  deny  it),  but  my  account  does  not  lie  in  probing  it,  or 
using  it  against  you." 

"What  do  you   call  using  it  against  me?"  asked  Jonas, 
who  had  not  yet  changed  his  attitude. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Montague,  with  a  laugh.     "  We'll  not  enter 
into  that." 

"  Using  it.  to  make  a  beggar  of  me.  Is  that  the  use  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Ecod,"  muttered  Jonas,  bitterly.  "  That's  the  use  in 
which  your  account  docs  lie.     You  speak  the  truth  there." 

"  I  wish  you  to  venture  (it's  a  very  safe  venture)  a  little 
more  with  us,  certainly,  and  to  keep  quiet,"  said  Montague. 
"  You  promised  me  you  would  ;  and  you  must.  I  say  it 
plainly,  Chuzzlewit,  you  must.  Reason  the  matter.  If  you 
don't,  my  secret  is  worthless  to  me  ;  and  being  so,  it  may  as  well 
become  the  public  property  as  mine  :  better,  for  I  shall  gain 
some  credit,  bringing  it  to  light.  I  want  you,  besides,  to  act 
as  a  decoy  in  a  case  I  have  already  told  you  of.  You  don't 
mind  that,  I  know.  You  care  nothing  for  the  man  (you  care 
nothing  for  any  man  ;  you  are  too  sharp  ;  so  am  I,  I  hope)  ; 
and  could  bear  any  loss  of  his,  with  pious  fortitude.  Ha,  ha, 
ha !  You  have  tried  to  escape  from  the  first  consequence. 
You  cannot  escape  it,  I  assure  you.  I  have  shown  you  that 
to-day.  Now,  I  am  not  a  moral  man,  you  know.  I  am  not 
the  least  in  the  world  affected  by  anything  you  may  have  done 
by  any  little  indiscretion  you  may  have  committed  ;  but  I  wish 
to  profit  by  it,  if  I  can  ;  and  to  a  man  of  your  intelligence  I 
make  that  free  confession.  I  am  not  at  all  singular  in  that 
infirmity.  Ever}'body  profits  by  the  indiscretion  of  his  neigh- 
bor ;  and  the  people  in  the  best  repute,  the  most.  Why  do 
you  give  me  this  trouble  ?     It  must  come  to  a  friendly  agree- 


634  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ment,  or  an  unfriendly  crash.     It  must.     If  the  former,  you 

are  very  little  hurt.  If  the  latter — well !  you  know  best  what 
is  likely  to  happen  then." 

Jonas  left  the  window,  and  walked  up  close  to  him.  He 
did  not  look  him  in  the  face  ;  it  was  not  his  habit  to  do  that  ; 
but  he  kept  his  eyes  towards  him — on  his  breast,  or  there- 
abouts— and  was  at  great  pains  to  speak  slowly  and  distinctly, 
in  reply.  Just  as  a  man  in  a  state  of  conscious  drunkenness 
might  be. 

"  Lying  is  of  no  use,  now,"  he  said.  "  I  did  think  of  get- 
ting away  this  morning,  and  making  better  terms  with  you 
from  a  distance." 

"  To  be  sure  !  To  be  sure  !  "  replied  Montague.  "  Noth- 
ing more  natural.  I  foresaw  that,  and  provided  against  it. 
But  I  am  afraid  I  am  interrupting  you." 

"How  the  devil,"  pursued  Jonas,  with  a  still  greater 
effort,  "  you  made  choice  of  your  messenger,  and  where  you 
found  him,  I'll  not  ask  you.  I  owed  him  one  good  turn  be- 
fore to-day.  If  you  are  so  careless  of  men  in  general,  as  you 
said  you  were  just  now,  you  are  quite  indifferent  to  what  be- 
comes of  such  a  crop-tailed  cur  as  that,  and  will  leave  me  to 
settle  my  account  with  him  in  my  own  manner." 

If  he  had  raised  his  eyes  to  his  companion's  face,  he  would 
have  seen  that  Montague  was  evidently  unable  to  compre- 
hend his  meaning.  But,  continuing  to  stand  before  him, 
with  his  furtive  gaze  directed  as  before,  and  pausing  here, 
only  to  moisten  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  the  fact  was  lost 
upon  him.  It  might  have  struck  a  close  observer  that  this 
fixed  and  steady  glance  of  Jonas's,  was  a  part  of  the  altera- 
tion which  had  taken  place  in  his  demeanor.  He  kept  it 
riveted  on  one  spot,  with  which  his  thoughts  had  manifestly 
nothing  to  do ;  like  as  a  juggler  walking  on  a  cord  or  wire  to 
any  dangerous  end,  holds  some  object  in  his  sight  to  steady 
him,  and  never  wanders  from  it,  lest  he  trip. 

Montague  was  quick  in  his  rejoinder,  though  he  made  it 
at  a  venture.  There  was  no  difference  of  opinion  between 
him  and  his  friend  on  that  point.     Not  the  least. 

"  Your  great  discovery,"  Jonas  proceeded,  with  a  savage 
sneer  that  got  the  better  of  him  for  a  moment,  "  may  be  true, 
and  may  be  false.  Whichever  it  is,  I  dare  say  I'm  no  worse 
than  other  men." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Tigg.  "  Not  a  bit.  We're  all  alike— 
or  nearly  so." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  635 

"  I  want  to  know  this,"  Jonas  went  on  to  say ;  "  is  it  your 
own  ?     You'll  not  wonder  at  my  asking  the  question." 

"  My  own  !  "  repeated  Montague. 

"  Ay !  "  returned  the  other,  gruffly.  "  Is  it  known  to 
anybody  else?     Come  !     Don't  waver  about  that." 

"No!"  said  Montague,  without  the  smallest  hesitation. 
"  What  would  it  be  worth,  do  you  think,  unless  I  had  the 
keeping  of  it  ?  " 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Jonas  looked  at  him.  After  a 
pause  he  put  out  his  hand,  and  said,  with  a  laugh  : 

"  Come  !  make  things  easy  to  me,  and  I'm  yours.  I  don't 
know  that  I  may  not  be  better  off  here,  after  all,  than  if  I  had 
gone  away  this  morning.  But  here  I  am,  and  here  I'll  stay 
now.     Take  vour  oath  !  " 

He  cleared  his  throat,  for  he  was  speaking  hoarsely,  and 
said  in  a  lighter  tone  : — 

"  Shall  I  go  to  Pecksniff  !     When  ?     Say  when  !  " 

"  Immediately  !  "  cried  Montague.  "  He  cannot  be  en- 
ticed too  soon." 

"  Ecod  !  "  cried  Jonas, with  a  wild  laugh.  "There's some 
fun  in  catching  that  old  hypocrite.  I  hate  him.  Shall  I  go 
to-night  t  " 

"Ay!  This,"  said  Montague,  ecstatically,  "is  like 
business !  We  understand  each  other  now  ?  To-night,  my 
good  fellow,  by  all  means." 

"  Come  with  me,"  cried  Jonas.  "  We  must  make  a  dash  : 
go  down  in  state,  and  carry  documents,  for  he's  a  deep  file  to 
deal  with,  and  must  be  drawn  on  with  an  artful  hand,  or  he'll 
not  follow.  I  know  him.  As  I  can't  take  your  lodgings  or 
your  dinners  down,  I  must  take  you.  Will  you  come  to- 
night .? " 

His  friend  appeared  to  hesitate  ;  and  neither  to  have  an- 
ticipated this  proposal,  nor  to  relish  it  very  much. 

"  We  can  concert  our  plans  upon  the  road,"  said  Jonas. 
"  We  must  not  go  direct  to  him,  but  cross  over  from  some 
other  place,  and  turn  out  of  our  way  to  see  him.  I  may  not 
want  to  introduce  you,  but  I  must  have  you  on  the  spot.  I 
know  the  man,  I  tell  you." 

"  But,  what  if  the  man  knows  me  ? "  said  Montague, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  He  know  !  "  cried  Jonas,  "  Don't  you  run  that  risk 
with  fifty  men  a  day  !  Would  your  father  know  you  .''  Did  / 
know  you  ?     Ecod  !  you  were  another  figure  when  I  saw  you 


636  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

first.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  see  the  rents  and  patches  now  !  No 
false  hair  then,  no  black  dye  !  You  were  another  sort  of  joker, 
in  those  days,  you  were  !  You  even  spoke  different,  then. 
You've  acted  the  gentleman  so  seriously  since,  that  you've 
taken  in  yourself.  If  he  should  know  you,  what  does  it 
matter  ?  Such  a  change  is  a  proof  of  your  success.  You 
know  that,  or  you  would  not  have  made  yourself  known  to  me. 
Will  you  come  ?  " 

"  My  good  fellow,"  said  Montague,  still  hesitating,  "  I 
can  trust  you  alone." 

"  Trust  me  !  Ecod,  you  may  trust  me  now  far  enough. 
I'll  try  to  go  away  no  more — no  more  !  "  He  stopped,  and 
added  in  a  more  sober  tone,  "  I  can't  get  on  without  you. 
Will  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Montague,  "  if  that's  your  opinion,"  and  they 
shook  hands  upon  it. 

The  boisterous  manner  which  Jonas  had  exhibited  during 
the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  and  which  had  gone  on 
rapidly  increasing  with  almost  every  word  he  had  spoken — 
from  the  time  when  he  looked  his  honorable  friend  in  the 
face  until  now — did  not  now  subside,  but,  remaining  at  its 
height,  abided  by  him.  Most  unusual  with  him  at  any  period  ; 
most  inconsistent  with  his  temper  and  constitution — especially 
unnatural  it  would  appear  in  one  so  darkly  circumstanced  ;  it 
abided  by  him.  It  was  not  like  the  effect  of  wine,  or  any 
ardent  drink,  for  he  was  perfectly  coherent.  It  even  made 
him  proof  against  the  usual  influence  of  such  means  of  excite- 
ment ;  for,  although  he  drank  deeply  several  times  that  day, 
with  no  reserve  or  caution,  he  remained  exactly  the  same 
man,  and  his  spirits  neither  rose  nor  fell  in  the  least  observ- 
able degree. 

Deciding,  after  some  discussion,  to  travel  at  night,  in 
order  that  the  day's  business  might  not  be  broken  in  upon, 
they  took  counsel  together  in  reference  to  the  means.  Mr. 
Montague  being  of  opinion  that  four  horses  were  advisable,  at 
all  events  for  the  first  stage,  as  throwing  a  great  deal  of  dust 
into  people's  eyes,  in  more  senses  than  one,  a  travelling  char- 
iot and  four  lay  under  orders  for  nine  o'clock.  Jonas  did  not 
go  home,  observing,  that  his  being  obliged  to  leave  town  on 
business  in  so  great  a  hurry,  would  be  a  good  excuse  for  hav- 
ing turned  back  so  unexpectedly  in  the  morning.  So  he  wrote 
a  note  for  his  portmanteau,  and  sent  it  by  a  messenger,  who 
duly  brought  his  luggage  back,  with  a  short  note  from  that 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  637 

Other  piece  of  luggage,  his  wife,  expressive  of  her  wish  to 
be  allowed  to  come  and  see  him  for  a  moment.  To  this  re- 
quest he  sent  for  answer,  "she  had  better;"  and  one  such 
threatening  affirmative  being  sufficient,  in  defiance  of  the 
English  grammar,  to  express  a  negative,  she  kept  away. 

Mr.  Montague,  being  much  engaged  in  the  course  of  the 
day,  Jonas  bestowed  his  spirits  chiefly  on  the  doctor,  with 
whom  he  lunched  in  the  medical  officer's  own  room.  On  his 
way  thither,  encountering  Mr.  Nadgett  in  the  outer  room,  he 
bantered  that  stealthy  gentleman  on  always  appearing  anxious 
to  avoid  him,  and  inquired  if  he  were  afraid  of  him.  Mr. 
Nadgett  slyly  answered,  "  No,  but  he  believed  it  must  be  his 
way,  as  he  had  been  charged  with  much  the  same  kind  of 
thing  before." 

Mr.  Montague  was  listening  to,  or,  to  speak  with  greater 
elegance,  he  overheard,  this  dialogue.  As  soon  as  Jonas  was 
gone,  he  beckoned  Nadgett  to  him  with  the  feather  of  his  pen, 
and  whispered  in  his  ear, 

"  Who  gave  him  my  letter  this  morning  ?  " 
"  My  lodger,   sir,"  said  Nadgett   behind   the  palm  of   his 
hand. 

"  How  came  that  about  ?  " 

"  I  found  him  on  the  wharf,  sir.  Being  so  much  hurried, 
and  you  not  arrived,  it  was  necessary  to  do  something.  It 
fortunately  occurred  to  me,  that  if  I  gave  it  him  myself,  I 
could  be  of  no  further  use.  I  should  have  been  blown  upon 
immediately." 

"  Mr.  Nadgett,  you  are  a  jewel,"  said  Montague,  patting 
him  on  the  back.     "  What's  your  lodger's  name  .''  " 
"■  Pinch,  sir.     Mr.  Thomas  Pinch." 
Montague  reflected  for  a  little  while,  and  then  asked  : 
"  From  the  country,  do  you  know  ?  " 
"  From  Wiltshire,  sir,  he  told  me." 

They  parted  without  another  word.  To  see  Mr.  Nadgett 
bow  when  Montague  and  he  next  met,  and  to  see  Mr.  Montague 
acknowledge  it  anybody  might  have  undertaken  to  swear  that 
they  had  never  spoken  to  each  other  confldentially,  in  all  their 
lives. 

In  the  meanwhile,Mr.  Jonas  and  the  doctor  made  themselves 
very  comfortable  up  stairs,  over  a  bottle  of  the  old  Madeira,  and 
some  sandwiches  ;  for  the  doctor  having  been  already  invited 
to  dine  below  at  six  o'clock,  preferred  a  light  repast  for  lunch. 
It  was  advisable,  he  said,  in  two  points  of  view  :  first  as  be- 


638 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ing  healthy  in  itself.     Secondly,  as  being  the  better  preparar 
tion  for  dinner. 

"  And  you  are  bound  for  all  of  our  sakes  to  take  .a  partic 
ular  care  of  your  digestion,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
the  doctor,  smacking  his  lips  after  a  glass  of  wine  ;  "  for  de- 
pend upon  it,  it  is  worth  preserving.  It  must  have  been  in 
admirable  condition,  sir ;  perfect  chronometer-work.  Other- 
wise your  spirits  could  not  be  so  remarkable.  Your  bosom's 
lord  sits  lightly  on  its  throne,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  what's- 
his-name  says  in  the  play.  I  wish  he  said  it  in  a  play  which 
did  anything  like  common  justice  to  our  profession,  by  the 
bye.  There  is  an  apothecary  in  that  drama,  sir,  which  is  a 
low  thing  ;  vulgar,  sir  ;  out  of  nature  altogether." 

Mr.  Jobling  pulled  out  his  shirt-frill  of  fine  linen  as  though 
he  would  have  said,  "This  is  what  I  call  nature  in  a  medical 
man,  sir  ;  "  and  looked  at  Jonas  for  an  observation. 

Jonas  not  being  in  a  condition  to  pursue  the  subject, 
took  up  a  case  of  lancets  that  were  lying  on  the  table  and 
opened  it. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  doctor  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  "  I 
always  take  'em  out  of  my  pocket  before  I  eat.  My  pockets 
are  rather  tight.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Jonas  had  opened  one  of  the  shining  little  instruments  ;  and 
was  scrutinizing  it  with  a  look  as  sharp  and  eager  as  its  own 
bright  edge, 

"  Good  steel,  doctor.     Good  steel.     Eh  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,"  replied  the  doctor,  with  the  faltering  modesty  of 
ownership.  "  One  might  open  a  vein  pretty  dexterously  with 
that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"  It  has  opened  a  good  many  in  its  time,  I  suppose  ?  " 
said  Jonas,  looking  at  it  with  growing  interest. 

"  Not  a  few,  my  dear  sir,  not  a  few.  It  has  been  engaged 
in  a — in  a  pretty  good  practice,  I  believe  I  may  say,"  replied 
the  doctor,  coughing  as  if  the  matter-of-fact  were  so  ver}'  dry 
and  literal  that  he  couldn't  help  it.  In  a  pretty  good  practice," 
repeated  the  doctor  putting  another  glass  of  wine  to  his  lips. 

"  Now,  could  you  cut  a  man's  throat  with  such  a  thing  as 
this?  "  demanded  Jonas. 

"  Oh  certainly,  certainly,  if  you  took  him  in  the  right  place," 
returned  the  doctor.     "  It  all  depends  upon  that." 

"  Where  you  have  your  hand  now,  hey  ?  "  cried  Jonas, 
bending  forward  to  look  at  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor;  "  that's  the  jugular." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT.  639 

Jonas,  in  his  vivacity,  made  a  sudden  sawing  in  the  air,  so 
close  behind  the  doctor's  jugular,  that  he  turned  quite  red. 
Then  Jonas  (in  the  same  strange  spirit  of  vivacity)  burst  into 
a  loud  discordant  laugh. 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head  :  "  edge  tools, 
edge  tools  ;  never  play  with  'em.  A  veiy  remarkable  instance 
of  the  skilful  use  of  edge-tools,  by  the  way,  occurs  to  me  at 
this  moment.  It  was  a  case  of  murder.  I  am  afraid  it  was 
a  case  of  murder,  committed  by  a  member  of  our  profession ; 
it  was  so  artistically  done." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Jonas.     "How  was  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Jobling,  "  the  thing  lies  in  a  nut-shell. 
A  certain  gentleman  was  found,  one  morning,  in  an  obscure 
street,  lying  in  an  angle  of  a  doorway — I  should  rather  say, 
leaning,  in  an  upright  position,  in  the  angle  of  a  doorway,  and 
supported  consequently  by  the  doorway.  Upon  his  waistcoat 
there  was  one  solitary  drop  of  blood.  He  was  dead,  and  cold  ; 
and  had  been  murdered,  sir." 

"  Only  one  drop  of  blood  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Sir,  that  man,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  had  been  stabbed 
to  the  heart.  Had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart  with  such  dex- 
terity, sir,  that  he  had  died  instantly,  and  had  bled  internally. 
It  was  supposed  that  a  medical  friend  of  his  (to  whom  sus- 
picion attached)  had  engaged  him  in  conversation  on  some 
pretence  ;  had  taken  him,  very  likely,  by  the  button  in  a  con- 
versational manner ;  had  examined  his  ground  at  leisure  with 
his  other  hand ;  had  marked  the  exact  spot ;  drawn  out  the 
instrument,  whatever  it  was,  when  he  was  quite  prepared  ; 
and " 

"  And  done  the  trick,"  suggested  Jonas. 

"  Exactly  so,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  It  was  quite  an  opera- 
tion in  its  way,  and  very  neat.  The  medical  friend  never 
turned  up ;  and,  as  I  tell  you,  he  had  the  credit  of  it. 
Whether  he  did  it  or  not,  I  can't  say.  But,  having  had  the 
honor  to  be  called  in  with  two  or  three  of  my  professional 
brethren  on  the  occasion,  and  having  assisted  to  make  a 
careful  examination  of  the  wound,  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  it  would  have  reflected  credit  on  any  medical  man  ; 
and  that  in  an  unprofessional  person,  it  could  not  but  be  con- 
sidered, either  as  an  extraordinary  work  of  art,  or  the  result 
of  a  still  more  extraordinary,  happy,  and  favorable  conjunction 
of  circumstances." 

His  hearer  was  so  much  interested  in  this  case,  that  the 


640  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

doctor  went  on  to  elucidate  it  with  the  assistance  of  his  own 
finger  and  thumb  and  waistcoat  ;  and  at  Jonas's  request,  he 
took  the  further  trouble  of  going  into  a  corner  of  the  room, 
and  alternately  representing  the  murdered  man  and  the  mur- 
derer ;  which  "^he  did  with  great  effect.  The  bottle  being 
emptied  and  the  story  done,  Jonas  was  in  precisely  the  same 
boisterous  and  unusual  state  as  when  they  had  sat  down.  If, 
as  Jobling  theorized,  his  good  digestion  were  the  cause,  he 
must  have  been  a  very  ostrich. 

At  dinner,  it  was  just  the  same  ;  and  after  dinner  too  ; 
though  wine  was  drunk  in  abundance,  and  various  rich  meats 
eaten.  At  nine  o'clock  it  was  still  the  same.  There  being  a 
lamp  in  the  carriage,  he  swore  they  would  take  a  pack  of 
cards,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  \  and  with  these  things  under  his 
cloak,  went  down  to  the  door. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  Tom  Thumb,  and  get  to  bed  !  " 

This  was  the  salutation  he  bestowed  on  Mr.  Bailey,  who, 
booted  and  wrapped  up,  stood  at  the  carriage-door  to  help 
him  in. 

"  To  bed,  sir  !     I'm  a  going,  too,"  said  Bailey. 

He  alighted  quickly,  and  walked  back  into  the  hall,  where 
Montague  was  lighting  a  cigar,  conducting  Mr.  Bailey  with 
him,  by  the  collar. 

"  You  are  not  a  going  to  take  this  monkey  of  a  boy,  are 
you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Montague. 

He  gave  the  boy  a  shake,  and  threw  him  roughly  aside. 
There  was  more  of  his  familiar  self  in  the  action,  than  in  any- 
thing he  had  done  that  day;  but  he  broke  out  laughing 
immediately  afterwards,  and  making  a  thrust  at  the  doctor 
with  his  hand,  in  imitation  of  his  representation  of  the  medical 
friend,  went  out  to  the  carriage  again,  and  took  his  seat.  His 
companion  followed  immediately.  Mr.  Bailey  climbed  into 
the  rumble. 

"  It  will  be  a  stormy  night !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  as 
they  started 


MARTIN  CFIUZZLEWIT.  645 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

CONTINUATION    OF    THE   ENTERPRISE  OF    MR.  JONAS    AND  HIS 

FRIEND. 

The  Doctor's  prognostication  in  reference  to  the  weather 
was  speedily  verified.  Although  the  weather  was  not  a  patient 
of  his,  and  no  third  party  had  required  him  to  give  an  opinion 
on  the  case,  the  quick  fulhhnent  of  his  prophecy  may  be  taken 
as  an  instance  of  his  professional  tact ;  for,  unless  the 
threatening  aspect  of  the  night  had  been  perfectly  plain  and 
unmistakable,  Mr.  Jobling  would  never  have  compromised 
his  reputation  by  delivering  any  sentiments  on  the  subject. 
He  used  this  principle  in  Medicine  with  too  much  success,  to 
be  unmindful  of  it  in  his  commonest  transactions. 

It  was  one  of  those  hot,  silent  nights,  when  people  sit  at 
windows,  listening  for  the  thunder  which  they  know  will 
shortly  break  ;  when  they  recall  dismal  tales  of  hurricanes 
and  earthquakes;  and  of  lonely  travellers  on  open  plains,  and 
lonely  ships  at  seas,  struck  by  lightning.  Lightning  flashed 
and  quivered  on  the  black  horizon  even  now  ;  and  hollow 
murmurinfrs  were  in  the  wind,  as  thou2;h  it  had  been  blowinsr 
where  the  thunder  rolled,  and  still  was  charged  with  its  ex- 
hausted echoes.  But  the  storm,  though  gathering  swiftly, 
had  not  yet  come  up  ;  and  the  prevailing  stillness  was  the 
more  solemn,  from  the  dull  intelligence  that  seemed  to  hover 
in  the  air,  of  noise  and  conflict  afar  off. 

It  was  very  dark  ;  but  in  the  murky  sky  there  were  masses 
of  cloud  which  shone  with  a  lurid  light,  like  monstrous  heaps 
of  copper  that  had  been  heated  in  a  furnace,  and  were  growing 
cold.  These  had  been  advancing  steadily  and  slowly,  but 
they  were  now  motionless,  or  nearly  so.  As  the  carriage 
clattered  round  the  corners  of  the  streets,  it  passed  at  every 
one,  a  knot  of  persons,  who  had  conie  there — many  from 
their  houses  close  at  hand,  without  hats — to  look  up  at  that 
quarter  of  the  sky.  And  now,  a  very  few  large  drops  of  rain 
began  to  fall,  and  thunder  rumbled  in  the  distance. 

Jonas  sat  in  accruer  of  the  carriage,  with  his  bottle  resting 
on   his   knee,  and   gripped  as   tightly  in   his   hand,  as   if    he 

41 


642  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

would  have  ground  its  neck  to  powder  if  he  could.  Instinct- 
ively attracted  by  the  night,  he  had  laid  aside  the  pack  of 
cards  upon  the  cushion  ;  and  with  the  same  involuntary  im- 
pulse, so  intelligible  to  both  of  them  as  not  to  occasion  a 
remark  on  either  side,  his  companion  had  extinguished  the 
lamp.  The  front  glasses  were  down  ;  and  they  sat  looking 
silently  out  upon  the  gloomy  scene  before  them. 

They  were  clear  of  London,  or  as  clear  of  it  as  travellers 
can  be,  whose  way  lies  on  the  Western  Road,  within  a  stage 
of  that  enormous  city.  Occasionally,  they  encountered  a  foot- 
passenger,  hurrying  to  the  nearest  place  of  shelter  ;  or  some 
unwieldy  cart  proceeding  onward  at  a  heavy  trot,  with  the 
same  end  in  view.  Little  clusters  of  such  vehicles  were 
gathered  round  the  stable-yard  or  baiting-place  of  every  way- 
side tavern  ;  while  their  dri\'ers  watched  the  weather  from  the 
doors  and  open  windows,  or  made  merry  witliin.  Everywhere, 
the  people  were  disposed  to  bear  each  other  company,  rather 
than  sit  alone  ;  so  that  groups  of  watchful  faces  seemed  to  be 
looking  out  upon  the  night  and  them,  from  almost  eveiy  house 
they  passed. 

It  may  appear  strange  that  this  should  have  disturbed 
Jonas,  or  rendered  him  uneasy :  but  it  did.  After  muttering 
to  himself,  and  often  changing  his  position,  he  drew  up  the 
blind  on  his  side  of  the  carriage,  and  turned  his  shoulder 
sulkily  towards  it.  But  he  neither  looked  at  his  companion, 
nor  broke  the  silence  which  prevailed  between  them,  and 
which  had  fallen  so  suddenly  upon  himself,  by  addressing  a 
word  to  him. 

The  thunder  rolled,  the  lightning  flashed  ;  the  rain  poured 
down,  like  Heaven's  wrath.  Surrounded  at  one  moment  by 
intolerable  light,  and  at  the  next  by  pitchy  darkness,  they  still 
pressed  forward  on  their  journey.  Even  when  they  arrived  at 
the  end  of  the  stage,  and  might  have  tarried,  they  did  not  ; 
but  ordered  horses  out,  immediately.  Nor  had  this  any  refer- 
ence to  some  five  minutes'  lull,  which  at  that  time  seemed  to 
promise  a  cessation  of  the  storm.  They  held  their  course  as 
if  they  were  impelled  and  driven  by  its  fury.  Although  they 
had  not  exchanged  a  dozen  words,  and  might  have  tarried 
very  well,  they  seemed  to  feel,  by  joint  consent,  that  onward 
they  must  go. 

Louder  and  louder  the  deep  thunder  rolled,  as  through  the 
myriad  halls  of  some  vast  temple  in  the  sky ;  fier-cer  and 
brighter  became   the  lightning ;   more  and  more   heavily  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLFAVIT.  643 

rain  poured  down.  The  horses  (they  were  travelling  now  with 
a  single  pair)  plunged  and  started  from  the  rills  of  quivering 
fire  that  seemed  to  wind  along  the  ground  before  them  ;  but 
there  these  two  men  sat,  and  forward  they  went  as  if  they  were 
led  on  by  an  invisible  attraction. 

The  eye,  partaking  of  the  quickness  of  the  flashing  light, 
saw  in  its  every  gleam  a  multitude  of  objects  which  it  could 
not  see  at  steady  noon  in  fifty  times  that  period.  Bells  in 
steeples,  with  the  rope  and  wheel  that  moved  them  ;  ragged 
nests  of  birds  in  cornices  and  nooks  ;  faces  full  of  consternation 
in  the  tilted  wagons  that  came  tearing  past,  their  frightened 
teams  ringing  out  a  warning  which  the  thunder  drowned  ;  har- 
rows and  ploughs  left  out  infields  ;  miles  upon  miles  of  hedge- 
divided  countiy,  with  the  distant  fringe  of  trees  as  obvious  as 
the  scarecrow  in  the  beanfield  close  at  hand  ;  in  a  trembling, 
vivid,  flickering  instant,  everything  was  clear  and  plain  :  then 
came  a  flush  of  red  into  the  yellow  light ;  a  change  to  blue  ; 
a  brightness  so  intense  that  there  was  nothing  else  but  light ,; 
and  then  the  deepest  and  profoundest  darkness. 

The  lightning  being  very  crooked  and  very  dazzling,  may 
have  presented  or  assisted  a  curious  optical  illusion,  which 
suddenly  rose  before  the  startled  eyes  of  Montague  in  the 
carriage,  and  as  rapidly  disappeared.  He  thought  he  saw 
Jonas  with  his  hand  lifted,  and  the  bottle  clenched  in  it  like 
a  hammer,  making  as  if  he  would  aim  a  blow  at  his  head.  At 
the  same  time  he  observed  (or  so  believed),  an  expression  in 
his  face — a  combination  of  the  unnatural  excitement  he  had 
shown  all  day,  with  a  wild  hatred  and  fear — which  might  have 
rendered  a  wolf  a  less  terrible  companion. 

He  uttered  an  involuntary  exclamation,  and  called  to  the 
driver,  who  brought  his  horses  to  a  stop  with  all  speed. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  as  he  supposed  ;  for  although  he 
had  not  taken  his  eyes  off  his  companion,  and  had  not  seen 
him  move,  he  sat  reclining  in  his  corner  as  before. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Jonas.  "  Is  that  your  general 
way  of  waking  out  of  your  sleep  .''  " 

"  I  could  swear,"  returned  the  other,  "  that  I  have  not 
closed  my  eyes  !  " 

"When  you  have  sworn  it,"  said  Jonas,  composedly,  "we 
had  better  go  on  again,  if  you  have  only  stopped  for  that." 

He  uncorked  the  bottle  with  the  help  of  his  teeth ;  and 
putting  it  to  his  lips,  took  a  long  draught. 

"  I  wish  we  had  never  started  on  this  journey.     This  is 


644 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


not,"  said  Montague,  recoiling  instinctively,  and  speaking  in  a 
voice  that  betrayed  his  agitation,  "  this  is  not  a  night  to  travel 
in." 

"  Ecod  1  you're  right  there,"  returned  Jonas  ;  "  and  we 
shouldn't  be  out  in  it  but  for  you.  If  you  hadn't  kept  me 
waiting  all  day,  we  might  have  been  at  Salisbury  by  this  time ; 
snug  abed  and  fast  asleep.     What  are  we  stopping  for  t  " 

His  companion  put  his  head  out  of  window  for  a  moment, 
and  drawing  it  in  again,  observed  (as  if  that  were  his  cause  of 
anxiety),  that  the  boy  was  drenched  to  the  skin. 

"  Serve  him  right,"  said  Jonas.  "  I'm  glad  of  it.  What 
the  devil  are  we  stopping  for  ?  Are  you  going  to  spread  him 
out  to  dry  ?  " 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  take  him  inside,"  observed  the 
other  with  some  hesitation. 

"  Oh  !  thankee  !  "  said  Jonas.  "  We  don't  want  any  damp 
boys  here,  especially  a  young  imp  like  him.  Let  him  be 
where  he  is.  He  ain't  afraid  of  a  little  thunder  and  lightning, 
I  dare  say ;  whoever  else  is.  Go  on,  driver  !  We  had  better 
have ///w  inside  perhaps,"  he  muttered  with  a  laugh;  "and 
the  horses  ! " 

"Don't  go  too  fast,"  cried  Montague  to  the  postilion; 
"  and  take  care  how  you  go.  You  were  nearly  in  the  ditch 
when  I  called  to  you." 

This  was  not  true  ;  and  Jonas  bluntly  said  so,  as  they 
moved  forward  again.  Montague  took  little  or  no  heed  of 
what  he  said,  but  repeated  that  it  was  not  anight  for  travelling, 
and  showed  himself,  both  then  and  afterwards,  unusually 
anxious. 

From  this  time,  Jonas  recovered  his  former  spirits,  if  such 
a  term  may  be  employed. to  express  the  state  in  which  he  had 
left  the  city.  He  had  his  bottle  often  at  his  mouth  ;  roared 
out  snatches  of  songs,  without  the  least  regard  to  time  or  tune 
or  voice,  or  anything  but  loud  discordance ;  and  urged  his 
silent  friend  to  be  merry  with  him. 

"  You're  the  best  company  in  the  world,  my  good  fellow," 
said  Montague  with  an  effort,  "  and  in  general  irresistible  ; 
but  to  night — do  you  hear  it  ?  " 

"Ecod  I  hear\ind  see  to  it  too,"  cried  Jonas,  shading  his 
eyes,  for  the  moment,  from  the  lightning  which  was  flashing, 
not  in  any  one  direction,  but  all  around  them.  "What  of 
that  ?  It  don't  change  you,  nor  me,  nor  our  affairs.  Chorus, 
chorus. 


MAKTIiV  CHUZZLEWIT. 


It  m?y  lighten  and  storm, 

Till  It  hunt  the  red  worm 
From  the  i^jrass  where  tiie  gibbet  is  driven  ; 

But  )t  cin't  hurt  the  dead, 

And  It  won't  save  the  head 
That  is  doom'd  to  be  ntled  and  riven. 


645 


That  must  be  a  precious  old  song,"  he  added  with  an  oath,  as 
he  stopped  short  in  a  kind  of  wonder  at  himself.  "  I  haven't 
heard  it  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  how  it  comes  into  my  head 
now,  unless  the  lightning  put  it  there,  I  don't  know.  '  Can't 
hurt  the  dead  ! '  No  no.  '  And  won't  save  the  head  ! '  No  no. 
No  !    Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

His  mirth  was  of  such  a  savage  and  extraordinary  character, 
and  was,  in  an  explicable  way,  at  once  so  suited  to  the  night, 
and  yet  such  a  coarse  intrusion  on  its  terrors,  that  his  fellow- 
traveller,  always  a  coward,  shrunk  from  him  in  positive  fear. 
Instead  of  Jonas  being  his  tool  and  instrument,  their  places 
seemed  to  be  reversed.  But  there  was  reason  for  this  too, 
Montague  thought ;  since  the  sense  of  his  debasement  might 
naturally  inspire  such  a  man  with  the  wish  to  assert  a  noisy 
independence,  and  in  that  license  to  forget  his  real  condition. 
Being  quick  enough,  in  reference  to  such  subjects  of  contem- 
plation, he  was  not  long  in  taking  this  argument  into  account, 
and  giving  it  its  full  weight.  But,  still,  he  felt  a  vague  sense 
of  alarm,  and  was  depressed  and  uneasy. 

He  was  certain  he  had  not  been  asleep  ;  but  his  eyes  might 
have  deceived  him  ;  for,  looking  at  Jonas  now  in  any  interval 
of  darkness,  he  could  represent  his  figure  to  himself  in  any 
attitude  his  state  of  mind  suggested.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
knew  full  well  that  Jonas  had  no  reason  to  love  him  ;  and 
even  taking  the  piece  of  pantomime  which  had  so  impressed 
his  mind  to  be  a  real  gesture,  and  not  the  working  of  his  fancy, 
the  most  that  could  be  said  of  it,  was,  that  it  was  quite  in  keep- 
ing with  the  rest  of  his  diabolical  fun,  and  had  the  same  im- 
potent expression  of  truth  in  it.  "  If  he  could  kill  me  with  a 
wish,"  thought  the  swindler,  "  I  should  not  live  long." 

He  resolved,  that  when  he  should  have  had  his  use  of 
Jonas,  he  would  restrain  him  with  an  iron  curb  ;  in  the  mean- 
time, that  he  could  not  do  better  than  leave  him  to  take  his 
own  way,  and  preserve  his  own  peculiar  description  of  good- 
humor,  after  his  own  uncommon  manner.  It  was  no  great 
sacrifice  to  bear  with  him  :  "  for  when  all  is  got  that  can  be 
got,"  thought  Montague,  "  I  shall  decamp  across  the  water, 
and  have  the  laugh  on  my  side — and  the  gains." 


646  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWn\ 

Such  were  his  reflections  from  hour  to  hour ;  his  state  of 
mind  being  one  in  which  the  same  thoughts  constantly  present 
themselves  over  and  over  again  in  wearisome  repetition  ;  while 
Jonas,  who  appeared  to  have  dismissed  reflection  altogether, 
entertained  himself  as  before.  They  agreed  that  they  would 
go  to  Salisbury,  and  would  cross  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  in  the 
morning  j  and  at  the  prospect  of  deluding  that  worthy  gentle- 
man, the  spirits  of  his  amiable  son-in-law  became  more  bois- 
terous than  ever. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  the  thunder  died  away,  but  still 
rolled  gloomily  and  mournfully  in  the  distance.  The  lightning 
too,  though  now  comparatively  harmless,  was  yet  bright  and 
frequent.     The  rain  was  quite  as  violent  as  it  had  ever  been. 

It  was  their  ill-fortune,  at  about  the  time  of  dawn  and  in 
the  last  stage  of  their  journey,  to  have  a  restive  pair  of  horses. 
These  animals  had  been  greatly  terrified  in  their  stable  by  the 
tempest  ;  and  coming  out  into  the  dreary  interval  between 
night  and  morning,  when  the  glare  of  the  lightning  was  yet 
unsubdued  by  day,  and  the  various  objects  in  their  view 
were  presented  in  indistinct  and  exaggerated  shapes  which 
they  would  not  have  worn  by  night,  they  gradually  became 
less  and  less  capable  of  control  ;  until  taking  a  sudden  fright 
at  something  by  the  roadside,  they  dashed  off  wildly  ddwn  a 
steep  hill,  flung  the  driver  from  his  saddle,  drew  the  carriage 
to  the  brink  of  a  ditch,  stumbled  headlong  down  and  threw  it 
crashing  over. 

The  travellers  had  opened  the  carriage  door,  and  had 
either  jumped  or  fallen  out.  Jonas  was  the  first  to  stagger  to 
his  feet.  He  felt  sick  and  weak,  and  very  giddy,  and,  reeling 
to  a  five-barred  gate,  stood  holding  by  it,  looking  drowsily 
about,  as  the  landscape  swam  before  his  eyes.  But,  by  de- 
grees, he  grew  more  conscious,  and  presently  observed  that 
Montague  was  lying  senseless  in  the  road,  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  horses. 

In  an  instant,  as  if  his  own  faint  body  were  suddenly  ani- 
mated by  a  demon,  he  ran  to  the  horses'  heads  ;  and  pulling 
at  their  bridles  with  all  his  force,  set  them  struggling  and 
plunging  with  such  mad  violence  as  brought  their  hoofs  at 
every  effort  nearer  to  the  skull  of  the  prostrate  man  ;  and 
must  have  led  in  half  a  minute  to  his  brains  being  dashed  out 
on  the  highway. 

As  he  did  this,  he  fought  and  contended  with  them  like  a 
man  possessed,  making  them  wilder  by  his  cries. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  647 


"  Whoop  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  Whoop  !  again  !  another  ! 
A  little  more,  a  little  more!     Up,  ye  devils  !     Hillo  !  " 

As  he  heard  the  driver  who  had  risen  and  was  hurrying 
up,  crying  to  him  to  desist,  his  violence  increased. 

"  Hillo  !     Hillo  !  "  cried  Jonas. 

"  For  God's  sake  !  "  cried  the  driver.  "  The  gentleman — • 
in  the  road— he'll  be  killed  !" 

The  same  shouts  and  the  same  struggles  were  his  only 
answer.  But  the  man  darting  in  at  the  peril  of  his  own  life, 
saved  Montague's,  by  dragging  him  through  the  mire  and 
water  out  of  the  reach  of  present  harm.  That  done,  he  ran 
to  Jonas  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  his  knife  they  very  shortly  dis- 
engaged the  horses  from  the  broken  chariot,  and  got  them, 
cut  and  bleeding,  on  their  legs  again.  The  postilion  and 
Jonas  had  now  leisure  to  look  at  each  other,  which  they  had 
not  had  yet. 

"  Presence  of  mind,  presence  of  mind !  "  cried  Jonas, 
throwing  up  his  hands  wildly.  "  What  would  you  have  done 
without  me  !  " 

"  The  other  gentleman  would  have  done  badly  without 
me''  returned  the  man,  shaking  his  head.  "  You  should  have 
moved  him  first.     I  gave  him  up  for  dead." 

"  Presence  of  mind,  you  croaker,  presence  of  mind  !  "  cried 
Jonas,  with  a  harsh  loud  laugh,  "  Was  he  struck,  do  you 
think  }  " 

They  both  turned  to  look  at  him.  Jonas  muttered  some- 
thing to  himself,  wlien  he  saw  him  sitting  up  beneath  the 
hedge,  looking  vacantly  round. 

"  What's  the  matter  1  "  asked  Montague.  "  Is  anybody 
hurt  ?  " 

"  Ecod  !  "  said  Jonas,  "  it  don't  seem  so.  There  are  no 
bones  broke,  after  all." 

They  raised  him,  and  he  tried  to  walk.  He  was  a  good 
deal  shaken,  and  trembled  very  much.  I]ut  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  cuts  and  bruises  this  was  all  the  damage  he  had 
sustained. 

"Cuts  and  bruises,  eh?''  said  Jonas.  "We've  all  got 
them.     Only  cuts  and  bruises,  eh  ? " 

"  I  wouldn't  have  given  sixpence  for  the  gentleman's  head 
in  half  a  dozen  seconds  more,  for  all  he's  only  cut  and 
bruised,"  observed  the  post-boy.  "  If  ever  you're  in  an  accident 
of  this  sort  again,  sir,  which  I  hope  you  won't  be,  never  you 
pull  at  the  bridle  of  a  horse  that's  down,  when  there's  a  man's 


648  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

head  in  the  way.  That  can't  be  done  twice  without  tliere 
being  a  dead  man  in  the  case ;  it  would  have  ended  in  that, 
this  time,  as  sure  as  ever  you  were  born,  if  I  hadn't  come  up 
just  when  I  did." 

Jonas  repUed  by  advising  him  with  a  curse  to  hold  his 
tongue,  and  to  go  somewhere,  whither  he  was  not  very  likely 
to  go  of  his  own  accord.  But  Montague,  who  had  listened 
eagerly  to  every  word,  himself  diverted  the  subject,  by  ex- 
claiming :   "  Where's  the  boy  !  " 

"  Ecod,  I  forgot  that  monkey,"  said  Jonas.  "  What's 
become  of  him  !  "  A  very  brief  search  settled  that  question. 
The  unfortunate  Mr.  Bailey  had  been  thrown  sheer  over  the 
hedge  of  the  five-barred  gate  ;  and  was  lying  in  the  neighbor- 
ing field,  to  all  appearance  dead. 

"When  1  said  to-night,  that  I  wished  I  had  never  started 
on  this  journey,"  cried  his  master,  "  I  knew  it  was  an  ill-fated 
one.     Look  at  this  boy  !  " 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  growled  Jonas.  "  If  you  call  that  a  sign  of 
it—" 

"  Why,  what  should  I  call  a  sign  of  it  ?  "  asked  Montague, 
hurriedly.     "  What  do  you  mean  .?  " 

"  I  mean,"  said  Jonas,  stooping  down  over  the  body, 
"  that  I  never  heard  you  were  his  father,  or  had  any  particular 
reason  to  care  much  about  him.     Halloa.     Hold  up  here  !  " 

But  the  boy  was  past  holding  up,  or  being  held  up,  or 
giving  any  other  sign  of  life,  than  a  faint  and  fitful  beating  of 
the  heart.  After  some  discussion,  the  driver  mounted  the 
horse  which  had  been  least  injured,  and  took  the  lad  in  his 
arms,  as  well  as  he  could ;  while  Montague  and  Jonas  lead- 
ing the  other  horse,  and  carrying  a  trunk  between  them, 
walked  by  his  side  towards  Salisbury, 

"  You'd  get  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and  be  able  to  send 
assistance  to  meet  us,  if  you  went  forward,  post-boy,"  said 
Jonas.     "Trot  on  !  " 

"No,  no,"  cried  Montague  ;  "we'll  keep  together." 

"  Why,  what  a  chicken  you  are  !  You  are  not  afraid  of 
being  robbed  ;  are  you  t  "  said  Jonas. 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  anything,"  replied  the  other,  whose 
looks  and  manner  were  in  flat  contradiction  to  his  words, 
"But  we'll  keep  together." 

"You  were  mighty  anxious  about  the  boy,  a  minute  ago," 
said  Jonas.  "  1  suppose  you  know  that  he  may  die  in  the 
meantime  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  649 

"Ay,  ay.     I  know.     But  we'll  keep  together." 

As  it  was  clear  that  he  was  not  to  be  moved  from  this 
determination,  Jonas  made  no  other  rejoinder  than  such  as 
his  face  expressed  ;  and  they  proceeded  in  company.  They 
had  three  or  four  good  miles  to  travel  ;  and  tlie  way  was  not 
made  easier  by  the  state  of  the  road,  the  burden  ,by  which 
they  were  embarrassed,  or  their  own  stiff  and  sore  condition. 
After  a  sufificiently  long  and  painful  walk  they  arrived  at  the 
Inn  ;  and  having  knocked  the  people  up  (it  being  yet  very 
early  in  the  morning),  sent  out  messengers  to  see  to  the  car- 
riage and  its  contents,  and  roused  a  surgeon  from  his  bed  to 
tend  the  chief  sufferer.  All  the  service  he  could  render,  he 
rendered  promptly  and  skilfully.  But  he  gave  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  boy  was  laboring  under  a  severe  concussion  of 
the  brain,  and  that  Mr.  Bailey's  mortal  course  was  run. 

If  Montague's  strong  interest  in  the  announcement  could 
have  been  considered  as  unselfish,  in  any  degree,  it  might 
have  been  a  redeeming  trait  in  a  character  that  had  no  such 
lineaments  to  spare.  But  it  was  not  difficult  to  see  that,  for 
some  unexpressed  reason  best  appreciated  by  himself,  he 
attached  a  strange  value  to  the  company  and  presence  of  this 
mere  child.  When,  after  receiving  some  assistance  from  the 
surgeon  himself,  he  retired  to  the  bed-room  prepared  for  him, 
and  it  was  broad  day,  his  mind  was  still  dwelling  on  this 
theme. 

"I  would  rather  have  lost,"  he  said,  "a  thousand  pounds 
than  lost  the  boy  just  now.  But  I'll  return  home  alone.  I 
am  resolved  upon  that.  Chuzzlewit  shall  go  forward  first, 
and  I  will  follow  in  mv  own  time.  I'll  have  no  more  of  this," 
he  added,  wiping  his  damp  forehead.  "  Twenty-four  hours  of 
this  would  turn  my  hair  gray  !  " 

After  examining  his  chamber,  and  looking  under  the  bed, 
and  in  the  cupboards,  and  even  behind  the  curtains,  with 
unusual  caution  (although  it  was,  as  has  been  said,  broad 
day),  he  doubled-locked  the  door  by  which  he  had  entered,  and 
retired  to  rest.  There  was  another  door  in  the  room,  but  it 
was  locked  on  the  outer  side  ;  and  with  what  place  it  com- 
municated, he  knew  not. 

His  fears  or  evil  conscience  reproduced  this  door  in  all  his 
dreams.  He  dreamed  that  a  dreadful  secret  was  connected 
with  it,  a  secret  which  he  knew,  and  yet  did  not  know  ;  for 
although  he  was  heavily  responsible  for  it,  and  a  party  to  it, 
he  was   harassed  even  in  his  \ision  by  a  distracting  uncer- 


650 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


tainty  in  reference  to  its  import.  Incoherently  entwined  with 
this  dream  was  another,  which  represented  it  as  the  hiding-place 
of  an  enemy,  a  shadow,  a  phantom  ;  and  made  it  the  business 
of  his  life  to  keep  the  terrible  creature  closed  up,  and  prevent 
it  from  forcing  its  way  in  upon  him.  With  this  view  Nadgett, 
and  he,  and  a  strange  man  with  a  bloody  smear  upon  his  head 
(who  told  him  that  he  had  been  his  playfellow,  and  told  him, 
too,  the  real  name  of  an  old  schoolmate,  forgotten  until  then), 
worked  with  iron  plates  and  nails  to  make  the  door  secure ; 
but  though  they  worked  never  so  hard,  it  was  all  in  vain,  for 
the  nails  broke,  or  changed  to  soft  twigs,  or  what  was  worse, 
to  worms,  between  their  fingers  ;  the  wood  of  the  door 
splintered  and  crumbled,  so  that  even  nails  would  not  remain 
in  it  ;  and  the  iron  plates  curled  up  like  hot  paper.  All  this 
time  the  creature  on  the  other  side — whether  it  was  in  the 
shape  of  man,  or  beast,  he  neither  knew  nor  sought  to  know 
— was.  gfainins:  on  them.  But  his  greatest  terror  was  when 
the  man  with  the  bloody  smear  upon  his  head  demanded  of 
him  if  he  knew  this  creature's  name,  and  said  that  he  would 
whisper  it.  At  this  the  dreamer  fell  upon  his  knees,  his 
whole  blood  thrilling  with  inexplicable  fear,  and  held  his  ears. 
But  looking  at  the  speaker's  lips,  he  saw  that  they  formed  the 
utterance  of  the  letter  "  J  ;  "  and  crying  out  aloud  that  the 
secret  was  discovered,  and  they  were  all  lost,  he  awoke. 

Awoke  to  find  Jonas  standing  at  his  bedside  watching 
him.     And  that  very  door  wide  open. 

As  their  eyes  met,  Jonas  retreated  a  few  paces,  and  Mon- 
tague sprang  out  of  bed. 

"  Heyday  !  "  said  Jonas.     "  You're  all  alive  this  morning." 

"  Alive  !  "  the  other  stammered,  as  he  pulled  the  bell-rope 
violently  :  "What  are  you  doing  here  t  " 

"  It's  your  room  to  be  sure,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  but  I'm  almost 
inclined  to  ask  you  what  jou  are  doing  here  ?  My  room  is  on 
the  other  side  of  that  door.  No  one  told  me  last  night  not  to 
open  it.  I  thought  it  led  into  a  passage,  and  was  coming  out 
to  order  breakfast.      There's — there's  no  bell  in  my  room." 

Montague  had  in  the  meantime  admitted  the  man  with  his 
hot  water  and  boots,  who  hearing  this,  said,  yes,  there  was ; 
and  passed  into  the  adjoining  room  to  point  it  out,  at  the  head 
of  the  bed. 

"  r  couldn't  find  it,  then,"  said  Jonas  :  "it's  all  the  same. 
Shall  I  order  breakfast  ?  " 

Montague  answered  in  the  affirmative.     When  Jonas  had 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  65 1 

retired,  whistling,  through  his  own  room,  he  opened  the  door 
of  communication,  to  take  out  the  key  and  fasten  it  on  the 
inner  side.     But  it  was  taken  out  already. 

He  dragged  a  table  against  the  door,  and  sat  down  to 
collect  himself,  as  if  his  dreams  still  had  some  influence  upon 
his  mind. 

"  An  evil  journey,"  he  repeated  several  times.  "  An  evil 
journey.  But  I'll  travel  home  alone.  I'll  have  no  more  of 
this !  " 

His  presentiment,  or  superstition,  that  it  was  an  evil 
journey,  did  not  at  all  deter  him  from  doing  the  evil  for 
which  the  journey  was  undertaken.  With  this  in  view,  he 
dressed  himself  more  carefully  than  usual  to  make  a  favorable 
impression  on  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  and,  reassured  by  his  own 
appearance,  the  beauty  of  the  morning,  and  the  Hashing  of 
the  wet  boughs  outside  his  window  in  the  merry  sunshine,  was 
soon  sufficiently  inspirited  to  swear  a  few  round  oaths,  and 
hum  the  fag-end  of  a  song. 

But  he  still  muttered  to  himself  at  intervals,  for  all  that : 
"I'll  travel  home  alone!  " 


CHAPTER  XLHI. 

HAS  AN  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  FORTUNES  OF  SEVERAL  PEOPLE, 
MR.  PECKSNIFF  IS  EXHIBITED  IN  THE  PLENITUDE  OF  POWER, 
AND  WIELDS  THE  SAME  WITH  FORTITUDE  AND  MAGNANIM- 
ITY. 

On  the  night  of  the  storm,  Mrs.  Lupin,  hostess  of  the 
Blue  Dragon,  sat  by  herself  in  her  little  bar.  Her  solitary 
condition,  or  the  bad  weather,  or  both  united,  made  Mrs. 
Lupin  thoughtful,  not  to  say  sorrowful.  As  she  sat  with  her 
chin  upon  her  hand,  looking  out  through  a  low  back  lattice, 
rendered  dim  in  the  brightest  daytime  by  clustering  vine- 
leaves,  she  shook  her  head  very  often,  and  said,  "  Dear  me  ! 
Ah,  dear,  dear,  me  !  " 

It  was  a  melancholy  time,  even  in  the  snugness  of  the 
Dragon  bar.  The  rich  expanse  of  corn-field,  pasture-land, 
green  slope,  and  gentle  undulation,  with  its  sparkling  brooks, 


652  MARTIN  CHCZZLEWIT. 

its  many  hedgerows,  and  its  clumps  of  beautiful  trees,  was  black 
and  dreary,  from  the  diamond  panes  of  the  lattice  away  to  the 
far  horizon,  where  the.  thunder  seemed  to  roll  alon^  the  hills. 
The  heavy  ram  beat  down  the  tender  branches  of  vine  and 
jessamine,  and  trampled  on  them  in  its  fury ;  and  when  the 
lightning  gleamed,  it  showed  the  tearful  leaves  shivering  and 
cowering  together  at  the  window,  and  tapping  at  it  urgently, 
as  if  beseeching  to  be  sheltered  from  the  dismal  night. 

As  a  mark  of  her  respect  for  the  lightning,  Mrs.  Lupin  had 
removed  her  candle  to  the  chimney-piece.  Her  basket  of 
needlework  stood  unheeded  at  her  elbow  ;  her  supper  spread 
on  a  round  table  not  far  off,  was  untasted  ;  and  the  knives  had 
been  removed  for  fear  of  attraction.  She  had  sat  for  a  long 
time  with  her  chin  upon  her  hand,  saying  to  herself  at  inter- 
vals,. "  Dear  me  !  Ah,  dear,  dear  me  !  " 

She  was  on  the  e\-e  of  saying  so,  once  more,  when  the 
latch  of  the  house-door  (closed  to  keep  the  rain  out),  rattled 
on  its  well-worn  catch,  and  a  traveller  came  in,  who,  shutting 
it  after  him,  and  walking  straight  up  to  the  half-door  of  the 
bar,  said,  rather  gruffly  : 

"  A  pint  of  the  best  old  beer  here." 

He  had  some  reason  to  be  gruff,  for  if  he  had  passed  the 
day  in  a  waterfall,  he  could  scarcely  have  been  wetter  than  he 
was.  He  was  wrapped  up  to  the  eyes  in  a  rough  blue  sailor's 
coat,  and  had  an  oil-skin  hat  on,  from  the  capacious  brim  of 
which,  the  rain  fell  trickling  down  upon  his  breast,  and  back, 
and  shoulders.  Judging  from  a  certain  liveliness  of  chin — he 
had  so  pulled  down  his  hat,  and  pulled  up  his  collar  to  de- 
fend himself  from  the  weather,  that  she  could  only  see  his 
chin,  and  even  across  that  he  drew  the  wet  sleeve  of  his 
shaggy  coat,  as  she  looked  at  hnn — Mrs.  Lupin  set  him  down 
for  a  good-natured  fellow,  too. 

"  A  bad  night !  "  observed  the  hostess  cheerfully. 

The  traveller  shook  himself  like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  and 
said  it  was,  rather. 

"  There's  a  fire  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  "  and 
very  good  company  there.  Hadn't  you  better  go  and  dry 
yourself } " 

"  No,  thankee,"  said  the  man,  glancing  towards  the  kitchen 
as  he  spoke  ;  he  seemed  to  know  the  way. 

"  It's  enough  to  give  you  your  death  of  cold,"  observed 
the  hostess. 

"  I  don't  take  my  death  easy,"  returned  the  traveller  ;  "  or 


MARTIN  CHCZZLEWIT.  .     653 

I  should  most  likely  have  took  it  afore  to-night.  Your  health, 
ma'am  !  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  thanked  him  ;  but  in  the  act  of  lifting  the 
tankard  to  his  mouth,  he  changed  his  mind,  and  put  it  down 
again.  Throwing  his  body  back,  and  looking  about  him  stiff- 
ly, as  a  man  does  who  is  wrapped  up,  and  has  his  hat  low 
down  over  his  eyes,  he  said, 

"  What  do  you  call  this  house  ?  Not  the  Dragon,  do 
you  ? " 

Mrs.  Lupin  complacently  made  answer,  "  Yes,  the  Dra- 
gon." 

"  Why,  then,  you've  got  a  sort  of  a  relation  of  mine  here, 
ma'am,"  said  the  traveller  ;  "  a  young  man  of  the  name  of 
Tapley.  What  !  Mark,  my  boy  !  "  apostrophizing  the  prem- 
ises, "  have  I  come  upon  you  at  last,  old  buck  !  " 

This  was  touching  Mrs.  Lupin  on  a  tender  point.  She 
turned  to  trim  the  candle  on  the  chimney-piece,  and  said,  with 
her  back  towards  the  traveller  : 

"  Nobody  should  be  made  more  welcome  at  the  Dragon, 
master,  than  any  one  who  brought  me  news  of  ALark.  But 
it's  many  and  many  a  long  day  and  month  since  he  left  here 
and  England.  And  whether  he's  alive  or  dead,  poor  fellow, 
Heaven  above  us  only  knows  !  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  her  voice  trembled  ;  her  hand 
must  have  done  so  too,  for  the  light  required  a  deal  of  trim- 
ming. 

"  Where  did  he  go,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  the  traveller,  in  a 
gentler  voice. 

"He  went,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  with  increased  distress,  "to 
America.  He  was  always  tender-hearted  and  kind,  and  per- 
haps at  this  moment  may  be  lying  in  prison  under  sentence  of 
death,  for  taking  pity  on  some  miserable  black,  and  helping 
the  poor  runaway  creetur  to  escape.  How  could  he  ever  go 
to  America  !  Why  didn't  he  go  to  some  of  those  countries 
where  the  savages  eat  each  other  fairly  antl  give  an  equal 
chance  to  every  one  !  " 

Quite  subdued  by  this  time,  Mrs.  Lupin  sobbed,  and  was 
retiring  to  a  chair  to  give  her  grief  free  vent,  when  the  trav- 
eller caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  uttered  a  grand  crv  of 
recognition. 

"  Yes,  I  will  !  "  cried  Mark,  "  another — one  more — twenty 
more  !  You  didn't  know  me  in  that  hat  and  coat .''  I  thought 
you  would  have  known  me  anywheres !     Ten  more  !  " 


654    •  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  So  I  should  have  known  you,  if  I  could  have  seen  you  ; 
but  I  couldn't,  and  you  spoke  so  gruff.  I  didn't  think  you 
could  speak  gruff  to  me,  Mark,  at  first  coming  back." 

"  Fifteen  more  ! "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  How  handsome  and 
how  young  you  look  !  Six  more  !  The  last  half-dozen  warn't 
a  fair  one,  and  must  be  clone  over  again.  Lord  bless  you, 
what  a  treat  it  is  to  see  you  !  One  more  !  Well,  I  never  was 
so  jolly.  Just  a  few  more,  on  account  of  there  not  being  any 
credit  in  it !  " 

When  Mr.  Tapley  stopped  in  these  calculations  in  simple 
addition,  he  did  it,  not  because  he  was  at  all  tired  of  the  exer- 
cise, but  because  he  was  out  of  breath.  The  pause  reminded 
him  of  other  duties. 

"  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit's  outside,"  he  said.  "  I  left  him 
under  the  cart-shed,  while  I  came  on  to  see  if  there  was  any- 
body here.  We  want  to  keep  quiet  to-night,  till  we  know  the 
news  from  you,  and  what  it's  best  for  us  to  do." 

"  There's  not  a  soul  in  the  house,  except  the  kitchen  com- 
pany," returned  the  hostess.  "  If  they  were  to  know  you  had 
come  back,  Mark,  they'd  have  a  bonfire  in  the  street,  late  as 
it  is." 

"  But  they  mustn't  know  it  to-night,  my  precious  soul,"  said 
Mark  ;  "  so  have  the  house  shut,  and  the  kitchen  fire  made  up  ; 
and  when  it's  all  ready,  put  a  light  in  the  winder,  and  we'll  come 
in.  One  more  !  I  long  to  hear  about  old  friends.  You'll  tell 
me  all  about  'em,  won't  you  :  Mr.  Pinch,  and  the  butcher's  dog 
down  the  street,  and  the  terrier  over  the  way,  and  the  wheel- 
wright's, and  eveiy  one  of  'em.  When  I  first  caught  sight  of 
the  church  to-night,  I  thought  the  steeple  would  have  choked 
me,  I  did.  One  more  !  Won't  you  .-'  Not  a  very  little  one 
to  finish  off  with  t  " 

"  You  have   had  plenty,  I   am    sure,"  said    the   hostess. 
"  Go  along  with  your  foreign  manners  !  '' 

"  That  ain't  foreign,  bless  you  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  Native  as 
oysters,  that  is  !  One  more,  because  it's  native  !  As  a  mark 
of  respect  for  the  land  we  live  in  !  This  don't  count  as  be- 
tween you  and  me,  you  understand,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  I 
ain't  a  kissing  you  now,  you'll  observe.  I  have  been  among 
the  patriots  :  I'm  a  kissin'  my  country." 

It  would  have  been  very  unreasonable  to  complain  of  the 
exhibition  of  his  patriotism  with  which  he  followed  up  this  ex- 
planation, that  it  was  all  lukewarm  or  indifferent.  When  he 
had  given  full  expression  to  his  nationality,  he  hurried  off  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


655 


Martin  ;  while  Mrs.  Lupin,  in  a  state  of  great  agitation  and 
excitement,  prepared  for  their  reception. 

The  company  soon  came  tumbhng  out,  insisting  to  each 
other  that  the  Dragon  clock  was  half  an  hour  too  fast,  and 
that  the  thunder  must  have  affected  it.  Impatient,  wet,  and 
weary  though  they  were,  Martin  and  Mark  were  overjoyed  to 
see  these  old  faces,  and  watched  them  with  delighted  interest 
as  they  departed  from  the  house,  and  passed  close  by  them. 

"  There's  the  old  tailor,  Mark  !  "  whispered  Martin. 

"  There  he  goes,  sir !  A  little  handier  than  he  was,  I 
think,  sir,  ain't  he  ?  His  figure's  so  far  altered,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  that  you  might  wheel  a  rather  larger  barrow  between 
his  legs  as  he  walks,  than  you  could  have  done  conveniently, 
when  we  know'd  him.     There's  Sam  a  coming  out,  sir." 

"  Ah,  to  be.  sure  !  "  cried  Martin  :  "  Sam,  the  hostler.  I 
wonder  whether  that  horse  of  Pecksniff's  is  alive  still  1 " 

"Not  a  doubt  on  it,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I'hat's  a  de- 
scription of  animal,  sir,  as  will  go  on  in  a  bony  way  peculiar 
to  himself  for  a  long  time,  and  get  into  the  newspapers  at  last 
under  the  title  of  '  Sing'lar  Tenacity  of  Life  in  a  Quadruped.' 
As  if  he  had  ever  been  alive  in  all  his  life,  worth  mentioning  I 
There's  the  clerk,  sir, — wery  drunk,  as  usual." 

"  I  see  him  !  "  said  Martin,  laughing.  "  But,  my  life,  how 
wet  you  are,  Mark  !  " 

"/am  !     What  do  vou  consider  vourself,  sir?  " 

"  Oh,  not  half  as  bad,"  said  his  fellow-traveller,  with  an 
air  of  great  vexation.  "  1  told  you  not  to  keep  on  the  windy 
side,  Mark,  but  let  us  change  and  change  about.  The  rain 
has  been  beating  on  you  ever  since  it  began." 

"  You  don't  know  how  it  pleases  me,  sir,"  said  Mark,  after 
a  short  silence,  "  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  say  so,  to  hear  you 
a  going  on  in  that  there  uncommon  considerate  way  of  yours  \ 
which  I  don't  mean  to  attend  to,  never,  but  which,  ever  since 
that  time  when  I  was  floored  in  Eden,  you  have  showed." 

"  Ah,  Mark  !  "  sighed  Martin,  "  the  less  we  say  of  that  the 
better.     Do  I  see  the  light  yonder?  " 

"  That's  the  light !  "  cried  Mark.  "  Lord  bless  her,  what 
briskness  she  possesses  !  Now  for  it,  sir.  Neat  wines,  good 
beds,  and  first-rate  entertainment  for  man  or  beast." 

The  kitchen  fire  burnt  clear  and  red,  the  table  was  spread 
out,  the  kettle  boiled  ;  the  slippers  were  there,  the  boot-jack 
too,  sheets  of  ham  were  there,  cooking  on  the  gridiron  ;  half- 
a-dozen  of  eggs  were  there,  poaching  in  the  frying-pan  ;    a 


6s6 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


plethoric  cherry-brandy  bottle  was  there,  winking  at  a  foaming 
jug  of  beer  upon  the  table  ;  rare  provisions  were  there,  dang- 
ling from  the  rafters  as  if  you  had  only  to  open  your  mouth, 
and  something  exquisitely  ripe  and  good  would  be  glad  of  the 
excuse  for  tumbling  into  it.  Mrs.  Lupin,  who  for  their  sakes 
had  dislodged  the  very  cook,  high  priestess  of  the  temple, 
with  her  own  genial  hands  was  dressing  their  repast. 

It  was  impossible  to  help  it — a  ghost  must  have  hugged 
her.  The  Atlantic  Ocean  and  the  Red  Sea  being,  in  that  re- 
spect, all  one,  Martin  hugged  her  instantly.  Mr.  Tapley  (as 
if  the  idea  were  quite  novel,  and  had  never  occurred  to  him 
before),  followed,  with  much  gravity,  on  the  same  side. 

"  Little  did  I  ever  think,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  adjusting  her 
cap  and  laughing  heartily  ;  yes,  and  blushing  too  ;  "  often  as 
I  have  said  that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  young  gentlemen  were  the 
life  and  soul  of  the  Dragon,  and  that  without  them  it  would 
be  too  dull  to  live  in — little  did  I  ever  think,  I  am  sure,  that 
any  one  of  them  would  ever  make  so  free  as  you,  Mr.  Mar- 
tin !  And  still  less  that  I  shouldn't  be  angry  with  him,  but 
should  be  glad  with  all  my  heart,  to  be  the  first  to  welcome 
him  home  from  America,  with  Mark  Tapley,  for  his — " 

"  For  his  friend,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  interposed  Martin. 

"  For  his  friend,"  said  the  hostess,  evidently  gratified  by 
this  distinction,  but  at  the  same  time  admonishing  Mr.  Tap- 
ley  with  a  fork  to  remain  at  a  respectful  distance.  "Little 
did  I  ever  think  that  !  but  still  less,  that  I  should  ever  have 
the  changes  to  relate  that  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  of,  when 
you  have  done  your  supper  !  " 

"  Good  Heaven  !  "  cried  Martin,  changing  color,  "  What 
changes  ?  " 

"  She,^''  said  the  hostess,  "  is  quite  well,  and  now  at  Mr. 
Pecksniff's.  Don't  be  at  all  alarmed  about  her.  She  is  every 
thing  you  could  wish.  It's  of  no  use  mincing  matters,  or 
making  secrets,  is  it .'     I  know  all  about  it,  you  see  1  " 

"  My  good  creature,"  returned  Martin,  "you  are  exactly 
the  person  who  ought  to  know  all  about  it.  I  am  delighted 
to  think  you  do  know  all  about  it.  But  what  changes  do  you 
hint  at  ?     Has  any  death  occurred  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  the  hostess.  "  Not  so  bad  as  that.  But 
I  declare  now  that  I  will  not  be  drawn  into  saying  another 
word  till  you  have  had  your  supper.  If  you  ask  me  fifty 
questions  in  the  meantime,  I  won't  answer  one." 

She  was  so  positive,  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


657 


get  the  supper  over  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and  as  they  had 
been  walking  a  great  many  miles,  and  had  fasted  since  the 
middle  of  the  day,  they  did  no  great  violence  to  their  own  in- 
clinations in  falling  on  it  tooth  and  nail.  It  took  rather  longer 
to  get  through  than  might  have  been  expected  ;  for,  half-a- 
dozen  times,  when  they  thought  they  had  finished,  Mrs.  Lu- 
pin exposed  the  fallacy  of  that  impression  triumphantly.  But 
at  last,  in  the  course  of  time  and  nature,  they  gave  in.  Then, 
sitting  with  their  slippered  feet  stretched  out  upon  the  kitchen 
hearth  (which  was  wonderfully  comforting,  for  the  night  had 
grown  by  this  time  raw  and  chilly),  and  looking  with  involun- 
tary admiration  at  their  dimpled,  buxom,  blooming  hostess, 
as  the  firelight  sparkled  in  her  eyes  and  glimmered  in  her 
raven  hair,  they  composed  themselves  to  listen  to  her  news. 

Many  were  the  exclamations  of  surprise  which  interrupted 
her,  when  she  told  them  of  the  separation  between  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff and  his  daughters,  and  between  the  same  good  gentle- 
man and  Mr.  Pinch.  But  these  were  nothing  to  the  indignant 
demonstrations  of  Martin,  when  she  related,  as  the  common 
talk  of  the  neighborhood,  what  entire  possession  he  had  ob- 
tained over  the  mind  and  person  of  old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  and 
what  high  honor  he  designed  for  Mary.  On  receipt  of  this 
intelligence,  Martin's  slippers  flew  off  in  a  twinkling,  and  he 
began  pulling  on  his  wet  boots  with  that  indefinite  intention 
of  going  somewhere  instantly,  and  doing  something  to  some- 
body, which  is  the  first  safety-valve  of  a  hot  temper. 

"  He  !  "  said  Martin,  "  smooth-tongued  villain  that  he  is  ! 
He  !  Give  me  that  other  boot,  Mark !  " 

"  Where  was  you  a  thinking  of  going  to,  sir  ? "  inquired 
Mr.  Tapley,  drying  the  sole  at  the  fire,  and  looking  coolly  at 
it  as  he  spoke,  as  if  it  were  a  slice  of  toast. 

"  Where  !  "  repeated  Martin.  "  You  don't  suppose  I  am 
going  to  remain  here,  do  you  ?  " 

The  imperturbable  Mark  confessed  that  he  did. 

"  You  do  !  "  retorted  Martin  angrily.  "  I  am  nuich  obliged 
to  you.     What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  " 

"  I  take  you  for  what  you  are,  sir,"  said  Mark  ;  "  and,  con- 
sequently, am  quite  sure  that  whatever  you  do,  will  be  right 
and  sensible.     The  boot,  sir." 

Martin  darted  an  impatient  look  at  him,  without  taking  it, 
and  walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  kitchen  several  times, 
with  one  boot  and  a  stocking  on.  But,  mindful  of  his  Eden 
resolution,  he  had  already  gained  many  victories  over  himself 

42 


658 


MAR77N  CHUZZLEWIT. 


when  Mark  was  in  the  case,  and  he  resolved  to  conquer  now. 
So  he  came  back  to  the  boot-jack,  laid  his  hand  on  Mark's 
shoulder  to  steady  himself,  pulled  the  boot  off,  picked  up  his 
slippers,  put  them  on,  and  sat  down  again.  He  could  not 
help  thrusting  his  hands  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  pockets, 
and  muttering  at  intervals,  "  Pecksniff  too  !  That  fellow  ! 
Upon  my  soul  !  In-deed  !  What  next  ?  "  and  so  forth  :  nor 
could  he  help  occasionally  shaking  his  fist  at  the  chimney, 
with  a  very  threatening  countenance  ;  but  this  did  not  last 
long  ;  and  he  heard  Mrs.  Lupin  out,  if  not  with  composure,  at 
all  events  in  silence. 

"  As  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  himself,"  observed  the  hostess  in 
conclusion,  spreading  out  the  skirts  of  her  gown  with  both 
hands,  and  nodding  her  head  a  great  many  times  as  she  did 
so,  "  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  Somebody  must  have  poisoned 
his  mind,  or  influenced  him  in  some  extraordinary  way.  I 
cannot  believe  that  such  a  noble-spoken  gentleman  would  go 
and  do  wrong  of  his  own  accord  ! " 

A  noble-spoken  gentleman  !  How  many  people  are  there 
in  the  world,  who,  for  no  better  reason,  uphold  their  Pecks- 
niffs to  the  last,  and  abandon  virtuous  men,  when  Pecksniffs 
breathe  upon  them  ! 

"  As  to  Mr.  Pinch,"  pursued  the  landlady,  "  if  ever  there 
was  a  dear,  good,  pleasant,  worthy,  soul  alive.  Pinch,  and  no 
other,  is  his  name.  But  how  do  we  know  that  old  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  himself  was  not  the  cause  of  difference  arising  between 
him  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  ?  No  one  but  themselves  can  tell  ;  for 
Mr.  Pinch  has  a  proud  spirit,  though  he  has  such  a  quiet  way ; 
and  when  he  left  us,  and  was  so  sorry  to  go,  he  scorned  to 
make  his  story  good,  even  to  me." 

"  Poor  old  Tom  !  "  said  Martin,  in  a  tone  that  sounded  like 
remorse. 

"  It's  a  comfort  to  know,"  resumed  the  landlady,  "that  he 
has  his  sister  living  with  him,  and  is  doing  well.  Only  yester- 
day he  sent  me  back,  by  post,  a  little — "  here  the  color  came 
into  her  cheeks — "  a  little  trifle  I  was  bold  enough  to  lend 
him  when  he  went  away,  saying,  with  many  thanks,  that  he 
had  good  employment,  and  didn't  want  it.  It  was  the  same 
note  ;  he  hadn't  broken  it.  I  never  thought  I  could  have 
beeii  so  little  pleased  to  see  a  bank-note  come  back  to  me,  as 
I  was  to  see  that." 

"  Kindly  said,  and  heartily  !  "  said  Martin.  "  Is  it  not, 
Mark  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


6S9 


"  She  can't  say  anything  as  does  not  possess  them  quali- 
ties," returned  Mr.  Tapley  ;  "  which  as  much  belong  to  the 
■  Dragon  as  its  license.  And  now  that  we  have  got  quite  cool 
and  fresh  to  the  subject  again,  sir,  what  will  you  do  ?  If 
you're  not  proud,  and  can  make  up  your  mind  to  go  through 
with  what  you  spoke  of,  coming  along,  that's  the  course  for 
you  to  take.  If  you  started  wrong  with  your  grandfather 
(which,  you'll  excuse  my  taking  the  liberty  of  saying,  appears 
to  have  been  the  case),  up  with  you,  sir,  and  tell  him  so,  and 
make  an  appeal  to  his  affections.  Don't  stand  out.  He's  a 
great  deal  older  than  you,  and  if  he  was  hasty,  you  was  hasty 
too.     Give  way,  sir,  give  way." 

The  eloquence  of  Mr.  Tapley  was  not  without  its  effect  on 
Martin,  but  he  still  hesitated,  and  expressed  his  reason  thus  : 

"  That's  all  very  true,  and  perfectly  correct,  Mark  ;  and  if 
it  were  a  mere  question  of  humbling  myself  before  ///w,  I 
would  not  consider  it  twice.  But  don't  you  see,  that  being 
wholly  under  this  hypocrite's  government,  and  having  (if 
what  we  hear  be  true)  no  mind  or  will  of  his  own,  I  throw  my- 
self, in  fact,  not  at  his  feet,  but  at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Pecksniff? 
And  when  I  am  rejected  and  spurned  away,"  said  Martin, 
turning  crimson  at  the  thought,  "  it  is  not  by  him — my  own 
blood  stirred  against  me  —  but  by  Pecksniff  —  Pecksniff, 
Mark  !  " 

"  Well,  but  we  know  beforehand,"  returned  the  politic  Mr. 
Tapley,  "  that  Pecksniff  is  a  wagabond,  a  scoundrel,  and  a 
willain." 

"  A  most  pernicious  villain  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  A  most  pernicious  willain.  We  know  that  beforehand, 
sir  ;  and,  consequently,  it's  no  shame  to  be  defeated  by  Peck- 
sniff. Blow  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  the  fervor  of 
his  eloquence.  "  Who's  he  !  It's  not  in  the  nature  of  Peck- 
sniff to  shame  ns^  unless  he  agreed  with  us,  or  done  us  a  ser- 
vice ;  and,  in  case  he  offered  any  outdacity  of  that  descrip- 
tion, we  could  express  our  sentiments  in  the  English  language, 
I  hope.  Pecksniff !  "  repeated  Mr.  Tapley,  with  ineffable  dis- 
dain. "  What's  Pecksniff,  who's  Pecksniff,  where's  Pecksniff,* 
that  he's  to  be  so  much  considered  ?  We're  not  a  calculating 
for  ourselves  ;  "  he -laid  uncommon  emphasis  on  the  last  sylla- 
ble of  that  word,  and  looked  full  in  Martin's  face  ;  "  we're 
making  a  effort  for  a  young  lady  likewise  as  has  undergone 
her  share  ;  and  whatever  little  hope  we  have,  this  here  Peck- 
sniff is  not  to  stand  in  its  way,  I   expect.     I  never  heard  of 


66 o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

any  act  of  Parliament  as  was  made  by  Pecksniff.  Pecksniff ! 
Why,  I  wouldn't  see  the  man  myself  ;  I  wouldn't  hear  him  ;  I 
wouldn't  choose  to  know  he  was  in  company.  I'd  scrape  my 
shoes  on  the  scraper  of  the  door,  and  call  that  Pecksniff,  if 
you  liked  ;  but  I  wouldn't  condescend  no  further." 

The  amazement  of  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  indeed  of  Mr.  Tapley 
himself  for  that  matter,  at  this  impassioned  flow  of  language, 
was  immense.  But  Martin,  after  looking  thoughtfully  at  the 
fire  for  a  short  time,  said  : 

"  You  are  right,  Mark.  Right  or  wrong,  it  shall  be  done. 
I'll  do  it." 

"One  word  more,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  Only  think  of 
him  so  far,  as  not  to  give  him  a  handle  against  you.  Don't 
you  do  anything  secret,  that  he  can  report  before  you  get 
there.  Don't  you  even  see  Miss  Mar}'  in  the  morning,  but  let 
this  here  dear  friend  of  ours  ;  "  Mr.  Tapley  bestowed  a  smile 
upon  the  hostess  ;  "  prepare  her  for  what's  a  going  to  happen, 
and  carry  any  little  message  as  may  be  agreeable.  She  knows 
how.  Don't  you  ?  "  Mrs.  Lupin  laughed  and  tossed  her 
head.  "  Then  you  go  in,  bold  and  free  as  a  gentleman  should. 
'  I  haven't  done  nothing  underhanded,'  says  you.  '  I  haven't 
been  a  skulking  about  the  premises,  here  I  am,  for-give  me,  I 
ask  your  pardon,  God  Bless  You  !  ' " 

Martin  smiled,  but  felt  that  it  was  good  advice  not- 
withstanding, and  resolved  to  act  upon  it.  When  they  ascer- 
tained from  Mrs.  Lupin  that  Pecksniff  had  already  returned 
from  the  great  ceremonial  at  which  they  had  beheld  him  in  his 
glory,  and  when  they  had  fully  arranged  the  order  of  their 
proceedings,  they  went  to  bed,  intent  upon  the  morrow. 

In  pursuance  of  their  project  as  agreed  upon  at  this  discus- 
sion, Mr.  Tapley  issued  forth  next  morning,  after  breakfast, 
charged  with  a  letter  from  Martin  to  his  grandfather,  request- 
ing leave  to  wait  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes.  And  post- 
ponijig  as  he  went  along  the  congratulations  of  his  numerous 
friends  until  a  more  convenient  season,  he  soon  arrived  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  house.  At  that  gentleman's  door,  with  a  face 
so  immovable  that  it  would  have  been  next  to  an  impossibility 
far  the  most  acute  physiognomist  to  determine  what  he  was 
thinking  about,  or  whether  he  was  thinking  at  all,  he  straight- 
way knocked. 

'a  person  of  Mr.  Tapley's  observation  could  not  long  re- 
main insensible  to  the  fact,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  making  the 
end  of  his   nose  very  blunt  against  the  glass  of  the  parlor 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  66 1 

window,  in  an  angular  attempt  to  discover  wlio  had  knocked 
at  the  door.  Nor  was  Mr.  Tapley  slow  to  batifle  this  mo\e- 
ment  on  the  part  of  the  enemy,  by  perching  himself  on  the 
top  step,  and  presenting  the  crown  of  his  hat  in  that  direc- 
tion. But  possibly  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  already  seen  him,  for 
Mark  soon  heard  his  shoes  creaking,  as  he  advanced  to  open 
the  door  with  his  own  hands. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  as  cheerful  as  ever,  and  sang  a  little 
song  in  the  passage. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  sir.''  "  said  Mark. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Tapley,  I  believe  ?  The 
Prodigal  returned  !     We  don't  want  any  beer,  my  friend." 

"  Thankee,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  couldn't  accommodate 
you,  if  you  did.     A  letter,  sir.     Wait  for  an  answer." 

"  For  me  ? "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  And  an  answer,  eh  ?  " 

"Not  for  you  I  think,  sir,"  said  Mark,  pointing  out  the 
direction.     "  Chuzzlewit,  I  believe  the  name  is,  sir." 

"Oh!"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Thank  you.  Yes. 
Who's  it  from,  my  good  young  man  ?  " 

"  The  gentleman  it  comes  from,  wrote  his  name  inside, 
sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley  with  extreme  politeness.  "  I  see 
him  a  signing  of  it  at  the  end,  while  I  was  a  waitin'." 

"  And  he  said  he  wanted  an  answer  did  he  !  "  asked  Mr. 
Pecksniff  in  his  most  persuasive  manner. 

Mark  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  He  shall  have  an  answer.  Certainlv,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff,  tearing  the  letter  into  small  pieces,  as  mildly  as  if  that 
were  the  most  flattering  attention  a  correspondent  could  re- 
ceive. "  Have  the  2,-oodness  to  pive  hini  that,  with  mv  com- 
pliments,  if  you  please.  Good-morning!"  Whereupon,  he 
handed  Mark  the  scraps  ;  and  shut  the  door. 

Mark  thought  it  prudent  to  subdue  his  personal  emotions, 
and  return  to  Martin,  at  the  Dragon.  They  were  not  unpre- 
pared for  such  a  reception,  and  suffered  an  hour  or  so  to 
elapse  before  making  another  attempt.  When  this  interval 
had  gone  by,  they  returned  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  in  com- 
pany. Martin  knocked  this  time,  while  Mr.  Tapley  prepared 
himself  to  keep  the  door  open  with  his  foot  and  shoulder, 
when  anybody  came,  and  by  that  means  secure  an  enforced 
parley.  But  this  precaution  was  needless,  for  the  servant  girl 
appeared  almost  immediately.  Brushing  quickly  past  her  as 
he  had  resolved  in  such  a  case  to  do,  Martin  (closely  followed 
by  his  faithful  ally)  opened  the   door  of  that  parlor  in   which 


662  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

he  knew  a  visitor  was  most  likely  to  be  found,  passed  at  once 
into  the  room  ;  and  stood,  without  a  word  of  notice  or  an- 
nouncement, in  the  presence  of  his  grandfather. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  also  was  in  the  room,  and  Maiy.  In  the 
swift  instant  of  their  mutr.al  recognition,  Martin  saw  the  old 
man  droop  his  gray  head,  and  hide  his  face  in  his  hands. 

It  smote  him  to  the  heart.  In  his  most  selfish  and  most 
careless  day,  this  lingering  remnant  of  the  old  man's  ancient 
love,  this  buttress  of  a  ruined  tower  he  had  built  up  in  the 
time  gone  by,  with  so  much  pride  and  hope,  would  have 
caused  a  pang  in  Martin's  heart.  But  now,  changed  for  the 
better  in  his  worst  respect ;  looking  through  an  altered  me- 
dium on  his  former  friend,  the  guardian  of  his  childhood,  so 
broken  and  bowed  down  ;  resentment,  sullenness,  self-confi- 
dence, and  pride,  were  all  swept  away,  before  the  starting 
tears  upon  the  withered  cheeks.  He  could  not  bear  to  see 
them.  He  could  not  bear  to  think  they  fell  at  sight  of  him. 
He  could  not  bear  to  view  reflected  in  them,  the  reproachful 
and  irrevocable  Past. 

He  hurriedly  advanced,  to  seize  the  old  man's  hand  in  his, 
when  Mr.  Pecksniff  interposed  himself  between  them. 

"  No,  young  man  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  striking  himself 
upon  the  breast,  and  stretching  out  his  other  arm  towards  his 
guest  as  if  it  were  a  wing  to  shelter  him.  "  No,  sir.  None  of 
that.  Strike  here,  sir,  here  !  Launch  your  arrows  at  me,  sir, 
if  you'll  have  the  goodness  ;  not  at  him  !  " 

"Grandfather!"  cried  Martin.  "Hear  me!  I  implore 
you,  let  me  speak  !  " 

"  Would  you,  sir  !  Would  you  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
dodging  about,  so  as  to  keep  himself  always  between  them. 
"  Is  it  not  enough,  sir,  that  you  come  into  my  house  like  a 
thief  in  the  night,  or  I  should  rather  say,  for  we  can  never  be 
too  particular  on  the  subject  of  Truth,  like  a  thief  in  the  day- 
time ;  bringing  your  dissolute  companions  with  you,  to  plant 
themselves  with  their  backs  against  theinsidesof  parlor  doors, 
and  prevent  the  entrance  or  issuing  forth  of  any  of  my  house- 
hold ;  "  Mark  had  taken  up  this  position,  and  held  it  quite 
unmoved  ;  "  but  would  you  also  strike  at  venerable  Virtue  ? 
Would  you  ?  Know  that  it  is  not  defenceless.  I  will  be  its 
shield,  young  man.     Assail  me.     Come  on,  sir.     Fire  away  !  " 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  feeble  voice.  "Calm 
yourself.     Be  quiet." 

"  I  can't  be  calm,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "and  I  won't  be 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  663 

quiet.     My  benefactor  and  my  friend  !     Shall  even  my  house 
be  no  refuge  for  your  hoary  pillow  !  " 

"  Stand  aside  !  "  said  the  old  man,  stretching  out  his  hand  ; 
"  and  let  me  see  what  it  is,  I  used  to  love  so  dearly." 

"  It  is  right  that  you  should  see  it,  my  friend,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  "  It  is  well  that  you  should  see  it,  my  noble  sir. 
It  is  desirable  that  you  should  contemplate  it  in  its  true  pro- 
portions.    Behold  it !     There  it  is,  sir.     There  it  is  !  " 

Martin  could  hardly  be  a  mortal  man,  and  not  express  in  his 
face  something  of  the  anger  and  disdain,  with  which  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff inspired  him.  But  beyond  this  he  evinced  no  knowledge 
whatever  of  that  gentleman's  presence  or  existence.  True,  he 
had  once,  and  that  at  first,  glanced  at  him  involuntarily,  and 
with  supreme  contempt ;  but  for  any  other  heed  he  took  of 
him,  there  might  have  been  nothing  in  his  place  save  empty  air. 

As  Mr.  Pecksniff  withdrew  from  between  them,  agreeably 
to  the  wish  just  now  expressed  (which  he  did  during  the  de- 
livery of  the  observations  last  recorded),  old  Martin,  who  had 
taken  Mary  Graham's  hand  in  his,  and  whispered  kindly  to 
her,  as  telling  her  she  had  no  cause  to  be  alarmed,  gently 
pushed  her  from  him,  behind  his  chair  \  and  looked  steadily 
at  his  grandson. 

"  And  that,"  he  said,  "  is  he.  Ah  !  that  is  he  !  Say  what 
you  wish  to  say.     But  come  no  nearer." 

"  His  sense  of  justice  is  so  fine,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "that 
he  will  hear  even  him,  although  he  knows  beforehand  that 
nothing  can  come  of  it.  Ingenuous  mind  !  "  Mr.  Pecksniff 
did  not  address  himself  immediately  to  any  person  in  saying 
this,  but  assuming  the  position  of  the  Chorus  in  a  Greek 
Tragedy,  delivered  his  opinion  as  a  commentary  on  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

"  Grandfather !  "  said  Martin,  with  great  earnestness. 
"  From  a  painful  journey,  from  a  hard  life,  from  a  sick-bed, 
from  privation  and  distress,  from  gloom  and  disappointment, 
from  almost  hopelessness  and  despair,  I  have  come  back  to 
you." 

"  Rovers  of  this  sort,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  Chorus, 
"  very  commonly  come  back  when  they  find  they  don't  meet 
with  the  success  they  expected  in  their  marauding  ravages." 

"  But  for  this  faithful  man,"  said  Martin,  turning  towards 
Mark,  "  whom  I  first  knew  in  this  place,  and  who  went  away 
with  me  voluntarily,  as  a  servant,  but  has  been,  throughout, 
my  zealous  and  devoted  friend  ;  but  for  him,  I  nmst  have  died 


664  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

abroad.  Far  from  home,  far  from  any  help  or  consolation  ; 
far  from  the  probability  even  of  my  wretched  fate  being  ever 
known  to  any  one  who  cared  to  hear  it — oh  that  you  would 
let  me  say,  of  being  known  to  you." 

The  old  man  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Mr.  Pecksniff 
looked  at  him.  "Did  you  speak,  my  worthy  sir?"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  with  a  smile.  The  old  man  answered  in  the  nega- 
tive. "  I  know  what  you  thought,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with 
another  smile.  "  Let  him  go  on,  my  friend.  The  develop- 
ment of  self-interest  \\\  the  human  mind  is  always  a  curious 
study.     Let  him  go  on,  sir." 

"  Go  on  !  "  observed  the  old  man,  in  a  mechanical  obedi- 
ence, it  appeared,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  suggestion. 

'*  I  have  been  so  wretched  and  so  poor,"  said  Martin,  "that 
I  am  indebted  to  the  charitable  help  of  a  stranger,  in  a  land  of 
strangers,  for  the  means  of  returning  here.  All  this  tells 
against  me  in  your  mind,  I  know.  I  have  given  you  cause  to 
think  I  have  been  driven  here  wholly  by  want,  and  have  not  been 
led  on,  in  any  degree,  by  affection  or  regret.  When  I  parted 
from  you,  Grandfather,  I  deserved  that  suspicion,  but  I  do 
not  now.     I  do  not  now." 

The  Chorus  put  its  hand  in  its  waistcoat,  and  smiled. 
"  Let  him  go  on,  my  worthy  sir,"  it  said.  "  I  know  what  you 
are  thinking  of,  but  don't  express  it  prematurely." 

Old  Martin  raised  his  eyes  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  face,  and 
appearing  to  derive  renewed  instruction  from  his  looks  and 
words,  said,  once  again  : 

"Go  on  !" 

"  I  have  little  more  to  say,"  returned  Martin.  "  And  as 
I  say  it  now,  with  little  or  no  hope.  Grandfather  ;  whatever 
dawn  of  hope  I  had  on  entering  the  room  ;  believe  it  to  be 
true.     At  least,  believe  it  to  be  true." 

"  Beautiful  Truth  !  "  exclaimed  the  Chorus,  looking  up- 
ward. "  How  is  your  name  profaned  by  vicious  persons  ! 
You  don't  live  in  a  well,  my  holy  principle,  but  on  the  lips  of 
false  mankind.  It  is  hard  to  bear  with  mankind,  dear  sir," — ■ 
addressing  the  elder  Mr.  Chuzzlewit ;  "  but  let  us  do  so 
meekly.  Jt  is  our  duty  so  to  do.  Let  us  be  among  the  Few 
who  do  their  duty.  If,"  pursued  the  Chorus,  soaring  up  into 
a  lofty  flight,  "  as  the  poet  informs  us,  England  expects  every 
man  to  do  his  duty,  England  is  the  most  sanguine  countr}'  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  and  will  find  itself  continually  disap- 
pointed." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  665 

"  Upon  that  subject,"  said  Martin,  looking  calmly  at  the 
old  man  as  he  spoke,  but  glancing  once  at  Mary,  whose  face 
was  now  buried  in  her  hands,  upon  the  back  of  his  easy-chair; 
"upon  that  subject,  which  hrst  occasioned  a  division  between 
us,  my  mind  and  heart  are  incapable  of  change.  Whatever 
influence  they  have  undergone,  since  that  unhappy  time,  has 
not  been  one  to  weaken  but  to  strengthen  me.  I  cannot  pro- 
fess sorrow  for  that,  nor  irresolution  in  that,  nor  shame  in 
that.  Nor  would  you  wish  me,  I  know.  But  that  I  might 
have  trusted  to  your  love,  if  I  had  thrown  myself  manfully 
upon  it  ;  that  I  might  have  won  you  over,  with  ease,  if  I  had 
been  more  yielding,  and  more  considerate  ;  that  I  should 
have  best  remembered  myself  in  forgetting  myself,  and  recol- 
lecting you  ;  reflection,  solitude,  and  misery,  have  taught  me. 
I  came,  resolved  to  say  this,  and  to  ask  your  forgiveness ; 
not  so  much  in  hope  for  the  future,  as  in  regret  for  the  past  ; 
for  all  that  I  would  ask  of  you  is,  that  you  would  aid  me  to 
live.  Help  me  to  get  honest  work  to  do,  and  I  would  do  it. 
My  condition  places  me  at  the  disadvantage  of  seeming  to 
have  only  my  selfish  ends  to  serve,  but  try  if  that  be  so,  or 
not.  Try  if  I  be  self-willed,  obdurate,  and  haughty,  as  I 
was  ;  or  have  been  disciplined  in  a  rough  school.  Let  the 
voice  of  nature  and  association  plead  between  us.  Grandfather  ; 
and  do  not,  for  one  fault,  however  thankless,  quite  reject 
me  ! " 

As  he  ceased,  the  gray  head  of  the  old  man  dropped 
again ;  and  he  concealed  his  face  behind  his  outspread 
fingers. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  cried  Mr.  PecksnilT,  bending  over  him, 
"you  must  not  give  way  to  this.  It  is  very  natural,  and 
very  amiable,  but  you  must  not  allow  the  shameless  conduct 
of  one  whom  you  long  ago  cast  off,  to  move  you  so  far. 
Rouse  yourself.  Think,"  said  Pecksniff,  "think  of  Me,  my 
friend." 

"  I  will,"  returned  old  Martin,  looking  up  into  his  face. 
"You  recall  me  to  myself.     I  will." 

"  Why,  what,"  said  Mr.  Pecksnifif,  sitting  down  beside 
him  in  a  chair  which  he  drew  up  for  the  purpose,  and  tapping 
him  playfully  on  the  arm,  "what  is  the  matter  with  my  strong- 
minded  compatriot,  if  I  may  venture  to  take  the  liberty  of 
calling  him  by  that  endearing  expression  ?  Shall  I  have  to 
scold  my  coadjutor,  or  to  reason  with  an  intellect  like  his  ? 
I  think  not." 


666  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  No,  no.  There  is  no  occasion,"  said  the  old  man.  "  A 
momentary  feeling.     Nothing  more." 

"Indignation,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "re///  bring  the 
scalding  tear  into  the  honest  eye,  I  know  ; "  he  wiped  his  own 
elaborately.  "  But  we  have  higher  duties  to  perform  than  that. 
Rouse  yourself,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Shall  I  give  expression  to 
your  thoughts,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  old  Martin,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and 
looking  at  him,  half  in  vacancy  and  half  in  admiration,  as  if 
he  were  fascinated  by  the  man.  "  Speak  for  me,  Pecksniff. 
I'hank  you.     You  are  true  to  me.     Thank  you  !  " 

"Do  not  unman  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his 
hand  vigorously,  "  or  I  shall  be  unequal  to  the  task.  It  is 
not  agreeable  to  my  feelings,  my  good  sir,  to  address  the 
person  who  is  now  before  us,  for  when  I  ejected  him  from 
this  house,  after  hearing  of  his  unnatural  conduct  from  your 
lips,  I  renounced  communication  with  him  forever.  But  you 
desire  it  ;  and  that  is  sufficient.  Young  man  !  The  door  is 
immediately  behind  the  companion  of  your  infamy.  Blush  if 
you  can  ;  begone  without  a  blush,  if  you  can't." 

Martin  looked  as  steadily  at  his  grandfather  as  if  there 
had  been  a  dead  silence  all  this  time.  The  old  man  looked 
no  less  steadily  at  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  When  I  ordered  you  to  leave  this  house  upon  the  last 
occasion  of  your  being  dismissed  from  it  with  disgrace,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff;  "when,  stung  and  stimulated  beyond  endur- 
ance by  your  shameless  conduct  to  this  extraordinary  noble- 
minded  individual,  I  exclaimed  '  Go  forth  !  '  I  told  you  that 
I  wept  for  your  depravity.  Do  not  suppose  that  the  tear 
which  stands  in  my  eye  at  this  moment,  is  shed  for  you.  It  is 
shed  for  him,  sir.     It  is  shed  for  him." 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff,  accidentally  dropping  the  tear  in 
question  on  a  bald  part  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  head,  wiped 
the  place  with  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  begged  pardon. 

"  It  is  shed  for  him,  sir,  whom  you  seek  to  make  the  vic- 
tim of  your  arts,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  "  whom  you  seek  to 
plunder,  to  deceive,  and  to  mislead.  It  is  shed  in  sympathy 
with  him,  and  admiration  of  him  ;  not  in  pity  for  him,  for 
happily  he  knows  what  you  are.  You  shall  not  wrong  him 
further,  sir,  in  any  way,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  quite  transported 
with  enthusiasm,  "  while  I  have  life.  You  may  bestride  my 
senseless  corse,  sir.  That  is  very  likely.  I  can  imagine  a 
mind  like  yours  deriving  great  satisfaction  from  %ny  measure 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


667 


of  that  kind.  But  while  I  continue  to  be  called  upon  to  exist, 
sir,  you  must  strike  at  him  through  me.  Aye  !  "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  at  Martin  with  indignant  jocularity  ; 
"  and  in  such  a  cause  you  will  find  me,  my  young  sir,  an  L'gly 
Customer  !  " 

Still  Martin  looked  steadily  and  mildly  at  his  grandfather. 
"  Will  you  give  me  no  answer,"  he  said,  at  length,  ''not  a 
word  ?  " 

"  You  hear  what  has  been  said,"  replied  the  old  man, 
without  averting  his  eyes  from  the  face  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who 
nodded  encouragingly. 

"  1  have  not  heard  your  voice.  I  have  not  heard  your 
spirit,"  returned  Martin. 

"Tell  him  again,"  said  the  old  man,  still  gazing  up  in  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  face. 

"  I  only  hear,"  replied  Martin,  strong  in  his  purpose  from 
the  first,  and  stronger  in  it  as  he  felt  how  Pecksniff  winced 
and  shrunk  beneath  his  contempt  ;  "  I  only  hear  what  you 
say  to  me,  grandfather." 

Perhaps  it  was  well  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  his  venerable 
friend  found  in  his  (Mr.  Pecksniff's)  features  an  exclusive 
and  engrossing  subject  of  contemplation,  for  if  his  eyes  had 
gone  astray,  and  he  had  compared  young  Martin's  bearing 
with  that  of  his  zealous  defender,  the  latter  disinterested  gen- 
tleman would  scarcely  have  shown  to  greater  advantage  than 
on  the  memorable  afternoon  when  he  took  Tom  Pinch's  last 
receipt  in  full  of  all  demands.  One  really  might  ha\e  thought 
there  was  some  quality  in  Mr.  Pecksniff — an  emanation  from 
the  brightness  and  purity  within  him  perhaps — which  set  off 
and  adorned  his  foes,  they  looked  so  gallant  and  so  manly 
beside  him. 

"Not  a  word  ? "  said  Martin,  for  the  second  time. 

"  I  remember  that  1  ha\e  a  word  to  say,  Pecksniff,"  ob- 
served the  old  man.  "  Put  a  word.  You  spoke  of  being 
indebted  to  the  charitable  help  of  some  stranger  for  the  means 
of  returning  to  England.  Who  is  he .''  And  what  help  in 
money  did  he  render  you  ?  " 

Although  he  asked  this  question  of  Martin,  he  did  not 
look  towards  him,  but  kept  his  eyes  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  as 
before.  It  appeared  to  have  become  a  habit  with  him.  both 
in  a  literal  and  figurative  sense,  to  look  to  Mr.  Pecksniff 
alone. 

Martin  fook  out  his  pencil,  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket- 


668  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

book,  and  hastily  wrote  clown  the  particulars  of  his  debt  to 
Mr.  Bevan.  The  old  man  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the 
paper,  and  took  it  ;  but  his  eyes  did  not  wander  from  Mr, 
Pecksniff's  face. 

"  It  would  be  a  poor  pride  and  a  false  humility,"  said 
Martin,  in  a  low  voice,  "  to  say,  I  do  not  wish  that  to  be  paid, 
or  that  I  have  any  present  hope  of  being  able  to  pay  it.  liut 
1  never  felt  my  poverty  so  deeply  as  I  feel  it  now." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man. 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  approaching  the  perusal  of  the  paper 
as  if  it  were  a  manuscript  confession  of  a  murder,  complied. 

''  I  think,  Pecksniff,"  said  old  Martin,  "  I  could  wish  that 
to  be  discharged.  I  should  not  like  the  lender,  who  was 
abroad,  who  had  no  opportunity  of  making  inquiry,  and  who 
did  (as  he  thought)  a  kind  action,  to  suffer." 

"  An  honorable  sentiment,  my  dear  sir.  Your  own  en- 
tirely. But  a  dangerous  precedent,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
"permit  me  to  suggest." 

"  It  shall  not  be  a  precedent,"  returned  the  old  man.  "  It 
is  the  only  recognition  of  him.  But  we  will  talk  of  it  again. 
You  shall  advise  me.     There  is  nothing  else  ?  " 

"Nothing  else,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  buoyantly,  "but  for 
you  to  recover  this  intrusion — this  cowardly  and  indefensible 
outrage  on  your  feelings — with  all  possible  dispatch,  and 
smile  again." 

"  You  have  nothing  more  to  say  ?  "  inquired  the  old  man, 
laying  his  hand  with  unusual  earnestness  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
sleeve. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  would  not  say  what  rose  to  his  lips.  For 
reproaches,  he  observed,  were  useless. 

"  You  have  nothing  at  all  to  urge  }  You  are  sure  of  that  ? 
If  you  have,  no  matter  what  it  is,  speak  freely.  I  will  oppose 
nothing  that  you  ask  of  me,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  tears  rose  in  such  abundance  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes 
at  this  proof  of  unlimited  confidence  on  the  part  of  his  friend, 
that  he  was  fain  to  clasp  the  bridge  of  his  nose  convulsively 
before  he  could  at  all  compose  himself.  When  he  had  the 
power  of  utterance  again,  he  said,  with  great  emotion,  that  he 
hoped  he  should  live  to  deserve  this ;  and  added,  that  he  had 
no  other  observation  whatever  to  make. 

For  a  few  moments  the  old  man  sat  looking  at  him,  with 
that  blank  and  motionless  expression  which  is  not  uncommon 
in  the  faces  of  those  whose  faculties  are  on  the  wane,  in  age- 


MA  R  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 


669 


But  he  rose  up  firmly  too,  and  walked  towards  the  door,  from 
which  Mark  withdrew  to  make  way  for  him. 

The  obsequious  Mr.  Pecksniff  proffered  his  arm.  The  old 
man  took  it.  Turning  at  the  door,  he  said  to  Martin,  waving 
off  with  his  hand, 

"  You  have  heard  him.     Go  away.     It  is  all  over.     Go  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  murmured  certain  cheering  expressions  of 
sympathy  and  encouragement  as  they  retired  ;  and  Martin, 
awakening  from  the  stupor  into  which  the  closing  portion  of 
this  scene  had  plunged  him,  to  the  opportunity  afforded  by 
their  departure,  caught  the  innocent  cause  of  all  in  his  em- 
brace, and  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Dear  girl  !  "  said  Martin.  "  He  has  not  changed  you. 
Why,  what  an  impotent  and  harmless  knave  the  fellow  is  !  " 

"  You  have  restrained  yourself  so  nobly !  You  have  borne 
so  much  !  " 

"  Restrained  mj'self !  "  cried  Martin,  cheerfully.  "  You 
were  by,  and  were  unchanged,  I  knew.  What  more  advan- 
tage did  I  want  ?  The  sight  of  me  was  such  a  bitterness  to 
the  dog,  that  I  had  my  triimiph  in  his  being  forced  to  endure 
it.  But  tell  me,  love — for  the  few  hasty  words  we  can  ex- 
change now  are  precious — what  is  this  which  has  been 
rumored  to  me  }  Is  it  true  that  you  are  persecuted  by  this 
knave's  addresses  ?  " 

"  I  was,  dear  Martin,  and  to  some  extent  am  now  ;  but  my 
chief  source  of  unhappiness  has  been  anxiety  for  you.  Why 
did  you  leave  us  in  such  terrible  suspense  ?  " 

"  Sickness,  distance  ;  the  dread  of  hinting  at  our  real  con- 
dition, the  impossibility  of  concealing  it  except  in  perfect 
silence  ;  the  knowledge  that  the  truth  would  have  pained  you 
infinitely  more  than  uncertainty  and  doubt,"  said  Martin, 
hurriedly ;  as  indeed  ever}^thing  else  was  done  and  said,  in 
these  few  hurried  moments,  "were  the  causes  of  my  writing 
only  once.  But  Pecksniff  ?  You  needn't  fear  to  tell  me  the 
whole  tale  ;  for  you  saw  me  with  him  face  to  face,  hearing 
him  speak,  and  not  taking  him  by  the  throat :  what  is  the  his- 
tory of  his  pursuit  of  you  "i     Is  it  known  to  my  grandfather.^ " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  he  assists  him  in  it  ?  " 

"No,"  she  answered  eagerly. 

"  Thank  Heaven  1  "  cried  Alartin,  "  that,  it  leaves  his  mind 
unclouded  in  that  one  respect !  " 

"  I  do   not  think,"  said   Mary,  "  it  was  known   to  him  at 


670  MARThY  CHUZZLEWIT. 

first.  When  this  man  had  sufficiently  prepared  his  mind,  he 
revealed  it  to  him  by  degrees.  I  thinl<.  so,  but  I  only  know 
it,  from  my  own  impression,  not  from  anything  they  told  me. 
Then  he  spoke  to  me  alone." 

"  My  grandfather  did  ?  "  said  Martin. 

'  Yes — spoke  to  me  alone,  and  told  me — " 

"  What  the  hound  had  said,"  cried  Martin.  "  Don't 
repeat  it." 

"  And  said  I  knew  well  what  qualities  he  possessed  ;  that 
he  was  moderately  rich,  in  good  repute,  and  high  in  his 
favor  and  confidence.  But  seeing  me  \&xy  much  distressed, 
he  said  that  he  would  not  control  or  force  my  inclinations,  but 
would  content  himself  with  telling  me  the  fact.  He  would 
not  pain  me  by  dwelling  on  it,  or  reverting  to  it ;  nor  has  he 
ever  done  so  since,  but  has  truly  kept  his  word  " 

"The  man  himself? — "  asked  Martin. 

*'  He  has  had  few  opportunities  of  pursuing  his  suit.  I 
have  never  walked  out  alone,  or  remained  alone  an  instant  in 
his  presence.  Dear  Martin,  I  must  tell  you,"  she  continued, 
"  that  the  kindness  of  your  grandfather  to  me,  remains  un- 
changed. I  am  his  companion  still.  An  indescribable  ten- 
derness and  compassion  seem  to  have  mingled  themselves 
with  his  old  regard  ;  and  if  I  were  his  only  child,  I  could  not 
have  a  gentler  father.  What  former  fancy  or  old  habit  sur- 
vives in  this,  when  his  .heart  has  turned  so  cold  to  you,  is  a 
mystery  I  cannot  penetrate  ;  but  it  has  been,  and  it  is,  a  hap- 
piness to  me,  that  I  remained  true  to  him  ;  that  if  he  should 
wake  from  his  delusion,  even  at  the  point  of  death,  I  am  here, 
love,  to  recall  you  to  his  thoughts." 

Martin  looked  with  admiration  on  her  glowing  face,  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

"  I  ha\  e  sometimes  heard,  and  read,"  she  said,  "  that  those 
whose  powers  had  been  enfeebled  long  ago,  and  whose  lives 
had  faded,  as  it  were,  into  a  dream,  have  been  known  to  rouse 
themselves  before  death,  and  inquire  for  familiar  faces  once 
very  dear  to  them ;  but  forgotten,  unrecognized,  hated  even, 
in  the  meantime.  Think,  if  with  his  old  impressions  of  this 
man,  he  should  suddenly  resume  his  former  self,  and  find  in 
him  his  only  friend  !  " 

"  I  would  not  urge  you  to  abandon  him,  dearest,"  said 
Martin,  "  though  I  could  count  the  years  we  are  to  wear  out 
asunder.  But  the  influence  this  fellow  exercises  over  him, 
has  steadily  increased,  I  fear." 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  6  7 1 

She  could  not  help  admitting  that.  Steadily,  imperceptibly, 
and  surely,  until  now  it  was  paramount  and  supreme.  She 
herself  had  none  ;  and  yet  he  treated  her  with  more  affection 
than  at  any  previous  time.  Martin  thought  the  inconsistency 
a  part  of  his  weakness  and  decay. 

"  Does  the  influence  extend  to  fear  ?  "  said  Martin.  "  Is 
he  timid  of  asserting  his  own  opinion  in  the  presence  of  this 
infatuation  ?     I  fancied  so  just  now." 

"  I  have  thought  so,  often.  Often  when  we  are  sitting 
alone,  almost  as  we  used  to  do,  and  I  have  been  reading  a 
favorite  book  to  him,  or  he  has  been  talking  quite  cheerfully, 
I  have  observed  that  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  has 
changed  his  whole  demeanor.  He  has  broken  off  immediately, 
and  become  what  you  have  seen  to-day.  When  we  first  came 
here  he  had  his  impetuous  outbreaks,  in  which  it  was  not  easy 
for  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  utmost  plausibility  to  appease  him. 
But  these  have  long  since  dwindled  away.  He  defers  to  him 
in  everything,  and  has  no  opinion  upon  any  question,  but  that 
which  is  forced  upon  him  by  this  treacherous  man." 

Such  was  the  account — rapidly  furnished  in  whispers,  and 
interrupted,  brief  as  it  was,  by  many  false  alarms  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's return — which  Martin  received  of  his  grandfather's  de- 
cline, and  of  that  good  gentleman's  ascendancy.  He  heard 
of  Tom  Pinch,  too,  and  Jonas,  too,  with  not  a  little  about  him- 
self into  the  bargain  ;  for  though  lovers  are  remarkable  for 
leaving  a  great  deal  unsaid  on  all  occasions,  and  very  probably 
desiring  to  come  back  and  say  it,  they  are  remarkable  also 
for  a  wonderful  power  of  condensation,  and  can,  in  one  way 
or  other,  gave  utterance  to  more  language — eloquent  language 
— in  any  given  short  space  of  time,  than  all  the  six  hundred 
and  fifty-eight  members  in  the  Commons  House  of  Parlia- 
ment of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  ; 
who  are  strong  lovers,  no  doubt,  but  of  their  country  only, 
which  makes  all  the  difference  ;  for  in  a  passion  of  that  kind 
(which  is  not  always  returned),  it  is  the  custom  to  use  as 
many  words  as  possible,  and  express  nothing  whatever. 

A  caution  from  Mr.  'I'apley  ;  a  hasty  interchange  of  fare- 
wells, and  of  something  else  which  the  proverb  says  must  not 
be  told  of  afterwards  ;  a  white  hand  held  out  to  Mr.  Tapley 
himself,  which  he  kissed  with  the  devotion  of  a  knight-errant  ; 
more  farewells,  more  something  else's  ;  a  parting  word  from 
Martin  that  he  would  write  from  London  and  would  do  great 
things  there  yet  (Heaven  knows  what,  but  he  quite  believed 


672  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

it) ;  and  Mark  and  he  stood  on  the  outside  of  the  Pecksniffian 
halls. 

"  A  short  interview  after  such  an  absence  !  "  said  Martin, 
sorrowfully.  "  But  we  are  well  out  of  the  house.  We  might 
have  placed  ourselves  in  a  false  position  by  remaining  there, 
even  so  long,  Mark." 

"I  don't  know  about  ourselves,  sir,"  he  returned;  "but 
somebody  else  would  have  got  into  a  false  position,  if  he  had 
happened  to  come  back  again,  while  we  was  there.  I  had  the 
door  all  ready,  sir.  If  Pecksniff  had  showed  his  head,  or  had 
only  so  much  as  listened  behind  it,  I  would  have  caught  him 
like  a  walnut.  He's  the  sort  of  man,"  added  Mr.  Tapley, 
musing,  "  as  would  squeeze  soft,  I  know." 

A  person  who  was  evidently  going  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house, 
passed  them  at  this  moment.  He  raised  his  eyes  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  architect's  name ;  and  when  he  had  gone  on  a  few 
yards,  stopped,  and  gazed  at  them.  Mr.  Tapley,  also,  looked 
over  his  shoulder,  and  so  did  Martin  ;  for  the  stranger,  as  he 
passed,  had  looked  very  sharply  at  them. 

"  Who  may  that  be,  I  wonder  !  "  said  Martin.  "  The  face 
seems  familiar  to  me,  but  I  don't  know  the  man." 

"  He  seems  to  have  a  amiable  desire  that  his  face  should 
be  tolerable  familiar  to  us,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "for  he's  a 
staring  pretty  hard.  He'd  better  not  waste  his  beauty,  for  he 
ain't  got  much  to  spare." 

Coming  in  sight  of  the  Dragon,  they  saw  a  travelling  car- 
riage at  the  door. 

"  And  a  Salisbury  carriage,  eh  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  That's 
what  he  came  in,  depend  upon  it.  What's  in  the  wind  now  ? 
A  new  pupil,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  P'raps  it's  a  order  for  an- 
other grammar-school,  of  the  same  pattern  as  the  last." 

Before  they  could  enter  at  the  door,  Mrs.  Lupin  came  run- 
ning out,  and  beckoning  them  to  the  carriage  showed  them  a 
portmanteau  with  the  name  of  Chuzzlewit  upon  it. 

"  Miss  Pecksniff's  husband  that  was,"  said  the  good 
woman  to  Martin.  "  I  didn't  know  what  terms  you  might  be 
on,  and  was  quite  in  a  worry  till  you  came  back." 

"  He  and  I  have  never  interchanged  a  word  yet,"  observed 
Martin  ;  "  and  as  I  have  no  wish  to  be  better  or  worse  ac- 
quainted with  him,  I  will  not  put  myself  in  his  way.  We 
passed  him  on  the  road,  I  have  no  doubt.  I  am  glad  he  timed 
his  coming  as  he  did.  Upon  my  word  !  Miss  Pecksniff's 
husband  travels  gayly  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


673 


"  A  ver}'  fine-looking  gentleman  with  him — in  the  best  room 
now,"  whispered  Mrs.  Lupin,  glancing  up  at  the  window  as 
they  went  into  the  house.  *'  He  has  ordered  eveiything  that 
can  be  got  for  dinner  ;  and  has  the  glossiest  mustaches  and 
whiskers  ever  you  saw." 

"  Has  he  ? "  cried  Martin,  "  why  then  we'll  endeavor  to 
avoid  him  too,  in  the  hope  that  our  self-denial  may  be  strong 
enough  for  the  sacrifice.  It  is  only  for  a  few  hours,"  said 
Martin,  dropping  wearily  into  a  chair  behind  the  little  screen 
in  the  bar.  "  Our  visit  has  met  with  no  success,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Lupin,  and  I  must  go  to  London." 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  the  hostess. 

"Yes.  One  foul  wind  no  more  makes  a  winter,  than  one 
swallow  makes  a  summer.  Lll  try  it  again.  Tom  Pinch  has 
succeeded.  With  his  advice  to  guide  me,  I  may  do  the  same. 
I  took  Tom  under  my  protection  once,  God  save  the  mark  !  " 
said  Martin,  with  a  melancholy  smile  ,  "  and  promised  I  would 
make  his  fortune.  Perhaps  Tom  will  take  me  under  his  pro- 
tection now,  and  teach  me  how  to  earn  my  bread." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


FURTHER   CONTINUATION    OF    THE    ENTERPRISE   OF    MR.    JONAS 

AND    HIS    FRIEND. 

It  was  a  special  quality,  among  the  many  admirable  qual- 
ities possessed  by  Mr.  Pecksniff,  that  the  more  he  was  found 
out,  the  more  hypocrisy  he  practised.  Let  him  be  discom- 
forted in  one  quarter,  and  he  refreshed  and  recompensed 
himself  by  carrying  the  war  into  another.  If  his  workings  and 
windings  were  detected  by  A,  so  much  the  greater  reason  was 
there  for  practising  without  loss  of  time  on  B,  if  it  were  only 
to  keep  his  hand  in.  He  had  never  been  such  a  saintly  and 
improving  spectacle  to  all  about  him,  as  after  his  detection 
by  Thomas  Pinch.  He  had  scarcely  ever  been  at  once  so 
tender  in  his  humanity,  and  so  dignified  and  exalted  in  his 
virtue,  as  when  young  Martin's  scorn  was  fresh  and  hot  upon 
him.  43 


674 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Having  this  large  stock  of  superfluous  sentiment  and  mo- 
rality on  hand  which  must  positively  be  cleared  off  at  any  sacri- 
lice,  Mr.  Pecksniff  no  sooner  heard  nis  son-in-law  announced, 
than  he  regarded  him  as  a  kind  of  wholesale  or  general  order, 
to  be  immediately  executed.  Descending,  therefore,  swiftly 
to  the  parlor,  and  clasping  the  young  man  in  his  arms,  he  ex- 
claimed, with  looks  and  gestures  that  denoted  the  perturba- 
tion of  his  spirit : 

"  Jonas  !  My  child  !  She  is  well  !  There  is  nothing  the 
matter .'' " 

"  What,  you're  at  it  again,  are  you  ?  "  replied  his  son-in-law. 
"  Even  with  me  !     Get  away  with  you,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  she  is  well  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Tell 
me  she  is  well,  my  Boy  !  " 

"  She's  well  enough,"  retorted  Jonas,  disengaging  himself. 
"  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  her.'' 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  her !  "  cried  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff,  sitting  down  in  the  nearest  chair,  and  rubbing  up  his 
hair.  "  Fie  upon  my  weakness !  I  cannot  help  it,  Jonas. 
Thank  you.  1  am  better  now.  How  is  my  other  child  ;  my 
eldest :  my  Cherrywerrychigo  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  inventing 
a  playful  little  name  for  her,  in  the  restored  lightness  of  his 
heart. 

"  She's  much  about  the  same  as  usual,"  returned  Mr. 
Jonas.  "  She  sticks  pretty  close  to  the  vinegar-bottle.  You 
know  she's  got  a  sweetheart,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  from  head- 
quarters ;  from  my  child  herself.  I  will  not  deny  that  it  moved 
me  to  contemplate  the  loss  of  my  remaining  daughter,  Jonas 
— I  am  afraid  we  parents  are  selfish,  I  am  afraid  we  are — but 
it  has  ever  been  the  study  of  my  life  to  qualify  them  for  the 
domestic  hearth  ;  and  it  is  a  sphere  which  Cherry  will  adorn." 

"  She  need  adorn  some  sphere  or  other,"  observed  his  son- 
in-law,  "  for  she  ain't  very  ornamental  in  general." 

"  My  girls  are  now  provided  for,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  They  are  now  happily  provided  for,  and  I  have  not  labored 
in  vain  !  " 

This  IS  exactly  what  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  said,  if  one 
of  his  daughters  had  drawn  a  prize  of  thirty  thousand  pounds 
in  the  lotter}^  or  if  the  other  had  picked  up  a  valuable  purse 
in  the  street,  which  nobody  appeared  to  claim.  In  either  of 
these  cases,  he  would  have  invoked  a  patriarchal  blessing  on 
the  fortunate  head,  with  great  solemnity,   and  would   have 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  675 

taken  immense  credit  to  himself,  as  having  meant  it  from  the 
infant's  cradle. 

"  Suppose  we  talk  about  something  else,  now,"  observed 
Jonas,  dryly  ;  "  just  for  a  change.     Are  you  quite  agreeable  ?  " 

"  Quite,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ah,  you  wag,  you  naughty 
wag !  You  laugh  at  poor  old  fond  papa.  Well  !  He  de- 
serves it.  And  he  don't  mind  it  either,  for  his  feelings  are 
their  own  reward.     You  have  come  to  stay  with  me,  Jonas  '  " 

"  No.     I've  got  a  friend  with  me,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Bring  your  friend  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  gush  of 
hospitality.     "  Bring  any  number  of  your  friends  !  " 

"  This  ain't  the  sort  of  man  to  be  brought,"  said  Jonas, 
contemptuously.  "  I  think  I  see  myself  '  bringing '  him  to 
your  house,  for  a  treat  !  Thank'ee  all  the  same  ;  but  he's  a 
little  too  near  the  top  of  the  tree  for  that,  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  pricked  up  his  ears  ;  his  interest  was 
awakened.  A  position  near  the  top  of  the  tree  was  greatness, 
virtue,  goodness,  sense,  genius  ;  or,  it  should  rather  be  said, 
a  dispensation  from  all,  and  in  itself  something  immeasurably 
better  than  all  ;  with  Mr.  Pecksniff.  A  man  who  was  able  to 
look  down  upon  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  not  be  looked  up  at,  by 
that  gentleman,  with  too  great  an  amount  of  deference,  or 
from  a  position  of  too  much  humility.  So  it  always  is  with 
great  spirits. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  may  do,  if  you  like,"  said  Jonas: 
"  you  may  come  and  dine  with  us  at  the  Dragon.  We  were 
forced  to  come  down  to  Salisbury  last  night,  on  some  business, 
and  I  got  him  to  bring  me  over  here  this  morning,  in  his  car- 
riage ;  at  least,  not  his  own  carriage,  for  we  had  a  break-down 
in  the  night,  but  one  we  hired  instead  ;  it's  all  the  same. 
Mind  what  you're  about,  you  know.  He's  not  used  to  all 
sorts ;  he  only  mixes  with  the  best !  " 

"  Some  young  nobleman  who  has  been  borrowing  money 
of  you  at  good  interest,  eh .''  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his 
forefinger  facetiously.  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  know  the  gay 
sprig." 

"  Borrowing  !  "  echoed  Jonas.  "  Borrowing  !  When  you're 
a  twentieth  part  as  rich  as  he  is,  you  may  shut  up  shop  !  We 
should  be  pretty  well  off,  if  we  could  buy  his  furniture,  and 
plate,  and  pictures,  by  clubbing  together.  A  likely  man  to 
borrow  :  Mr.  Montague  !  Why,  since  1  was  lucky  enough 
(come  !  and  I'll  say,  sharp  enough,  too)  to  get  a  share  in  the 
Assurance  Office   that  he  s  President  of,  I've  made — never 


676  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

mind  what  I've  made,"  said  Jonas,  seeming  to  recover  all  at 
once  his  usual  caution.  "  You  know  me  pretty  well,  and  I 
don't  blab  about  such  things.     But,  Ecod,  I've  made  a  trifle." 

"  Really,  my  dear  Jonas,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  much 
warmth,  "  a  gentleman  like  this  should  receive  some  attention. 
Would  he  like  to  see  the  church  ?  Or  if  he  has  a  taste  for  the 
fine  arts — which  I  have  no  doubt  he  has,  from  the  description 
you  give  of  his  circumstances — I  can  send  him  down  a  few 
portfolios.  Salisbury  Cathedral,  my  dear  Jonas,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff — the  mention  of  the  portfolios,  and  his  anxiety  to 
display  himself  to  advantage,  suggesting  his  usual  phraseology 
in  that  regard — "  is  an  edifice  replete  with  venerable  associa- 
tions, and  strikingly  suggestive  of  the  loftiest  emotions.  It  is 
here  we  contemplate  the  work  of  bygone  ages.  It  is  here  we 
listen  to  the  swelling  organ,  as  we  stroll  through  the  rever- 
berating aisles.  We  have  drawings  of  this  celebrated  structure 
from  the  North,  from  the  South,  from  the  East,  from  the 
West,  from  the  South-East,  from  the  Nor'- West " 

During  this  digression,  and  indeed  during  the  whole  dia- 
logue, Jonas  had  been  rocking  on  his  chair,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  his  head  thrown  cunningly  on  one  side.  He 
looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff  now  with  such  shrewd  meaning  twink- 
ling in  his  eyes,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  stopped,  and  asked  him 
what  he  was  going  to  say. 

"  Ecod  ! "  he  answered.  "  Pecksniff,  if  I  knew  how  you 
meant  to  leave  your  money,  I  could  put  you  in  the  way  of 
doubling  it,  in  no  ■time.  It  wouldn't  be  bad  to  keep  a  chance 
like  this  snug  in  the  family.     But  you're  such  a  deep  one  !  " 

"  Jonas  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff',  much  affected,  "  I  am  not 
a  diplomatical  character  :  my  heart  is  in  my  hand.  By  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  inconsiderable  savings  I  have  accumula- 
ted in  the  course  of — I  hope — a  not  dishonorable  or  useless 
career,  is  already  given,  devised,  and  bequeathed  (correct  me, 
my  dear  Jonas,  if  I  am  technically  wrong),  with  expressions 
of  confidence,  which  I  will  not  repeat ;  and  in  securities  which 
it  is  unnecessary  to  mention  ;  to  a  person  whom  I  cannot, 
whom  I  will  not,  whom  I  need  not,  name."  Here  he  give  the 
hand  of  his  son-in-law  a  fervent  squeeze,  as  if  he  would  have 
added,  "God  bless  you;  be  very  careful  of  it  when  you  get 
it!" 

Mr.  Jonas  only  shook  his  head  and  laughed,  and  seeming 
to  think  better  of  what  he  had  had  in  his  mind,  said,  "  No. 
He  would  keep  his  own  counsel."     But  as  he  observed  that 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  677 

he  would  take  a  walk,  Mr.  Pecksniff  insisted  on  accompanying 
him,  remarking  that  he  could  leave  a  card  for  Mr.  Montague, 
as  they  went  along,  by  way  of  gentleman-usher  to  himself  at 
dinner-time.     Which  he  did. 

In  the  course  of  their  walk,  Mr.  Jonas  affected  to  maintain 
that  close  reserve  which  had  operated  as  a  timely  check  upon 
him  during  the  foregoing  dialogue.  And  as  he  made  no  at- 
tempt to  conciliate  Mr.  Pecksniff,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was 
more  boorish  and  rude  to  him  than  usual,  that  gentleman,  so 
far  from  suspecting  his  real  design,  laid  himself  out  to  be 
attacked  with  advantage.  For  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  knave 
to  thmk  the  tools  with  which  he  works  indispensable  to 
knavery  ;  and  knowing  what  he  would  do  himself  in  such  a 
case,  Mr.  Pecksniff  argued,  "if  this  young  man  wanted  any- 
thing of  me  for  his  own  ends,  he  would  be  polite  and  defer- 
ential." 

The  more  Jonas  repelled  him*  in  his  hints  and  inquiries, 
the  more  solicitous,  therefore,  Mr.  Pecksniff  became  to  be 
initiated  into  the  golden  mysteries  at  which  he  had  obscurely 
glanced.  Why  should  there  be  cold  and  worldly  secrets,  he 
observed,  between  relations  ?  \\'hat  was  life  without  confi- 
dence ?  If  the  chosen  husband  of  his  daughter,  the  man  to 
whom  he  had  delivered  her  with  so  much  pride  and  hope, 
such  bounding  and  such  beaming  joy :  if  he  were  not  a  green 
spot  in  the  barren  waste  of  life,  where  was  that  Oasis  to  be 
found  ? 

Little  did  Mr.  Pecksniff  think  on  what  a  very  green  spot 
he  planted  one  foot  at  that  moment !  Little  did  he  foresee 
when  he  said,  "  All  is  but  dust !  "  how  very  shortly  he  would 
come  down  with  his  own. 

Inch  by  inch,  in  his  grudging  and  ill-conditioned  way ; 
sustained  to  the  life,  for  the  hope  of  making  Mr.  Pecksniff 
suffer  in  that  tender  place,  the  pocket,  where  Jonas  smarted 
so  terribly  himself,  gave  him  an  additional  and  malicious  in- 
terest in  the  wiles  he  was  set  on  to  practise  :  inch  by  inch, 
and  bit  by  bit,  Jonas  rather  allowed  the  dazzling  prospects  of 
the  Anglo-Bengalee  establishment  to  escape  him,  than  para- 
ded them  before  his  greedy  listener.  And  in  the  same  nig- 
pardly  spirit,  he  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  infer,  if  he  chose  (which 
he  did  choose,  of  course),  that  a  consciousness  of  not  having 
any  great  natural  gifts  of  speech  and  manner  himself,  rendered 
him  desirous  to  have  the  credit  of  introducing  to  Mr.  Mon- 
tague some  one  who  was  well  endowed  in  those  respects,  and 


678 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


SO  atone  for  his  own  deficiencies.  Otherwise  he  muttered 
discontentedly,  he  would  have  seen  his  beloved  father-in-law 
"  far  enough  off,"  before  he  would  have  taken  him  into  his 
confidence. 

Primed  in  this  artful  manner,  Mr.  Pecksniff  presented 
himself  at  dinner-time  in  such  a  state  of  suavity,  benevolence, 
cheerfulness,  politeness,  and  cordiality,  as  even  he  had  per- 
haps never  attained  before.  The  frankness  of  the  country 
gentleman,  the  refinement  of  the  artist,  the  good-humored  al- 
lowance of  the  man  of  the  world ;  philanthropy,  forbearance, 
piety,  toleration,  all  blended  together  in  a  flexible  adaptability 
to  anything  and  everything  ;  were  expressed  in  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, as  he  shook  hands  with  the  great  speculator  and  capi- 
talist. 

"  Welcome,  respected  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  our 
humble  village  !  We  are  a  simple  people  ;  primitive  clods,  Mr. 
Montague  ;  but  we  can  appreciate  the  honor  of  your  visit,  as 
my  dear  son-in-law  can  testify.  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  pressing  his  hand  almost  reverentially,  "  but  I  seem 
to  know  you.  That  towering  forehead,  my  dear  Jonas,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff  aside,  "  and  those  clustering  masses  of  rich  hair 
— I  must  have  seen  you,  my  dear  sir,  in  the  sparkling  throng." 

Nothing  was  more  probable,  they  all  agreed. 

"  I  could  have  wished,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  have  had 
the  honor  of  introducing  you  to  an  elderly  inmate  of  our 
house  :  to  the  uncle  of  our  friend.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  sir,  would 
have  been  proud  indeed  to  have  taken  you  by  the  hand." 

"  Is  the  gentleman  here  now  ?  "  asked  Montague,  turning 
deeply  red. 

"He  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  said  nothing  about  that,  Chuzzlewit." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  care  to  hear  of  it,"  returned 
Jonas.  "  You  wouldn't  care  to  know  him,  I  can  promise 
you." 

"  Jonas  !  my  dear  Jonas  !  "  remonstrated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Really  !  " 

"  Oh  !  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to  speak  up  for  him,"  said 
Jonas.     "  You  have  nailed  him.    You'll  get  a  fortune  by  him." 

"Oho  !  Is  the  wind  in  that  quarter  1  "  cried  Montague. 
"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  "  and  here  they  all  laughed — especially  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  that  gentleman,  clapping  his  son-in-law 
playfully  upon  the  shoulder.     "  You  must  not  believe  all  that 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


679 


my  young  relative  says,  Mr.  Montague.  You  may  believe 
him  in  official  business,  and  trust  him  in  official  business,  but 
you  must  not  attach  importance  to  his  flights  of  fancy." 

"  Upon  my  life,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  cried  Montague,  "I  attach 
the  greatest  importance  to  that  last  observation  of  his.  I 
trust  and  hope  it's  true.  Money  cannot  be  turned  and  turned 
quickly  enough  in  the  ordinary  course,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  There 
is  nothing  like  building  our  fortunes  on  the  weaknesses  of 
mankind." 

"  Oh  fie  !  Oh  fie  !  Oh  fie,  for  shame  !  "  cried  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff.    But  they  all  laughed  again — especially  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"I  give  you  my  honor  that  we^o  it,"  said  Montague. 

"  Oh  fie,  fie  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  You  are  very  pleas- 
ant. That  I  am  sure  you  don't  !  That  I  am  sure  you  don't ! 
How  can  you,  you  know  ?  " 

Again  they  all  laughed  in  concert ;  and  again  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff laughed  especially. 

This  was  very  agreeable  indeed.  It  was  confidential, 
easy,  straightforward,  and  still  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  the  posi- 
tion of  being  in  a  gentle  way  the  Mentor  of  the  party.  The 
greatest  achievements  in  the  article  of  cookery  that  the  Drag- 
on had  ever  performed,  were  set  before  them  ;  the  oldest  and 
best  v/ines  in  the  Dragon's  cellar  saw  the  light  on  that 
occasion  ;  a  thousand  bubbles,  indicative  of  the  wealth  and 
station  of  Mr.  Montague  in  the  depths  of  his  pursuits,  were 
constantly  rising  to  the  surface  of  the  conversation  ;  and  they 
were  as  frank  and  merry  as  three  honest  men  could  be.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  thought  it  a  pity  (he  said  so)  that  Mr.  Montague 
should  think  lightly  of  mankind  and  their  weaknesses.  He 
was  anxious  upon  this  subject ;  his  mind  ran  upon  it ;  in  one 
way  or  another  he  was  constantly  coming  back  to  it  ;  he  must 
make  a  convert  of  him,  he  said.  And  as  often  as  Mr.  Mon- 
tague repeated  his  sentiment  about  building  fortunes  on  the 
weaknesses  of  mankind,  and  added  frankly,  "  M'c  do  it!" 
just  as  often  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  repeated  "Oh  fie  !  Oh  fie,  for 
shame  !  I  am  sure  you  don't.  How  can  you,  you  know  ? " 
laying  a  greater  stress  each  time  on  those  last  words. 

The  frequent  repetition  of  this  playful  inquiry  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  led  at  last  to  playful  answers  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Montague  ;  but  after  some  little  sharp-shooting  on  both 
sides,  Mr.  Pecksniff  became  grave,  almost  to  tears  ;  observing 
that  if  Mr.  Montague  would  give  him  leave,  he  would  drink 
the  health  of  his  young  kinsman,  Mr.  Jonas:  congratulating 


68 o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

him  upon  the  vakiable  and  distinguished  friendship  he  had 
formed,  but  envying  him,  lie  would  confess,  his  usefuhiess  to 
his  fellow-creatures.  For,  if  he  understood  the  objects  of 
that  Institution  with  which  he  was  newly  and  advantageously 
connected— knowing  them  but  imperfectly — they  were  calcu- 
lated to  do  Good  ;  and  for  his  (Mr.  Pecksniff's)  part,  if  he 
could  in  any  way  promote  them,  he  thought  he  would  be  able 
to  lay  his  head  upon  his  pillow  eveiy  night,  with  an  absolute 
certainty  of  going  to  sleep  at  once. 

The  transition  from  this  accidental  remark  (for  it  was 
quite  accidental,  and  had  fallen  from  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  the 
openness  of  his  soul),  to  the  discussion  of  the  subject  as  a 
matter  of  business,  was  easy.  Books,  papers,  statements, 
tables,  calculations  of  various  kinds,  were  soon  spread  out  be- 
fore them  ;  and  as  they  were  all  framed  with  one  object,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  they  should  have  all  tended  to  one  end. 
But  still,  whenever  Montague  enlarged  upon  the  profits  of  the 
office,  and  said  that  as  long  as  there  were  gulls  upon  the  wing 
it  must  succeed,  Mr.  Pecksniff  mildly  said  "  Oh  fie  !  " — and 
might  indeed  have  remonstrated  with  him,  but  that  he  knew 
he  was  joking.  Mr.  Pecksniff  did  know  he  was  joking  ;  be- 
cause he  said  so. 

There  never  had  been  before,  and  there  never  would  be 
again,  such  an  opportunity  for  the  investment  of  a  consider- 
able sum  (the  rate  of  advantage  increased  in  proportion  to 
the  amount  invested),  as  at  that  moment.  The  only  time  that 
had  at  all  approached  it,  was  the  time  when  Jonas  had  come 
into  the  concern ;  which  made  him  ill-natured  now,  and  in- 
clined him  to  pick  out  a  doubt  in  this  place,  and  a  fiaw  in 
that,  and  grumblingly  to  advise  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  think  better 
of  it.  The  sum  which  would  complete  the  proprietorship  in 
in  this  snug  concern,  was  nearly  equal  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
whole  hoard,  not  counting  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  that  is  to  say, 
whom  he  looked  upon  as  money  in  the  Bank,  the  possession 
of  which  inclined  him  the  more  to  make  a  dash  with  his  own 
private  sprats  for  the  capture  of  such  a  whale  as  Mr.  Mon- 
tague described.  The  returns  began  almost  immediately,  and 
were  immense.  The  end  of  it  was,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  agreed 
to  become  the  last  partner  and  proprietor  in  the  Anglo-Ben- 
galee, and  made  an  appointment  to  dine  with  Mr.  Montague, 
at  Salisbury,  on  the  next  day  but  one,  then  and  there  to  com- 
plete the  negotiation. 

It  took  so  long  to  bring  the   subject  to  this  head,  that  it 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  68 1 

was  nearly  midnight  when  they  parted.  When  Mr.  Pecksniff 
walked  down  stairs  to  the  door,  he  found  Mrs.  Lupin  stand- 
ing there,  looking  out. 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend  !  "  he  said  :  "  not  a-bed  yet !  Con- 
templating the  stars,  Mrs.  Lupin  ?  " 

•'  It's  a  beautiful  starlight  night,  sir." 

"  A  beautiful  starlight  night,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking 

up.     "  Behold  the  planets,  how  they  shine  !     Behold  the 

those  two  persons  who  were  here  this  morning,  have  left  your 
house,  I  hope,  Mrs.  Lupin  .?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     They  are  gone." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Behold  the 
wonders  of  the  firmament,  Mrs.  Lupin  !  How  glorious  is  the 
scene  !  When  I  look  up  at  those  shining  orbs,  I  think  that 
each  of  them  is  winking  to  the  other  to  take  notice  of  the 
vanity  of  men's  pursuits.  My  fellow-men  !  "  cried  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, shaking  his  head  in  pity ;  "  you  are  much  mistaken  ;  my 
wormy  relatives,  you  are  much  deceived  !  The  stars  are  per- 
fectly contented  (I  suppose  so)  in  their  several  spheres.  Why 
are  not  you  ?  Oh  !  do  not  strive  and  struggle  to  enrich  your- 
selves, or  to  get  the  better  of  each  other,  my  deluded  friends, 
but  look  up  there,  with  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  shook  her  head,  and  heaved  a  sigh.  It  was 
very  affecting. 

"  Look  up  there,  with  me  !  "  •  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
stretching  out  his  hand  ;  "  with  me,  an  humble  individual  who 
is  also  an  Insect  like  yourselves.  Can  silver,  gold,  or  pre- 
cious stones,  sparkle  like  those  constellations  !  I  think  not. 
Then  do  not  thirst  for  silver,  gold,  or  precious  stones ;  but 
look  up  there,  with  me  !  " 

With  those  words,  the  good  man  patted  Mrs.  Lupin's 
hand  between  his  own,  as  if  he  would  have  added  *'  think  of 
this,  my  good  woman  !  "  and  walked  away  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy 
or  rapture,  with  his  hat  under  his  arm. 

Jonas  sat  in  the  attitude  in  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  left 
him,  gazing  moodily  at  his  friend,  who,  surrounded  by  a  heap 
of  documents,  was  writing  something  on  an  oblong  slip  of 
paper. 

"  You  mean  to  wait  at  Salisbury  over  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row, do  you,  then  ?  "  said  Jonas. 

"  You  heard  our  appointment,"  returned  Montague,  with- 
out raising  his  eyes.  "  In  any  case  I  should  have  waited  to 
see  after  the  boy." 


682  MAJi TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

They  appeared  to  have  changed  places  again ;  Montague 
being  in  high  spirits ;  Jonas  gloomy  and  lowering. 

"  You  don't  want  me,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Jonas, 

"  I  want  you  to  put  your  name  here,"  he  returned,  glancing 
at  him  with  a  smile,  "  as  soon  as  I  have  filled  up  the  stamp. 
I  may  as  well  have  your  note  of  hand  for  that  extra  capital. 
That's  all  I  want.  If  you  wish  to  go  home,  I  can  manage  Mr. 
Pecksniff  now,  alone.  There  is  a  perfect  understanding  be- 
tween us." 

Jonas  sat  scowling  at  him  as  he  wrote,  in  silence.  When 
he  had  finished  his  writing,  and  had  dried  it  on  the  blotting- 
paper  in  his  travelling-desk,  he  looked  up,  and  tossed  the  pen 
towards  him. 

"  What,  not  a  day's  grace,  not  a  day's  trust,  eh  ? "  said 
Jonas,  bitterly.  "Not  after  the  pains  I  have  taken  with  to- 
night's work  .-'  " 

"  To-night's  work  was  a  part  of  our  bargain,"  replied 
Montague  ;  "and  so  was  this." 

"  You  drive  a  hard  bargain,"  said  Jonas,  advancing  to  the 
table.     "  You  know  best.     Give  it  here  !  " 

Montague  gave  him  the  paper.  After  pausing  as  if  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  put  his  name  to  it,  Jonas  dipped 
his  pen  hastily  in  the  nearest  inkstand,  and  began  to  write. 
But  he  had  scarcely  marked  the  paper  when  he  started  back, 
in  a  panic. 

"  Why,  what  the  devil's  this  .?  "  he  said.     "  It's  bloody  !  " 

He  had  dipped  the  pen,  as  another  moment  showed,  into 
red  ink.  But  he  attached  a  strange  degree  of  importance  to 
the  mistake.  He  asked  how  it  had  come  there,  who  had 
brought  it,  why  it  had  been  brought ;  and  looked  at  Montague, 
at  first,  as  if  he  thought  he  had  put  a  trick  upon  him.  Even 
when  he  used  a  different  pen,  and  the  right  ink,  he  made  some 
scratches  on  another  paper  first,  as  half-believing  they  would 
turn  red  also. 

"  Black  enough,  this  time,"  he  said,  handing  the  note  to 
Montague.     "Good-by." 

"  Going  now  !     How  do  you  mean  to  get  away  from  here  ?  " 

"  I  shall  cross  early  in  the  morning,  to  the  high  road,  be- 
fore you  are  out  of  bed  ;  and  catch  the  day-coach,  going  up. 
Good-by !  " 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry  ! " 

"  I  have  something  to  do,"  said  Jonas.     "  Good-by !  " 

His  friend  looked  after  him  as  he  went  out,  in   surprise, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  683 

which  gradually  gave  place   to  an  air  of  satisfaction   and  re- 
lief. 

"  It  happens  all  the  better.     It  brings  about  what  I  wanted, 
without  any  difficulty.     I  shall  travel  home  alone." 


CHAPTER   XLV. 


IN  WHICH  TOM  PINCH  AND  HIS  SISTER  TAKE  A  LITTLE  PLEAS- 
URE ;  BUT  QUITE  IN  A  DOMESTIC  WAY,  AND  WITH  NO  CERE- 
MONY   ABOUT    IT. 

Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister  having  to  part,  for  the  dispatch 
of  the  morning's  business,  immediately  after  the  dispersion  of 
the  other  actors  in  the  scene  upon  the  Wharf  with  which  the 
reader  has  been  already  made  acquainted,  had  no  opportunity 
of  discussing  the  subject  at  that  time.  But  Tom,  in  his  soli- 
tary office,  and  Ruth,  in  the  triangular  parlor,  thought  about 
nothing  else  all  day  ;  and,  when  their  hour  of  meeting  in  the 
afternoon  approached,  they  were  very  full  of  it,  to  be  sure. 

There  was  a  little  plot  between  them,  that  Tom  should 
always  come  out  of  the  Temple  by  one  way  ;  and  that  was 
past  the  fountain.  Coming  through  Fountain  Court,  he  was 
just  to  glance  down  the  steps  leading  into  Garden  Court,  and 
to  look  once  all  round  him ;  and  if  Ruth  had  come  to  meet 
him,  there  he  would  see  her ;  not  sauntering,  you  understand 
(on  account  of  the  clerks),  but  coming  briskly  up,  with  the 
best  little  laugh  upon  her  face  that  ever  played  in  opposition 
to  the  fountain,  and  beat  it  all  to  nothing.  For,  fifty  to  one, 
Tom  had  been  looking:  for  her  in  the  wrong  direction,  and 
had  quite  given  her  up,  while  she  had  been  tripping  towards 
him  from  the  first,  jingling  that  little  reticule  of  hers  (with 
all  the  keys  in  it)  to  attract  his  wandering  observation. 

Whether  there  was  life  enough  left  in  the  slow  vegetation 
of  Fountain  Court  for  the  smoky  shrubs  to  have  any  con- 
sciousness of  the  brightest  and  purest-hearted  little  woman  in 
the  world,  is  a  question  for  gardeners,  and  those  who  are 
learned  in  the  loves  of  plants.  But,  that  it  was  a  good  thing 
for  that  same  paved  yard  to  have  such  a  delicate  little  figure 
flitting  through  it ;  that  it  passed  like   a  smile  from  the  grimy 


684 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


old  houses,  and  the  worn  flag  stones,  and  left  them  duller, 
darker,  sterner  than  before  ;  there  is  no  sort  of  doubt.  The 
Temple  fountain  might  have  leaped  up  twenty  feet  to  greet 
the  spring  of  hopeful  maidenhood,  that  in  her  person  stole  on, 
sparkling,  through  the  dry  and  dusty  channels  of  the  Law  \ 
the  chirping  sparrows,  bred  in  Temple  chinks  and  crannies, 
might  have  held  their  peace  to  listen  to  imaginary  skylarks, 
as  so  fresh  a  little  creature  passed  ;  the  dingy  boughs,  unused 
to  droop,  otherwise  than  in  their  puny  growth,  might  have 
bent  down  in  a  kindred  gracefulness,  to  shed  their  benedic- 
tions on  her  graceful  head  ;  old  love  letters,  shut  up  in  iron 
boxes  in  the  neighboring  offices,  and  made  of  no  account 
among  the  heaps  of  family  papers  into  which  they  had  strayed, 
and  of  which,  in  their  degeneracy,  they  formed  a  part,  might 
have  stirred  and  fluttered  with  a  moment's  recollection  of  their 
ancient  tenderness,  as  she  went  lightly  by.  Anything  might 
have  happened  that  did  not  happen,  and  never  will,  for  the 
love  of  Ruth. 

Something  happened,  too,  upon  the  afternoon  of  which 
the  history  treats.  Nor  for  her  love.  Oh  no  !  quite  by  acci- 
dent, and  without  the  least  reference  to  her  at  all. 

Either  she  was  a  little  too  soon,  or  Tom  was  a  little  too 
late — she  was  so  precise  in  general,  that  she  timed  it  to  half 
a  minute — but  no  Tom  was  there.  Well  !  But  was  anybody 
else  there,  that  she  blushed  so  deeply,  after  looking  round, 
and  tripped  off  down  the  steps,  with  such  unusual  expedi- 
tion ? 

Why,  the  fact  is,  that  Mr.  Westlock  was  passing  at  that 
moment  The  Temple  is  a  public  thoroughfare  ;  they  may 
write  up  on  the  gates  that  it  is  not,  but  so  long  as  the  gates 
are  left  open  it  is,  and  will  be  ;  and  Mr.  Westlock  had  as  good 
a  right  to  be  there  as  anybody  else.  But  why  did  she  run 
away,  then  ?  Not  being  ill  dressed,  for  she  was  much  too 
neat  for  that,  why  did  she  run  away  ?  The  brown  hair  that 
had  fallen  down  beneath  her  bonnet,  and  had  one  imper- 
tinent imp  of  a  false  flower  clinging  to  it,  boastful  of  its 
licence  before  all  men,  that  could  not  have  been  the  c^use,  for 
it  looked  charming.  Oh !  foolish,  panting,  frightened  little 
heart,  why  did  she  run  away ! 

Merrily  the  tiny  fountain  played,  and  merrily  the  dimples 
sparkled  on  its  sunny  face.  John  Westlock  hurried  after  her. 
Softly  the  whispering  water  broke  and  fell ;  and  roguishly  the 
dimples  twinkled,  as  he  stole  upon  her  footsteps. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  685 

Oh,  foolish,  panting,  timid  little  heart,  why  did  she  feign 
to  be  unconscious  of  his  coming  !  Why  wish  herself  so  far 
away,  yet  be  so  flutteringly  happy  there  ! 

"  I  felt  sure  it  was  you,"  said  John,  when  he  overtook  her, 
in  the  sanctuary  of  Garden  Court.  "  I  knew  I  couldn't  be 
mistaken." 

She  was  so  surprised. 

"  You  are  waiting  for  your  brother  "  said  John.  "  Let 
me  bear  you  company." 

So  light  was  the  touch  of  the  coy  little  hand,  that  he 
glanced  down  to  assure  himself  he  had  it  on  his  arm.  But 
his  glance,  stopping  for  an  instant  at  the  bright  eyes,  forgot 
its  first  design,  and  went  no  farther. 

They  walked  up  and  down  three  or  four  times,  speaking 
about  Tom  and. his  mysterious  employment.  Now  that  was 
a  very  natural  and  innocent  subject,  surely.  Then  why,  when- 
ever Ruth  lifted  up  her  eyes,  did  she  let  them  fall  again  im- 
mediately, and  seek  the  uncongenial  pavement  of  the  court } 
They  were  not  such  eyes  as  shun  the  light ;  they  were  not 
such  eyes  as  require  to  be  hoarded  to  enhance  their  value. 
They  were  much  too  precious  and  too  genuine  to  stand  in 
need  of  arts  like  those.  Somebody  must  have  been  looking 
at  them  ! 

They  found  out  Tom,  though,  quickly  enough.  This  pair 
of  eyes  descried  him  in  the  distance,  the  moment  he  appeared. 
He  was  staring  about  him,  as  usual,  in  all  directions  but  the 
right  one  ;  and  was  as  obstinate  in  not  looking  towards  them, 
as  if  he  had  intended  it.  As  it  was  plain  that,  being  left  to 
himself,  he  would  walk  away  home,  John  Westlock  darted  off 
to  stop  him. 

This  made  the  approach  of  poor  little  Ruth,  by  herself, 
one  of  the  most  embarrassing  of  circumstances.  There  was 
Tom,  manifesting  extreme  surprise  (he  had  no  presence  of 
mind,  that  Tom,  on  small  occasions)  ;  there  was  John,  making 
as  light  of  it  as  he  could,  but  explaining  at  the  same  time, 
with  most  unnecessary  elaboration  \  and  here  was  she,  coming 
towards  them,  with  both  of  them  looking  at  her,  conscious  of 
blushing  to  a  terrible  extent,  but  trying  to  throw  up  her  eye- 
brows carelessly,  and  pout  her  rosy  lips,  as  if  she  were  the 
coolest  and  most  unconcerned  of  little  women. 

Merrily  the  fountain  plashed  and  plashed,  until  the  dim- 
ples, merging  into  one  another,  swelled  into  a  general  smile, 
that  covered  the  whole  surface  of  the  basin. 


686  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  meeting  !  "  said  Tom.  "  I  should 
never  have  dreamed  of  seeing  you  two  together  here." 

"  Quite  accidental,"  John  was  heard  to  murmur. 

"Exactly,"  cried  Tom  ;  "that's  what  I  mean,  you  know. 
If  it  wasn't  accidental,  there  would  be  nothing  remarkable  in 
it." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  John. 

"  Such  an  out-of-the-way  place  for  you  to  have  met  in," 
pursued  Tom,  quite  delighted.     "  Such  an  unlikely  spot !  " 

John  rather  disputed  that.  On  the  contrary,  he  consid- 
ered it  a  very  likely  spot,  indeed.  He  was  constantly  pass- 
ing to  and  fro  there,  he  said.  He  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were 
to  happen  again.  His  only  wonder  was,  that  it  had  never 
happened  before. 

By  chis  time  Ruth  had  got  round  on  the  farther  side  of  her 
brother,  and  had  taken  his  arm.  She  was  squeezing  it  now, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Are  you  going  to  stop  here  all  day,  you 
dear,  old  blundering  Tom  ?  " 

Tom  answered  the  squeeze  as  if  it  had  been  a  speech. 
"John,"  he  said,  "if  you'll  give  my  sister  your  arm,  we'll 
take  her  between  us,  and  walk  on.  I  have  a  curious  circum- 
stance to  relate  to  you.  Our  meeting  could  not  have  hap- 
pened better." 

Merrily  the  fountain  leaped  and  danced,  and  merrily  the 
smiling  dimples  twinkled  and  expanded  more  and  more,  until 
they  broke  into  a  laugh  against  the  basin's  rim,  and  vanished. 

"  Tom,"  said  his  friend,  as  they  turned  into  the  noisy 
street,  '■  I  have  a  proposition  to  make.  It  is,  that  you  and 
your  sister — if  she  will  so  far  honor  a  poor  bachelor's  dwell- 
ing— give  me  a  great  pleasure,  and  come  and  dine  with  me." 

"  What,  to-day  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Yes,  to-day.  It's  close  by,  you  know.  Pray,  Miss  Pinch, 
insist  upon  it.  It  will  be  very  disinterested,  for  I  have  noth- 
ing to  give  you." 

"  Oh  !  you  must  not  believe  that,  Ruth,"  said  Tom,  "  He 
is  the  most  tremendous  fellow,  in  his  housekeeping,  that  I 
ever  heard  of,  for  a  single  man.  He  ought  to  be  Lord  Mayor. 
Well  !  what  do  you  say?     Shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  Tom,"  rejoined  his  dutiful  litde  sister. 

"  But  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  regarding  her  with  smiling  ad- 
miration, "  is  there  anything  you  ought  to  wear,  and  haven't 
got }  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  John  :  she  may  not  be  able  to 
take  her  bonnet  off,  for  anything  I  can  tell." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  687 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  laughing  at  this,  and  there  were 
divers  compliments  from  John  Westlock — not  compliments,  he 
said  at  least  (and  really  he  was  right),  but  good,  plain,  hon- 
est truths,  which  no  one  could  deny.  Ruth  laughed,  and  all 
that,  but  she  made  no  objection  ;  so  it  was  an  engagement. 

"  If  I  had  known  it  a  little  sooner,"  said  John,  "  1  would 
have  tried  another  pudding.  Not  in  rivalry  ;  but  merely  to 
exalt  that  famous  one.  I  wouldn't  on  any  account  have  had 
it  made  with  suet." 

"  Why  not .''  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Because  that  cookery  book  advises  suet,"  said  John 
Westlock  ;  '*  and  ours  was  made  with  tiour  and  eggs." 

"  Oh  <rood  gracious  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Ours  was  made  with 
flour  and  eggs,  was  it  1  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  A  beefsteak  pudding 
made  with  flour  and  eggs  !  Why  anybody  knows  better  than 
that,     /know  better  than  that !     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  Tom  had  been  present  at  the 
making  of  the  pudding,  and  had  been  a  devoted  believer  in  it 
all  through.  But  he  was  so  delighted  to  have  this  joke  against 
his  busy  little  sister,  and  was  tickled  to  that  degree  at  having 
found  her  out,  that  he  stopped  in  Temple  Bar  to  laugh  ;  and 
it  was  no  more  to  Tom,  that  he  was  anathematized  and 
knocked  about  by  the  surly  passengers,  than  it  would  have 
been  to  a  post ;  for  he  continued  to  exclaim  with  unabated 
good  humor,  "flour  and  eggs  !  A  beefsteak  pudding  made 
with  fiour  and  eggs  !  "  until  John  Westlock  and  his  sister 
fairly  ran  away  from  him,  and  left  him  to  have  his  laugh  out 
by  himself  ;  which  he  had  ;  and  then  came  dodging  across  the 
crowded  street  to  them,  with  such  sweet  temper  and  tender- 
ness (it  was  quite  a  tender  joke  of  Tom's)  beaming  in  his  face, 
God  bless  it,  that  it  might  have  purified  the  air,  though 
Temple  Bar  had  been,  as  in  the  golden  days  gone  by, 
embellished  with  a  row  of  rotting  human  heads. 

There  are  snug  chambers  in  those  Inns  where  the  bachelors 
live,  and,  for  the  desolate  fellows  they  pretend  to  be,  it  is 
quite  surprising  how  well  they  get  on.  John  was  very  pathetic 
on  the  subject  of  his  dreary  life,  and  the  deplorable  make- 
shifts and  apologetic  contrivances  it  invohed  ;  .but  he  really 
seemed  to  make  himself  pretty  comfortable.  His  rooms  were 
the  perfection  of  neatness  and  convenience  at  any  rate  ;  and 
if  he  were  anything  but  comfortable,  the  fault  was  certahily 
not  theirs. 

He  had   no  sooner  ushered  Tom   and  his  sister  into  his 


688  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

best  room  (where  there  was  a  beautiful  little  vase  of  fresh 
flowers  on  the  table,  all  ready  for  Ruth. — Just  as  if  he  had 
expected  her,  Tom  said),  than  seizing  his  hat,  he  bustled  out 
again,  in  his  most  energetically  bustling  way ;  and  presently 
came  hurrying  back,  as  they  saw  through  the  half-opened 
door,  attended  by  a  fiery-faced  matron  attired  in  a  crunched 
bonnet,  with  particularly  long  strings  to  it  hanging  down  her 
back  ;  in  conjunction  with  whom,  he  instantly  began  to  lay  the 
cloth  for  dinner,  polishing  up  the  wine  glasses  with  his  own 
hands,  brightening  the  silver  top  of  the  pepper-castor  on  his 
coat-sleeve,  drawing  corks  and  filling  decanters,  with  a  skill 
and  expedition  that  were  quite  dazzling.  And  as  if,  in  the 
course  of  this  rubbing  and  polishing,  he  had  rubbed  an 
enchanted  lamp  or  a  magic  ring,  obedient  to  which  there  were 
twenty  thousand  supernatural  slaves  at  least,  suddenly  there 
appeared  a  being  in  a  white  waistcoat,  carr\-ing  under  his  arm 
a  napkin,  and  attended  by  another  being  with  an  oblong  box 
upon  his  head,  from  which  a  banquet,  piping  hot,  was  taken 
out  and  set  upon  the  table. 

Salmon,  lamb,  peas,  innocent  young  potatoes,  a  cool  salad, 
sliced  cucumber,  a  tender  duckfing,  and  a  tart — all  there. 
They  all  came  at  the  right  time.  Where  they  came  from, 
didn't  appear  ;  but  the  oblong  box  was  constantly  going  and 
coming,  and  making  its  arrival  known  to  the  man'in  the  white 
waistcoat  by  bumping  modestly  against  the  outside  of  the 
door ;  for,  after  its  first  appearance,  it  entered  the  room  no 
more.  He  was  never  surprised,  this  man  ;  he  never  seemed 
to  wonder  at  the  extraordinar}-  things  he  found  in  the  box  ; 
but  took  them  out  with  a  face  expressive  of  a  steady  purpose 
and  impenetrable  character,  and  put  them  on  the  table.  He 
was  a  kind  man  ;  gentle  in  his  manners,  and  much  interested 
in  what  they  ate  and  drank.  He  was  a  learned  man,  and 
knew  the  fiavor  of  John  Westlock's  private  sauces,  which  he 
softly  and  feelingly  described,  as  he  handed  the  little  bottles 
round.  He  was  a  grave  man,  and  a  noiseless  ;  for  dinner 
being  done,  and  wine  and  fruit  arranged  upon  the  board,  he 
vanished,  box  and  all,  like  something  that  had  never  been. 

"  Didn't  I  say  he  was  a  tremendous  fellow  in  his  house- 
keeping .?"  cried  Tom.     "  Bless  my  soul  !     It's  wonderful." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Pinch,"  said  John.  "  This  is  the  bright  side 
of  the  life  we  lead  in  such  a  place.  It  would  be  a  dismal  life, 
indeed,  if  it  didn't  brighten  up  to-day." 

"  Don't  believe  a  word  he  says,'"'  cried  Tom.     "  He  lives 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


689 


here  like  a  monarch,  and  wouldn't  change  his  mode  of  life  foi 
any  consideration.     He  only  pretends  to  grumble." 

No,  John  really  did  not  appear  to  pretend  \  for  he  was  un- 
commonly earnest  in  his  desire  to  ha\e  it  understood  that  he 
was  as  dull,  solitar\-,  and  uncomfortable  on  ordinary  occasions 
as  an  unfortunate  young  man  could,  in  reason,  be.  It  was  a 
wretched  life,  he  said,  a  miserable  life.  He  thought  of  getting 
rid  of  the  chambers  as  soon  as  possible  ;  and  meant,  in  fact, 
to  put  a  bill  up  very  shortly. 

"Well  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  "  I  don't  know  where  vou  can 
go,  John,  to  be  more  comfortable.  That's  all  1  can  say. 
What  do  you  say,  Ruth  ?  " 

Ruth  trifled  with  the  cherries  on  her  plate,  and  said  that 
she  thought  Mr.  Westlock  ought  to  be  quite  happy,  and  that 
she  had  no  doubt  he  was. 

Ah,  foolish,  panting,  frightened  little  heart,  how  timidly 
she  said  it ! 

"  But  you  are  forgetting  what  you  hnd  to  tell,  Tom  :  what 
occurred  this  morning,"  she  added  in  the  same  breath. 

"So  I  am,"  said  Tom.  "We  have  been  so  talkative  on 
other  topics,  that  I  declare  I  have  not  had  tim.e  to  think  of  it. 
I'll  tell  it  you  at  once,  John,  in  case  I  should  forget  it 
altogether." 

On  Tom's  relating  what  had  passed  upon  the  wharf,  his 
friend  was  very  much  surprised,  and  took  such  a  great  interest 
in  the  narrative  as  Tom  could  not  quite  understand.  He 
believed  he  knew  the  old  lady  whose  acquaintance  they  had 
made,  he  said  ;  and  that  he  might  venture  to  say,  from  their 
description  of  her,  that  her  name  was  Gamp.  But  of  what 
nature  the  communication  could  have  been  which  Tom  had 
borne  so  unexpectedly  ;  why  its  delivery  had  been  entrusted 
to  him  ;  how  it  happened  that  the  parties  were  involved  to- 
gether ;  and  what  secret  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair  ; 
perplexed  liim  very  much.  Tom  had  been  sure  of  his  taking 
some  interest  in  the  matter  ;  but  was  not  prepared  for  the 
strong  interest  he  showed.  It  held  John  Westlock  to  the 
subject,  even  after  Ruth  had  left  the  room  ;  and  evidently 
made  him  anxious  to  pursue  it  further  than  as  a  mere  subject 
of  conversation. 

"  I  shall  remonstrate  with  my  landlord,  of  course,"  said 
Tom  :  "  though  he  is  a  very  singular  secret  sort  of  man,  and 
not  likely  to  afford  me  much  satisfaction  ;  even  if  he  knew 
what  was  in  the  letter."  44 


690 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Which  you  may  swear  he  did,"  John  interposed. 

"  You  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  of  it." 

"  Well !  "  said  Tom,  "  I  shall  remonstrate  with  him  when 
I  see  him  (he  goes  in  and  out  in  a  strange  way,  but  I  will  try 
to  catch  him  to-morrow  morning),  on  his  having  asked  me  to 
execute  such  an  unpleasant  commission.  And  I  have  been 
thinking,  John,  that  if  I  went  down  to  Mrs.  What's-her-name's 
in  the  City,  where  I  was  before,  you  know — Mrs.  Todgers's — 
to-morrow  morning,  I  might  find  poor  Mercy  Pecksniff  there, 
perhaps,  and  be  able  to  explain  to  her  how  I  came  to  have  any 
hand  in  the  business." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  Tom,"  returned  his  friend,  after 
a  short  interval  of  reflection.  "  You  cannot  do  better.  It  is 
quite  clear  to  me  that  whatever  the  business  is,  there  is  little 
good  in  it ;  and  it  is  so  desirable  for  you  to  disentangle  your- 
self from  any  appearance  of  wilful  connection  with  it,  that  I 
would  counsel  you  to  see  her  husband,  if  you  can,  and  wash 
your  hands  of  it,  by  a  plain  statement  of  the  facts.  I  have  a 
misgiving  that  there  is  something  dark  at  work  here,  Tom.  I 
will  tell  you  why,  at  another  time  :  when  I  have  made  an  in- 
quiry or  two  myself." 

All  this  sounded  very  mysterious  to  Tom  Pinch.  But  as  he 
knew  he  could  rely  upon  his  friend,  he  resolved  to  follow  this 
advice. 

Ah,  but  it  would  have  been  a  good  thing  to  have  had  a 
coat  of  invisibility,  wherein  to  have  watched  little  Ruth,  when 
she  was  left  to  herself  in  John  Westlock's  chambers,  and 
John  and  her  brother  were  talking  thus,  over  their  wine  ! 
The  gentle  way  in  which  she  tried  to  get  up  a  little  conversa- 
tion with  the  fiery-faced  matron  in  the  crunched  bonnet,  who 
was  waiting  to  attend  her  ;  after  making  a  desperate  rally  in 
regard  of  her  dress,  and  attiring  herself  in  a  washed-out  yellow 
gown  with  sprigs  of  the  same  upon  it,  so  that  it  looked  like 
a  tesselated  work  of  pats  of  butter.  That  would  have  been 
pleasant.  The  grim  and  griffin-like  inflexibility  with  which  the 
fiery-faced  matron  repelled  these  engaging  advances,  as  pro- 
ceeding from  a  hostile  and  dangerous  power,  who  could  have 
no  business  there,  unless  it  were  to  deprive  her  of  a  customer, 
or  suggest  what  became  of  the  self-consuming  tea  and  sugar, 
and  other  general  trifles.  That  would  have  been  agreeable. 
The  bashful,  winning,  glorious  curiosity,  with  which  litde 
Ruth,  when  fiery-face  was  gone,  peeped  into  the  books  and 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  691 

nick-nacks  that  were  lying  about,  and  had  a  particular  inter- 
est in  some  delicate  paper  matches  on  the  chimney-piece  : 
wandering  who  could  have  made  them.  That  would  have 
been  worth  seeing.  The  faltering  hand  with  which  she  tied 
those  flowers  together  ;  with  which,  almost  blushing  at  her 
own  fair  self  as  imaged  in  the  glass,  she  arranged  them  in  her 
breast,  and  looking  at  them  with  her  head  aside,  now  half 
resolved  to  take  them  out  again,  now  half  resolved  to  leave 
them  where  they  were.     That  would  have  been  delightful  ! 

John  seemed  to  think  it  all  delightful  :  for  coming  in  v.ith 
Tom  to  tea,  he  took  his  seat  beside  her  like  a  man  enchanted. 
And  when  the  tea-service  had  been  removed,  and  Tom,  sitting 
down  at  the  piano,  became  absorbed  in  some  of  his  old  organ 
tunes,  he  was  still  beside  her  at  the  open  window,  looking  out 
upon  the  twilight. 

There  is  little  enough  to  see,  in  Furnival's  Inn.  It  is  a 
shady,  quiet  place,  echoing  to  the  footsteps  of  the  stragglers 
who  have  business  there  ;  and  rather  monotonous  and  gloomy 
on  summer  evenings.  What  gave  it  such  a  charm  to  them, 
that  they  remained  at  the  window  as  unconscious  of  the  flight 
of  time  as  Tom  himself,  the  dreamer,  while  the  melodies 
which  had  so  often  soothed  his  spirit  were  hovering  again  about 
him!  What  power  infused  into  the  fading  light,  the  gathering 
darkness  ;  the  stars  that  here  and  there  appeared  ;  the  even- 
ing air,  the  City's  hum  and  stir,  the  very  chiming  of  the  old 
church  clocks  ;  such  exquisite  enthralment,  that  the  divinest 
regions  of  the  earth  spread  out  before  their  eyes  could  not 
have  held  them  captive  in  a  stronger  chain  ? 

The  shadows  deepened,  deepened,  and  the  room  became 
quite  dark.  Still  Tom's  fingers  wandered  over  the  keys  of  the 
piano ;  and  still  the  window  had  its  pair  of  tenants. 

At  length,  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  her  breath 
upon  his  forehead,  roused  Tom  from  his  reverie. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  he  cried,  desisting  with  a  start.  "  I  am 
afraid  I  have  been  very  inconsiderate  and  unpolite." 

Tom  little  thought  how  much  consideration  and  politeness 
he  had  shown  ! 

"  Sing  something  to  us,  my  dear,"  said  Tom.  "  Let  us 
hear  your  voice.     Come." 

John  Westlock  added  his  entreaties  with  such  earnestness 
that  a  flinty  heart  alone  could  have  resisted  them.  Hers  was 
not  a  flinty  heart.     Oh  dear  no  !     Quite  another  thing. 

So  down  she  sat,  and  in  a  pleasant  voice  began  to  sing  the 


6 g 2  MAR  TIN  CHUZZL E  WIT. 

ballads  Tom  loved  well.  Old  rhyming  stories,  with  here  and 
there  a  pause  for  a  few  simple  chords,  such  as  a  harper  might 
have  sounded  in  the  ancient  time  while  looking  upward  for 
the  current  of  some  half-remembered  legend  ;  words  of  old 
poets,  wedded  to  such  measures  that  the  strain  of  music 
might  have  been  the  poet's  breath,  giving  utterance  and  ex- 
pression to  his  thoughts  ;  and  now  a  melody  so  joyous  and 
light-hearted,  that  the  singer  seemed  incapable  of  sadness, 
until  in  her  inconstancy  (oh  wicked  little  singer  !)  she  relapsed 
and  broke  the  listeners'  hearts  again  ;  these  were  the  simple 
means  she  used  to  please  them.  And  that  these  simple 
means  prevailed,  and  she  did  please  them,  let  the  still  dark- 
ened chamber,  and  its  long-deferred  illumination  witness. 

The  candles  came  at  last,  and  it  was  time  for  moving 
homeward.  Cutting  paper  carefully,  and  rolling  it  about  the 
stalks  of  those  same  flowers,  occasioned  some  delay  ;  but 
even  this  was  done  in  time,  and  Ruth  was  ready. 

"  Good  night  !  "  said  Tom.  "A  memorable  and  delight- 
ful visit,  John  !     Good  night !  " 

John  thought  he  would  walk  with  them. 

"  No,  no.  Don't !  "  said  Tom.  "  What  nonsense  !  We 
can  get  home  very  well  alone.  I  couldn't  think  of  taking  you 
out." 

But  John  said  he  would  rather. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  would  rather  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  I  am 
afraid  you  only  say  so  out  of  politeness." 

John  being  quite  sure,  gave  his  arm  to  Ruth,  and  led  her 
out.  Fiery-face,  who  was  again  in  attendance,  acknowledged 
her  departure  with  so  cold  a  curtsey  that  it  was  hardly  visible  ; 
and  cut  Tom,  dead. 

Their  host  was  bent  on  walking  the  whole  distance,  and 
would  not  listen  to  Tom's  dissuasions.  Happy  time,  happy 
walk,  happy  parting,  happy  dreams  !  But  there  are  some  sweet 
day-dreams,  so  there  are,  that  put  the  visions  of  the  night  to 
shame. 

Busily  the  Temple  fountain  murmured  in  the  moonlight, 
while  Ruth  lay  sleeping,  with  her  flowers  beside  her;  and 
John  Westlock  sketched  a  portrait— whose  ?— from  memory. 


MA  /?  T/jV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


693 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

JN  WHICH  MISS  PECKSNIFF  MAKES  LOVE,  MR.  JONAS  MAKES 
WRATH,  MRS.  GAMP  MAKES  TEA,  AND  MR.  CHUFFEY  MAKES 
BUSINESS. 

On  the  next  day's  ofificial  duties  coming  to  a  close,  Tom 
hurried  home  without  losing  any  time  by  the  way  ;  and  after 
dinner  and  a  short  rest,  sallied  out  again,  accompanied  by 
Ruth,  to  pay  his  projected  visit  to  Todgers's.  Tom  took 
Ruth  with  him,  not  only  because  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to 
him  to  have  her  for  his  companion  whenever  he  could,  but 
because  he  wished  her  to  cherish  and  comfort  poor  Merry ; 
which  she,  for  her  own  part  (having  heard  the  wretched  his- 
tory of  that  young  wife  from  Tom),  was  all  eagerness  to  do. 

"  She  was  so  glad  to  see  me,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  sure 
she  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Your  sympathy  is  certain  to  be 
much  more  delicate  and  acceptable  than  mine."' 

"  I  am  very  far  from  being  certain  of  that,  Tom,"  she  re- 
plied ;  "  and  indeed  you  do  yourself  an  injustice.  Indeed  you 
do.     But  I  hope  she  may  like  me,  Tom." 

"Oh,  she  is  sure  to  do  that !"  cried  Tom,  confidently. 

"  What  a  number  of  friends  I  should  have,  if  everybody 
was  of  your  way  of  thinking.  Shouldn't  I,  Tom,  dear  ?  "  said 
his  little  sister,  pinching  him  upon  the  cheek. 

Tom  laughed,  and  said  that  with  reference  to  this  particu- 
lar case  he  had  no  doubt  at  all  of  finding  a  disciple  in  Merry. 
"For  you  women,"  said  Tom,  "you  women,  my  dear,  are  so 
kind,  and  in  your  kindness  have  sucli  nice  perception ;  you 
know  so  well  how  to  be  affectionate  and  full  of  solicitude  with- 
out appearing  to  be ;  your  gentleness  of  feeling  is  like  your 
touch  :  so  light  and  easy,  that  the  one  enables  you  to  deal  with 
wounds  of  the  mind  as  tenderly  as  the  other  enables  you  to 
deal  with  wounds  of  the  body.     You  are  such " 

"  My  goodness,  Tom  !  "  his  sister  interposed.  "  You  ought 
to  fall  in  love  immediately." 

Tom  put  this  observation  off  good  humoredly,  but  some- 
what gravely  too  ;  and  they  were  soon  very  chatty  again  on 
some  other  subject. 

As  they  were  passing  through  a  street  in  the  City,  not  very 


694  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

far  from  Mrs.  Todgers's  place  of  residence,  Ruth  checked  Tom 
before  a  window  of  a  large  Upholstery  and  Furniture  Ware- 
house, to  call  his  attention  to  something  very  magnificent  and 
ingenious,  displayed  there  to  the  best  advantage,  for  the  ad- 
miration and  temptation  of  the  public.  Tom  had  hazarded 
some  most  erroneous  and  extravagantly  wrong  guess  in  rela- 
tion to  the  price  of  this  article,  and  had  joined  his  sister  in 
laughing  heartily  at  his  mistake,  when  he  pressed  her  arm  in 
his,  and  pointed  to  two  persons  at  a  little  distance,  who  were 
looking  in  at  the  same  window  with  a  deep  interest  in  the 
chests  of  drawers  and  tables. 

"  Hush  !  "  Tom  whispered.  "  Miss  Pecksniff,  and  the  young 
gentleman  to  whom  she  is  going  to  be  married." 

"  Why  does  he  look  as  if  he  was  going  to  be  buried,  Tom  }  " 
inquired  his  little  sister. 

"Why,  he  is  naturally  a  dismal  young  gentleman,  I  be- 
lieve,"' said  Tom  :   "  but  he  is  very  civil  and  inoffensive." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  furnishing  their  house,"  whispered 
Ruth. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  they  are,"  replied  Tom.  "  We  had  bet- 
ter avoid  speaking  to  them." 

They  could  not  ver}'  well  avoid  looking  at  them,  however, 
especially  as  some  obstruction  on  the  pavement,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, happened  to  detain  them  where  they  were  for  a  few 
moments.  Miss  Pecksniff  had  quite  the  air  of  having  taken 
the  unhappy  Moddle  captive,  and  brought  him  up  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  furniture  like  a  lamb  to  the  altar.  He  of- 
fered no  resistance,  but  was  perfectly  resigned  and  quiet.  The 
melancholy  depicted  in  the  turn  of  his  languishing  head,  and 
in  his  dejected  attitude,  was  extreme  ;  and  though  there  was 
a  full-sized  four-post  bedstead  in  the  window,  such  a  tear  stood 
trembling  in  his  eye,  as  seemed  to  blot  it  out. 

"Augustus,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  ask  the  price 
of  the  eight  rose-wood  chairs,  and  the  loo  table." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  ordered  already,"  said  Augustus.  "  Per- 
haps they  are  Another's." 

"  They  can  make  more  like  them,  if  they  are,"  rejoined 
Miss  Pecksniff. 

"  No,  no,  they  can't,"  said  Moddle.     "  It's  impossible  !  " 

He  appeared  for  a  moment,  to  be  quite  overwhelmed  and 
stupefied  by  the  prospect  of  his  approaching  happiness  ;  but 
recovering,  entered  the  shop.  He  returned  immediately  : 
saying  in  a  tone  of  despair  : 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT  695 

"  Twenty-four  pound  ten  !  " 

Miss  Pecksniff,  turning  to  receive  this  announcement,  be- 
came conscious  of  the  observation  of  Tom  Pinch  and  his 
sister. 

"  Oh,  really  !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  glancing  about  her,  as 
if  for  some  convenient  means  of  sinking  into  the  earth. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I — there  never  was  such  a — to  think  that 
one  should  be  so  very — Mr.  Augustus  Moddle,  Miss  Pinch  !" 

Miss  Pecksniff  was  quite  gracious  to  Miss  Pinch  in  this 
triumphant  introduction  ;  exceedingly  gracious.  She  was 
more  than  gracious  ;  she  was  kind  and  cordial.  Whether  the 
recollection  of  the  old  service  Tom  had  rendered  her  in  knock- 
ing Mr.  Jonas  on  the  head,  had  wrought  this  change  in  her 
opinions  ;  or  whether  her  separation  from  her  parent  had  rec- 
onciled her  to  all  human-kind,  or  to  all  that  increasing  por- 
tion of  human-kind  which  was  not  friendly  to  him  ;  or  whether 
the  delight  of  having  some  new  female  acquaintance  to  whom 
to  communicate  her  intersting  prospects,  was  paramount  to 
every  other  consideration  ;  cordial  and  kind  Miss  Pecksniff 
was.  And  twice  Miss  Pecksniff  kissed  Miss  Pinch  upon  the 
cheek. 

"  Augustus — Mr.  Pinch,  you  know.  My  dear  girl  !  "  said 
Miss  Pecksniff,  aside.     "  I  never  was  so  ashamed  in  my  life." 

Ruth  begged  her  not  to  think  of  it. 

"  I  mind  your  brother  less  than  anybody  else,"  simpered 
Miss  Pecksniff.  "  But  the  indelicacy  of  meeting  any  gentle- 
man under  such  circumstances  !  Augustus,  my  child,  did 
you " 

Here  Miss  Pecksniff  whispered  in  his  ear.  The  suffering 
Moddle  repeated  : 

"  Twenty-four  pound  ten  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  silly  man  !  I  don't  mean  them,"  said  Miss 
Pecksniff,     "  I  am  speaking  of  the " 

Here  she  whispered  him  again. 

"  If  it's  the  same  patterned  chintz  as  that  in  the  window  ; 
thirty-two,  twelve,  six,"  said  Moddle,  with  a  sigh.  "And  very 
dear." 

Miss  Pecksniff  stopped  him  from  giving  any  further  expla- 
nation by  laying  her  hand  upon  his  lips,  and  betraying  a  soft 
embarrassment.  She  then  asked  Tom  Pinch  which  way  he 
was  going. 

"  I  was  going  to  see  if  T  could  find  your  sister."  answered 
Tom,  "  to  whom  I  wished  to  say  a  few  words.     We  were  go- 


696 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


ing  to  Mrs.  Todgers's,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her 
before." 

"  It's  of  no  use  your  going  on,  then,"  said  Cherr)%  "  for  we 
have  not  long  left  there  ;  and  I  know  she  is  not  at  home. 
But  I'll  take  you  to  my  sister's  house,  if  you  please.  Augus- 
tus— Mr.  Moddle,  I  mean — and  myself,  are  on  our  way  to 
tea  there,  now.  You  needn't  think  of  /;/;«,"  she  added,  nod- 
ding her  head,  as  she  observed  some  hesitation  on  Tom's 
part.     "  He  is  not  at  home." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that.  I  don't  want  any  more  re- 
venge," said  Miss  Pecksniff,  expressively.  "  But,  really,  I 
must  beg  you  two  gentlemen  to  walk  on,  and  allow  me  to  fol- 
low with  Miss  Pinch.  My  dear,  I  never  was  so  taken  by  sur- 
prise !  " 

In  furtherance  of  this  bashful  arrangement,  Moddle  ga:e 
his  arm  to  Tom  ;  and  Miss  Pecksniff  linked  her  own  in 
Ruth's. 

"  Of  course,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  it  would  be 
useless  for  me  to  disguise,  after  what  you  have  seen,  that  I 
am  about  to  be  united  to  the  gentleman  who  is  walking  with 
your  brother.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  conceal  it.  What  do 
you  think  of  him  ?     Pray,  let  me  have  your  candid  opinion." 

Ruth  intimated  that,  as  far  as  she  could  judge,  he  was  a 
very  eligible  swain. 

"  I  am  curious  to  know,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff',  with  lo- 
quacious frankness,  "  whether  you  have  observed,  or  fancied, 
in  this  ver}'  short  space  of  time,  that  he  is  of  a  rather  melan- 
choly turn  ?  " 

"  So  very  short  a  time,"   Ruth  pleaded. 

"  No,  no ;  but  don't  let  that  interfere  with  your  answer," 
returned  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  I  am  curious  to  hear  what  you 
say." 

Ruth  acknowledged  that  he  had  impressed  her  at  first 
sight  as  looking  "  rather  low." 

"  No,  really".'  "  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  Well !  that  is  quite 
remarkable  !  Everybody  says  the  same.  Mrs.  Todgers  says 
the  same ;  and  Augustus  informs  me  that  it  is  quite  a  joke 
among  the  gentlemen  in  the  house.  Indeed,  but  for  the  pos- 
itive commands  I  have  laid  upon  him,  I  believe  it  would  have 
been  the  occasion  of  loaded  fire-arms  being  resorted  to  more 
than  once.  What  do  you  think  is  the  cause  of  his  appearance 
of  depression  ? " 


MARTIN  CIICZZLEVVIT.  ■  697 

Ruth  thought  of  several  things  ;  such  as  his  digestion,  his 
tailor,  his  mother,  and  the  like.  But  hesitating  to  give  utter- 
ance to  any  one. of  them,  she  refrained  from  expressing  an 
opinion. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff  ;  "  I  shouldn't  wish  it  to 
be  known,  but  I  don't  mind  mentioning  it  to  you,  having  known 
your  brother  for  so  many  years — I  refused  Augustus  three 
times.  He  is  of  a  most  amiable  and  sensiti\e  nature  ;  always 
ready  to  shed  tears,  if  you  look  at  him,  which  is  extremely 
charmin";  ;  and  he  has  never  recovered  the  effect  of  that  crueltv. 
For  it  was  cruel,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  a  self-convicting 
candor  that  might  have  adorned  the  diadem  of  her  own  papa. 
"  There  is  no  doubt  of  it.  I  look  back  upon  my  conduct  now 
with  blushes.  1  always  liked  him.  I  felt  that  he  was  not  to 
me  what  the  crowd  of  young  men  who  had  made  proposals  had 
been,  but  something  ver)-  different.  Then  what  right  had  I  to 
refuse  him  three  times  .''  " 

"  It  was  a  severe  trial  of  his  fidelity,  no  doubt,"  said  Ruth. 
"  My  dear,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff".  ''  It  was  wrong. 
But  such  is  the  caprice  and  thoughtlessness  of  our  sex  !  Let 
me  be  a  warning  to  you.  Don't  tr)'  the  feelings  of  any  one 
who  makes  you  an  offer,  as  I  have  tried  the  feelings  of  Augus- 
tus ;  but  if  you  ever  feel  towards  a  person  as  I  really  felt  to- 
wards him,  at  the  \&x\  time  when  I  was  dri\-ing  him  to  dis- 
traction, let  that  feeling  find  expression,  if  that  person  throws 
himself  at  your  feet,  as  Augustus  Moddle  did  at  mine.  Think," 
said  Miss  Pecksniff",  "  what  my  feelings  would  have  been,  if  I 
had  goaded  him  to  suicide,  and  it  had  got  into  the  papers  !" 

Ruth  observed  that  she  would  have  been  full  of  remorse, 
no  doubt. 

"  Remorse  !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  in  a  sort  of  snug  and 
comfortable  penitence.  "What  my  remorse  is  at  this  moment, 
even  after  making  reparation  by  accepting  him,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  tell  you  !  Looking  back  upon  my  giddy  self,  my 
dear,  now  that  I  am  sobered  down  and  made  thoughtful,  by 
treading  on  the  ver}'  brink  of  matrimony  ;  and  contemplating 
myself  as  I  was  when  I  was  like  you  are  now  ;  I  shudder.  I 
shudder.  What  is  the  consequence  of  my  past  conduct  ? 
Until  Augustus  leads  me  to  the  altar,  he  is  not  sure  of  me.  I 
have  blighted  and  withered  the  affections  of  his  heart  to  that 
extent  that  he  is  not  sure  of  me.  I  see  that  preying  on  his 
mind  and  feeding  on  his  vitals.  What  are  the  reproaches  of 
my  conscience,  when  I  see  this  in  the  man  I  love  !  " 


698  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Ruth  endeavored  to  express  some  sense  of  her  unbounded 
and  flattering  confidence  ;  and  presumed  that  she  was  going 
to  be  married  soon. 

"  Very  soon  indeed,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  As  soon 
as  our  house  is  ready.  We  are  furnishing  now  as  fast  as  we 
can." 

In  the  same  vein  of  confidence,  Miss  Pecksniff  ran  through 
a  general  inventory  of  the  articles  that  were  already  bought, 
with  the  articles  that  remained  to  be  purchased  ;  what  gar- 
ments she  intended  to  be  married  in,  and  where  the  ceremony 
was  to  be  performed  ;  and  gave  Miss  Pinch,  in  short  (as  she 
told  her),  early  and  exclusive  information  on  all  points  of  in- 
terest connected  with  the  event. 

While  this  was  going  forward  in  the  rear,  Tom  and  Mr. 
Moddle  walked  on,  arm  in  arm,  in  the  front,  in  a  state  of 
profound  silence,  which  Tom  at  last  broke  :  after  thinking  for 
a  long  time  what  he  could  say  that  should  refer  to  an  indiffer- 
ent topic,  in  respect  of  which  he  might  rely,  with  some  degree 
of  certainty,  on  Mr.  Moddle's  bosom  being  unruffled. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Tom,  "  that  in  these  crowded  streets, 
the  foot-passengers  are  not  oftener  run  over." 

Mr.  Moddle,  with  a  dark  look,  replied  : 

"The  drivers  won't  do  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  1  "     Tom  began — 

"That  there  are  some  men,"  interrupted  Moddle,  with  a 
hollow  laugh,  "  who  can't  get  run  over.  They  live  a  charmed 
life.  Coal  wagons  recoil  from  them,  and  even  cabs  refuse 
to  run  them  down.  Ah  !  "  said  Augustus,  marking  Tom's  as- 
tonishment. "  There  are  such  men.  One  of  'em  is  a  friend  of 
mine." 

"  Upon  my  word  and  honor,"  thought  Tom,  "this  )'oung 
gentleman  is  in  a  state  of  mind  which  is  very  serious  indeed  !  " 
Abandoning  all  idea  of  conversation,  he  did  not  venture  to 
say  another  word  ;  but  he  Avas  careful  to  keep  a  tight  hold 
upon  Augustus's  arm,  lest  he  should  fly  into  the  road,  and 
making  another,  and  a  more  successful  attempt,  should  get  up 
a  private  little  Juggernaut  before  the  eyes  of  his  betrothed. 
Tom  was  so  afraid  of  his  committing  this  rash  act,  that  he  had 
scarcely  ever  experienced  such  mental  relief  as  when  they  ar- 
rived in  safety  at  Mrs.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  house. 

"  Walk  up,  pray,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff :  for 
Tom  halted,  irresolutely,  at  the  door. 

"  I  am  doubtful  whether  I   should  be  welcome,"  replied 


MARTIN  C NUZZLE  WIT.  699 

Tom,  "  or,  I  ought  rather  to  say,  I  have  no  doubt  about  it.  I 
will  send  up  a  message,  I  think." 

"  But  what  nonsense  that  is  !  "  returned  Miss  Pecksniff, 
speaking  apart  to  Tom.  "  He  is  not  at  home,  I  am  certain  ; 
I  know  he  is  not ;  but  Merry  hasn't  the  least  idea  that  you 
ever " 

"No,"  interrupted  Tom.  "  Nor  would  I  have  her  know 
it,  on  any  account.  I  am  not  so  proud  of  that  scuffle,  I  assure 
you." 

"  Ah,  but  then  3-ou  are  so  modest,  you  see,"  returned  Miss 
Pecksniff,  with  a  smile.  "  But  pray  walk  up.  If  you  don't 
wish  her  to  know  it,  and  do  wish  to  speak  to  her,  pray  walk 
up.     Pray  walk  up.  Miss  Pinch.     Don't  stand  here." 

Tom  still  hesitated  ;  for  he  felt  that  he  was  in  an  aw^kward 
position.  But  Cherry  passing  him  at  this  juncture,  and  lead- 
ing his  sister  up  stairs,'  and  the  house-door  being  at  the  same 
time  shut  behind  them,  he  follow^ed  without  quite  knowing 
whether  it  was  well  or  ill-judged  so  to  do. 

"  Merry,  my  darling !  "  said  the  fair  Miss  Pecksniff,  open- 
ing the  door  of  the  usual  sitting-room.  "  Here  are  Mr.  Pinch 
and  his  sister  come  to  see  you  !  I  thought  we  should  find 
you  here,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  And 
how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Chuffey,  though  it's  of  no  use  asking  you 
the  question,  I  am  well  aware." 

Honoring  each  of  these  parties,  as  she  severally  addressed 
them,  with  an  acid  smile.  Miss  Charity  presented  Mr.  Moddle. 

"  I  believe  you  have  seen  hi}?i  before,"  she  pleasantly  ob- 
served.     'Augustus,  my  sweet  child,  bring  me  a  chair." 

The  sweet  child  did  as  he  was  told  ;  and  was  then  about 
to  retire  into  a  corner  to  mourn  in  secret,  when  Miss  Charity, 
calling  him  in  an  audible  whisper  "  a  little  pet,"  gave  him 
leave  to  come  and  sit  beside  her.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  for  the 
general  cheerfulness  of  mankind,  that  such  a  doleful  little  pet 
was  never  seen  as  Mr.  Moddle  looked  when  he  complied.  So 
despondent  was  his  temper,  that  he  showed  no  outward  thrill 
of  ecstasy,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  placed  her  lily  hand  in  his, 
and  concealed  this  mark  of  her  favor  from  the  vulgar  gaze, 
by  covering  it  with  a  corner  of  her  shawl.  Indeed,  he  was 
infinitely  more  rueful  then  than  he  had  been  before  ;  and, 
sitting  uncomfortably  uprii^ht  in  his  chair,  surveyed  the  com- 
pany with  watery  eyes,  which  seemed  to  sa}^,  without  the  aid 
of  language,  "  Oh,  good  gracious  !  look  here  !  Won't  some 
kind  Christian  help  me  !  " 


700 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


But  the  ecstasies  of  Mrs.  Gamp  were  sufficient  to  have  fur- 
nished forth  a  score  of  young  lovers  ;  and  they  were  chiefly 
awakened  by  the  sight  of  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister.  Mrs. 
Gamp  was  a  lady  of  that  happy  temperament  which  can  be 
ecstatic  without  any  other  stimulating  cause  than  a  general 
desire  to  establish  a  large  and  profitable  connection.  She 
added  daily  so  many  strings  to  her  bow,  that  she  made  a  per- 
fect harp  of  it ;  and  upon  that  instrument  she  now  began  to 
perform  an  extemporaneous  concerto. 

"  Why,  goodness  me  !  "  she  said,  "  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit !  To 
think  as  I  should  see  beneath  this  blessed  ouse,  which  well  I 
know  it,  Miss  Pecksniff,  my  sweet  young  lady,  to  be  a  ouse 
as  there  is  not  a  many  like,  worse  luck,  and  wishin'  it  ware 
not  so,  which  then  this  tearful  walley  would  be  changed  into 
a  fiowerin'  guardian,  Mr.  Chuffey  ;  to  think  as  I  should  see 
beneath  this  indiwidgle  roof,  identically  comin',  Mr.  Pinch  (I 
take  the  liberty,  though  almost  unbeknown),  and  do  assure 
you  of  it,  sir,  the  smilinest  and  sweetest  face  as  ever,  Mrs. 
Chuzzlewit,  I  see,  exceptin'  yourn,  my  dear  good  lady,  and 
your  good  lady's  too,  sir,  Mr.  Moddle,  if  I  may  make  so  bold 
as  speak  so  plain  of  what  is  plain  enough  to  them  as  needn't 
look  through  millstones,  Mrs.  Todgers,  to  find  out  wot  is 
wrote  upon  the  wall  behind.  Which  no  offence  is  meant, 
ladies  and  gentlemen  ;  none  bein'  took,  I  hope.  To  think  as 
I  should  see  that  smilinest  and  sweetest  face  which  me  and 
another  friend  of  mine,  took  notige  of  among  the  packages 
down  London  Bridge,  in  this  promiscous  place,  is  a  surprige 
in-deed  !  " 

Having  contrived,  in  this  happy  manner,  to  invest  every 
member  of  her  audience  with  an  individual  share  and  imme- 
diate personal  interest  in  her  address,  Mrs.  Gamp  dropped 
several  curtseys  to  Ruth,  and  smilingly  shaking  her  head  a 
great  many  times,  pursued  the  thread  of  her  discourse  : 

"  Now,  ain't  we  rich  in  beauty  this  here  joyful  arternoon, 
I'm  sure.  I  knows  a  lady,  which  her  name,  I'll  not  deceive 
you,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  is  Harris,  her  husband's  brother  bein' 
six  foot  three,  and  marked  with  a  mad  bull  in  Wellington 
boots  upon  his  left  arm,  on  account  of  his  precious  mother 
haviii'  been  worrited  by  one  into  a  shoemaker's  shop,  when 
in  a  sitiwation  which  blessed  is  the  man  as  has  his  quiver  full 
of  sech,  as  many  times  I've  said  to  Gamp  when  words  has 
roge  betwixt  us  on  account  of  the  expense — and  often  have  I 
said  to  Mrs.  Harris,  'Oh,  Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am  !  your  counte- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  70I 

nance  is  quite  a  angel's  !  '  Which,  but  for  Pimples,  it  would 
be.  'No,  Sairey  Gamp,'  says  she,  'you  best  of  hard-working 
and  industrious  creeturs  as  ever  was  underpaid  at  any  price, 
which  underpaid  you  are,  quite  diff  'rent.  Harris  had  it  done 
afore  marriage  at  ten  and  six,'  she  says,  '  and  wore  it  faith- 
ful next  his  heart  'till  the  color  run,  when  the  money  was 
declined  to  be  give  back,  and  no  arrangement  could  be  come 
to.  But  he  never  said  it  was  a  angel's,  Sairey,  wotever  he 
might  have  thought.'  If  Mrs.  Harris's  husband  was  here 
now,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  looking  round,  and  chuckling  as  slie 
dropped  a  general  curtsey,  "  heVl  speak  out  plain,  he  would, 
and  his  dear  wife  would  be  the  last  to  blame  him  !  For  il 
ever  a  woman  lived  as  know'd  not  wot  it  was  to  form  a  wish 
to  pizon  them  as  had  good  looks,  and  had  no  reagion  give 
her  by  the  best  of  husbands,  Mrs.  Harris  is  that  ev'niy  dis- 
pogician  !  " 

With  these  words  the  worthy  woman,  who  appeared  to 
have  dropped  in  to  take  tea  as  a  delicate  little  attendon, 
rather  than  to  have  any  engagement  on  the  premises  in  an 
official  capacity,  crossed  to  Mr.  Chuffey,  who  was  seated  in 
the  same  corner  as  of  old,  and  shook  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Rouge  yourself,  and  look  up  !  Come  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Gamp.     "  Here's  company,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  humbly 
round  the  room.  "  I  know  I'm  in  the  way.  I  ask  pardon, 
but  I've  nowhere  else  to  go  to.     Where  is  she  ?  " 

Merry  went  to  him. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  old  man,  patting  her  on  the  cheek. 
"  Here  she  is.  Here  she  is  !  She's  never  hard  on  poor  old 
Chuffey.     Poor  old  Chuff  !  " 

As  she  took  her  seat  upon  a  low  chair  by  the  old  man's 
side,  and  put  herself  within  the  reach  of  his  hand,  she  looked 
up  once  at  Tom.  It  was  a  sad  look  that  she  cast  upon  him, 
though  there  was  a  faint  smile  trembling  on  her  face.  It  was 
a  speaking  look,  and  Tom  knew  what  it  said.  "  You  see 
how  misery  has  changed  me.  I  can  feel  for  a  dependant  nota, 
and  set  some  value  on  his  attachment." 

"  Ay,  ay  !  "  cried  Chuffey  in  a  soothing  tone.  "  Ay,  ay, 
ay  !  Never  mind  him.  It's  hard  to  bear,  but  never  mind 
him.  He'll  die  one  day.  There  are  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  days  in  the  year — three  hundred  and  sixty-six  in  leap 
year — and  he  may  die  on  nnv  one  of  'em." 

"  You're  a  wearing  old  soul,  and  that's  the  sacred  truth,'' 


702 


AIA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  ElVIT. 


said  Mrs.  Gamp,  contemplating  him  from  a  little  distance 
with  anything  but  favor,  as  he  continued  to  mutter  to  himself. 
"  It's  a  pity  that  you  don't  know  wot  you  say,  for  you'd  tire 
your  own  patience  out  if  you  did,  and  fret  yourself  into  a 
happy  releage  for  all  as  knows  you." 

"  His  son,"  murmured  the  old  man  lifting  up  his  hand. 
"  His  son  !  " 

"Well  I'm  sure  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "you're  a  settlin'  of 
it,  Mr.  Chuffey.  To  your  satigefaction,  sir,  I  hope.  But  I 
wouldn't  lay  a  new  pin-cushion  on  it  myself,  sir,  though  you 
are  so  well  informed.  Drat  the  old  creetur,  he's  a  layin' 
down  the  law  tolerable  confident,  too  !  A  deal  he  knows  of 
sons !  Or  darters  either  !  Suppose  you  was  to  favor  us  with 
some  remarks  on  twins,  sir,  would  you  be  so  good  !  " 

The  bitter  and  indignant  sarcasm  which  Mrs.  Gamp  con- 
veyed into  these  taunts  was  altogether  lost  on  the  uncon- 
scious Chuffey,  who  appeared  to  be  as  little  cognizant  of  their 
delivery  as  of  his  having  given  Mrs.  Gamp  offence.  But  that 
high-minded  woman  being  sensitively  alive  to  any  invasion  of 
her  professional  province,  and  imagining  that  Mr.  Chuffey 
had  given  utterance  to  some  prediction  on  the  subject  of 
sons,  which  ought  to  have  emanated  in  the  first  instance  from 
herself  as  the  only  lawful  authority,  or  which  should  at  least 
have  been  on  no  account  proclaimed  without  her  sanction  and 
concurrence,  was  not  so  easily  appeased.  ■  She  continued  to 
sidle  at  Mr.  Chuffey  with  looks  of  sharp  hostility,  and  to  defy 
him  with  many  other  ironical  remarks,  uttered  in  that  low 
key  which  commonly  denotes  suppressed  indignation  ;  until 
the  entrance  of  the  tea-board,  and  a  request  from  Mrs.  Jonas 
that  she  would  make  tea  at  a  side-table  for  the  party  that  had 
unexpectedly  assembled,  restored  her  to  herself.  She  smiled 
again,  and  entered  on  her  ministration  with  her  own  particular 
urbanity. 

"And  quite  a  family  it  is  to  make  tea  for,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp ;  "  and  wot  a  happiness  to  do  it  !  My  good  young 
'ooman  " — to  the  servant-girl — "  p'raps  somebody  would  like 
to  try  a  new-laid  egg  or  two,  not  biled  too  hard.  Likeways, 
a  few  rounds  o'  buttered  toast,  first  cuttin'  off  the  crust,  in 
consequence  of  tender  teeth,  and  not  too  many  of  'em  ;  which 
Gamp  himself,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  at  one  blow,  being  in  liquor, 
struck  out  four,  two  single,  and  two  double,  as  was  took  by 
Mrs.  Harris  for  a  keepsake,  and  is  carried  in  her  pocket  at 
this  present  hour,  along  with  two  cramp-bones,  a  bit  o'  ginger, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


703 


and  a  grater  like  a  blessed  infant's  shoe,  in  tin_^  with  a 
little  heel  to  put  the  nutmeg  in ;  as  many  times  I've  seen  and 
said,  and  used  for  caudle  when  required,  within  the  month." 

As  the  privileges  of  the  side-table — besides  including  the 
small  prerogatives  of  sitting  next  the  toast,  and  taking  two 
cups  of  tea  to  other  people's  one,  and  always  taking  them 
at  a  crisis,  that  is  to  say,  before  putting  fresh  water  into  the 
tea-pot,  and  after  it  had  been  standing  for  some  time — 
also  comprehended  a  full  view  of  the  company,  and  an  oppor- 
tunity of  addressing  them  as  from  a  rostrum,  Mrs.  Gamp  dis- 
charged the  functions  entrusted  to  her  with  extreme  good-humor 
and  affability.  Sometimes,  resting  her  saucer  on  the  palm  of 
her  outspread  hand,  and  supporting  her  elbow  on  the  table, 
she  stopped  between  her  sips  of  tea  to  favor  the  circle  with  a 
smile,  a  wink,  a  roll  of  the  head,  or  some  other  mark  of  notices 
and  at  those  periods,  her  countenance  was  lighted  up  with  a 
degree  of  intelligence  and  vivacity,  which  it  was  almost  im- 
possible to  separate  from  the  benignant  influence  of  distilled 
waters. 

But  for  Mrs.  Gamp,  it  would  have  been  a  curiously  silent 
party.  Miss  Pecksniff  only  spoke  to  her  Augustus,  and  to 
him  in  whispers.  Augustus  spoke  to  nobody,  but  sighed  for 
every  one,  and  occasionally  gave  himself  such  a  sounding  slap 
upon  the  forehead  as  would  make  Mrs.  Todgers,  who  was 
rather  nervous,  start  in  her  chair  with  an  involuntarv  excla- 
mation.  Mrs.  Todgers  was  occupied  in  knitting,  and  seldom 
spoke.  Poor  Merry  held  the  hand  of  cheerful  little  Ruth  be- 
tween her  own,  and  listening  with  evident  pleasure  to  all  she 
said,  but  rarely  speaking  herself,  sometimes  smiled,  and  some- 
times kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  and  sometimes  turned  aside  to 
hide  the  tears  that  trembled  in  her  eyes.  Tom  felt  this  change 
in  her  so  much,  and  was  so  glad  to  see  how  tenderly  Ruth 
dealt  with  her,  and  how  she  knew  and  answered  to  it,  that  he 
had  not  the  heart  to  make  any  movement  towards  their  de- 
parture, although  he  had  long  since  given  utterance  to  all  he 
came  to  say. 

The  old  clerk,  subsiding  into  his  usual  state,  remained  pro- 
foundly silent,  while  the  rest  of  the  little  assembly  were  thus 
occupied,  intent  upon  the  dreams,  whatever  they  might  be, 
which  hardly  seemed  to  stir  the  surface  of  his  sluggish 
thoughts.  The  bent  of  these,  dull  fancies  combining  probably 
with  the  silent  feasting  that  was  going  on  about  him,  and 
some  struggling  recollection  of  the   last  approach  to  revelry 


704  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

he  had  witnessed,  suggested  a  strange  question  to  his  mind. 
He  looked  round  upon  a  sudden,  and  said, 

"  Who's  lying  dead  up  stairs  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  said  Merry,  turning  to  him.  "What  is  the 
matter  ?     We  are  all  here." 

"  All  here  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  "  all  here  !  Where  is  he 
then — my  old  master,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  who  had  the  only  son  .'' 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  Hush  !  "  said  Merr}'^,  speaking  kindly  to  him. 
"  That  happened  long  ago.     Don't  you  recollect  ?  " 

"  Recollect  !  "  rejoined  the  old  man,  with  a  cry  of  grief, 
"as  if  I  could  forget !     As  if  I  ever  could  forget !  " 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  face  for  a  moment ;  and  then 
repeated,  turning  round  exactly  as  before. 

"  Who's  lying  dead  up  stairs  .''  " 

"  No  one  !  "  said  Meny. 

At  first  he  gazed  angrily  upon  her,  as  upon  a  stranger  who 
endeavored  to  deceive  him  ;  but,  peering  into  her  face,  and 
seeing  that  it  was  indeed  she,  he  shook  his  head  in  sorrowful 
compassion. 

"  You  think  not.  But  they  don't  tell  you.  No,  no,  poor 
thing  !  They  don't  tell  you.  Who  are  these,  and  why  are 
they  merry-making  here,  if  there  is  no  one  dead  ?  Foul  play  ! 
Go  see  who  it  is  !  " 

She  made  a  sign  to  them  not  to  speak  to  him,  which  in- 
deed they  had  little  inclination  to  do ;  and  remained  silent 
herself.  So  did  he  for  a  short  time  ;  but  then  he  repeated 
the  same  question  with  an  eagerness  that  had  a  peculiar  terror 
in  it. 

"There's  some  one  dead,"  he  said,  "or  dying;  and  I  want 
to  know  who  it  is.     Go  see,  go  see  !     Where's  Jonas .''  " 

"  In  the  country,"  she  replied. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  her  as  if  he  doubted  what  she  said,  or 
had  not  heard  her  ;  and,  rising  from  his  chair,  walked  across 
the  room  and  up  stairs  whispering  as  he  went,  "  P'oul 
play  !  "  They  heard  his  footsteps  overhead,  going  up  into 
that  corner  of  the  room  in  which  the  bed  stood  (itwas  there 
old  Anthony  had  died)  ;  and  then  they  heard  him  coming  down 
again  immediately.  His  fancv  was  not  so  strong  or  wild  that 
it  pictured  to  him  anvthing  in  the  deserted  bed-chamber  which 
was  not  there  ;  for  he  returned  much  calmer,  and  appeared 
to  have  satisfied  himself. 

"  They  don't  tell  you,"  he  said  to  Merry  in  his  quavering 


MA  R  TIN  CIIUZZLE  WIT. 


705 


voice,  as  he  sat  down  again,  and  patted  her  upon  the  head. 
"They  don't  tell  me  either;  but  I'll  watch,  I'll  watch.  They 
shall  not  hurt  you  •  don't  be  frightened.  When  you  have  sat 
up  watching,  I  have  sat  up  watching  too.  Ay,  ay,  I  have !  " 
he  piped  out,  clenching  his  weak^  shrivelled  hand.  "  Many 
a  night  I  ha\^e  been  ready  !  " 

He  said  this  with  such  trembling  gaps  and  pauses  in  his 
want  of  breath,  and  said  it  in  his  jealous  secrecy  so  closely 
in  her  ear,  that  little  or  nothing  of  it  was  understood  by  the 
visitors.  But  they  had  heard  and  seen  enough  of  the  old 
man  to  be  disquieted,  and  to  have  left  their  seats  and  gathered 
about  him  ;  thereby  affording  Mrs.  Gamp,  whose  professional 
coolness  was  not  so  easily  disturbed,  an  eligible  opportunity 
for  concentrating  the  whole  resources  of  her  powerful  mind 
and  appetite  upon  the  toast  and  butter,  tea  and  eggs.  She 
had  brought  them  to  bear  upon  those  viands  with  such  vigor 
that  her  face  was  in  the  highest  state  of  inflammation,  when  she 
now  (there  being  nothing  left  to  eat  or  drink)  saw  fit  to  inter- 
pose. 

"  Why,  highty  tighty,  sir  !  "  cries  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  tiiese 
your  manners  ?  You  want  a  pitcher  of  cold  water  throw'd 
over  you  to  bring  you  around  ;  that's  my  belief ;  and  if  you 
was  under  Betsy  Prig  you'd  have  it,  too,  I  do  assure  you,  Mr. 
Chuffey.  Spanish  Flies  is  the  only  thing  to  draw  this  non- 
sense out  of  you  ;  and  if  anybody  wanted  to  do  you  a  kind- 
ness, they'd  clap  a  blister  of  'em  on  your  head,  and  put  a 
mustard  poultige  on  your  back.  Who's  dead,  indeed  !  It 
wouldn't  be  no  grievous  loss  if  some  one  was,  I  think  !  " 

"  He's  quiet  now,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Merry.  "  Don't  dis- 
turb him." 

"Oh,  bother  the  old  wictim,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,"  replied 
that  zealous  lady,  "  I  ain't  no  patience  with  him.  You  give 
him  his  own  way  too  much  by  half.  A  worritin'  wexagious 
creetur  !  " 

No  doubt  with  the  view  of  carrj-ing  out  the  precepts  she 
enforced,  and  "bothering  the  old  wictim  "  in  practice  as  well 
as  in  theory,  Mrs.  Gamp  took  him  by  the  collar  of  his  coat, 
and  gave  him  some  dozen  or  two  of  hearty  shakes  backward 
and  forward  in  his  chair  ;  that  exercise  being  considered  by 
the  disciples  of  the  Prig  school  of  nursing  (who  are  very 
numerous  among  professional, ladies)  as  exceedingly  condu- 
cive to  repose,  and  highly  beneficial  to  the  performance  of  the 
nervous  functions.     Its  effect  in  this  instance   was  to  render 

45 


7o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

the  patient  so  giddy  and  addle-headed,  that  he  could  say 
nothing  more  ;  which  Mrs.  Gamp  regarded  as  the  triumph  of 
her  art. 

"  There  !  "  she  said,  loosening  the  old  man's  cravat,  in 
consequence  of  his  being  rather  black  in  the  face,  after  this 
scientific  treatment.  "  Now,  I  hope,  you're  easy  in  your  mind. 
If  you  should  turn  at  all  faint,  we  can  soon  rewive  you,  sir,  I 
promige  you.  Bite  a  person's  thumbs,  or  turn  their  fingers 
the  wrong  way,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  smiling  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  at  once  imparting  pleasure  and  instruction  to  her 
auditors,  "  and  they  comes  to,  wonderful,  Lord  bless  you  !  " 

As  this  excellent  woman  had  been  formally  entrusted  with 
the  care  of  Mr.  Chuffey  on  a  previous  occasion,  neither  Mrs. 
Jonas  nor  anybody  else  had  the  resolution  to  interfere  directly 
with  her  mode  of  treatment :  though  all  present  (Tons  Pinch 
and  his  sister  especially)  appeared  to  be  disposed  to  differ 
from  her  views.  For  such  is  the  rash  boldness  of  the  unin- 
itiated, that  they  will  frequently  set  up  some  monstrous  ab- 
stract principle,  such  as  humanity,  or  tenderness,  or  the  like 
idle  folly,  in  obstinate  defiance  of  all  precedent  and  usage  ; 
and  will  even  venture  to  maintain  the  same  against  the  per- 
sons who  have  made  the  precedents  and  established  the  usage, 
and  who  must  therefore  be  the  best  and  most  impartial  judges 
of  the  subject. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  all  comes  of 
this  unfortunate  marriage.  If  my  sister  had  not  been  so  pre- 
cipitate, and  had  not  united  herself  to  a  Wretch,  there  would 
have  been  no  Mr.  Chuffey  in  the  house." 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  She'll  hear  you." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  she  did  hear  me,  Mr.  Pinch," 
said  Cherry,  raising  her  voice  a  little  ;  "  for  it  is  not  in  my 
nature  to  add  to  the  uneasiness  of  any  person,  far  less  of  my 
own  sister,  /know  what  a  sister's  duties  are,  Mr.  Pinch,  and 
I  hope  I  always  showed  it  in  my  practice.  Augustus,  my  dear 
child,  find  my  pocket-handkerchief,  and  give  it  to  me. 

Augustus  obeyed,  and  took  Mrs.  Todgers  aside  to  pour 
his  griefs  into  her  friendly  bosom. 

"  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Charity,  looking  after  her 
betrothed  and  glancing  at  her  sister,  "  that  I  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  for  the  blessings  I  enjoy,  and  those  which  are  yet  in 
store  for  me.  When  I  contrast  Augustus  " — here  she  was 
modest  and  embarrassed — "  who,  I  don't  mind  saying  to  you, 
is  all   softness,  mildness,  and  devotion,  with  the  detestable 


MAKTTN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  707 

man  who  is  my  sister's  husband  ;  and  when  I  think,  Mr.  Pinch, 
that  in  the  dispensations  of  this  world,  our  cases  mig^ht  have 
been  reversed,  I  have  much  to  be  thankful  for,  indeed,  and 
much  to  make  me  liumble  and  contented." 

Contented  she  might  have  been,  but  humble  she  assur- 
edly was  not.  Her  face  and  manner  experienced  something 
so  widely  different  from  humility,  that  Tom  could  not  help 
understanding  and  despising  the  base  motives  that  were  work- 
ing in  her  breast.  He  turned  away,  and  said  to  Ruth,  that  it 
was  time  for  them  to  go. 

"  I  will  write  to  your  husband,"  said  Tom  to  Merry,  "and 
explain  to  him,  as  I  would  have  done  if  I  had  met  him  here, 
that  if  he  has  sustained  any  inconvenience  through  my  means, 
it  is  not  my  fault  :  a  postman  not  being  more  innocent  of  the 
news  he  brings,  than  I  was  when  I  handed  him  that  letter." 

"  I  thank  you  !  "  said  Merry.     "  It  may  do  some  good." 

She  parted  tenderly  from  Ruth,  who  with  her  brother  was 
in  the  act  of  leaving  the  room,  when  a  key  was  heard  in  the 
lock  of  the  door  below,  and  immediately  afterwards  a  quick 
footstep  in  the  passage.     Tom  stopped,  and  looked  at  Merry. 

It  was  Jonas,  she  said  timidly. 

"  I  had  better  not  meet  him  on  the  stairs,  perhaps,"  said 
Tom,  drawing  his  sister's  arm  through  his,  and  coming  back 
a  step  or  two.     "  I'll  wait  for  him  here,  a  moment." 

He  had  scarcely  said  it  when  the  door  opened,  and  Jonas 
entered.  His  wife  came  forward  to  receive  him  ;  but  he  put 
her  aside  with  his  hand,  and  said  in  a  surly  tone  : 

"  I  didn't  know  you"d  got  a  party." 

As  he  looked,  at  the  same  time,  either  by  accident  or  de^ 
sign,  towards  Miss  Pecksniff  ;  and  as  Miss  Pecksniff  was  only 
too  delighted  to  quarrel  with  him,  she  instantly  resented  it. 

"Oh  dear  !"  she  said,  rising.  "Pray  don't  let  us  intrude 
upon  your  domestic  happiness  !  That  would  be  a  pity.  We 
have  taken  tea,  sir,  in  your  absence  ;  but  if  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  send  us  a  note  of  the  expense,  receipted,  we 
shall  be  happy  to  pay  it.  Augustus,  my  love,  we  will  go,  if 
you  please.  Mrs.  Todgers,  unless  you  wish  to  remain  here, 
we  shall  be  happy  to  take  you  with  us.  It  would  be  a  pity, 
indeed,  to  spoil  the  bliss  which  this  gentleman  always  brings 
with  him,  especially  into  his  own  home." 

"Charity!  Charity  !"  remonstrated  her  sister,  in  such  a 
heartfelt  tone  that  she  might  have  been  imploring  her  to  show 
the  cardinal  virtue  whose  name  she  bore. 


7o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Merr\%  my  clear,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  ad- 
vice," returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  a  stately  scorn — by  the 
way,  she  had  not  been  offered  any — "but  /  am  not  his 
slave " 

"  No,  nor  wouldn't  have  been  if  you  could,"  interrupted 
Jonas.     "  We  know  all  about  it." 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir  1 "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  sharply. 

"Didn't  you  hear.''  "  retorted  Jonas,  lounging  down  upon 
a  chair.  "  I  am  not  a-going  to  say  it  again.  If  you  like  to 
stay,  you  may  stay.  If  you  like  to  go,  you  may  go.  But  if 
you  stay,  please  to  be  civil." 

"  Beast !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  sweeping  past  him. 
"  Augustus  !  He  is  beneath  your  notice  !  "  Augustus  had 
been  making  some  faint  and  sickly  demonstration  of  shaking 
his  fist.  "Come  away,  child,"  screamed  Miss  Pecksniff,  "I 
command  you  !  " 

The  scream  was  elicited  from  her  by  Augustus  manifest- 
ing an  intention  to  return  and  grapple  with  him.  But  Miss 
Pecksniff  giving  the  fiery  youth  a  pull,  and  Mrs.  Todgers  giv- 
ing him  a  push,  they  all  three  tumbled  out  of  the  room  to- 
gether, to  the  music  of  Miss  Pecksniff's  shrill  remonstrances. 

All  this  time,  Jonas  had  seen  nothing  of  Tom  and  his  sis- 
ter ;  for  they  were  almost  behind  the  door  when  he  opened  it, 
and  he  had  sat  down  with  his  back  towards  them,  and  had 
purposely  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
during  his  altercation  with  Miss  Pecksniff,  in  order  that  his 
seeming  carelessness  might  increase  the  exasperation  of  that 
wronged  young  damsel.  His  wife  now  faltered  out  that  Tom 
had  been  waiting  to  see  him  ;  and  Tom  ad\anced. 

The  instant  he  presented  himself,  Jonas  got  up  from  his 
chair,  and  swearing  a  great  oath,  caught  it  in  his  grasp,  as  if 
he  would  have  felled  Tom  to  the  ground  with  it.  As  he  most 
unquestionably  would  have  done,  but  that,  his  very  passion 
and  surprise  made  him  irresolute,  and  gave  Tom,  in  his  calm- 
ness, an  opportunity  of  being  heard. 

"  You  have  no  cause  to  be  violent,  sir,"  said  Tom. 
"  Though  what  I  wish  to  say  relates  to  your  own  affairs,  I 
know  nothing  of  them,  and  desire  to  know  nothing  of  them." 

Jonas  was  too  enraged  to  speak.  He  held  the  door  open; 
and  stamping  his  foot  upon  the  ground,  motioned  Tom  away. 

"  As  you  cannot  suppose,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  here, 
with  any  view  of  conciliating  you  or  pleasing  myself,  I  am 
quite  indifferent  to  your  reception  of  me,  or  your  dismissal  of 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 


709 


me.  Hear  what  I  have  to  say,  if  you  are  not  a  madman  !  I 
gave  you  a  letter  the  other  day,  when  you  were  about  to  go 
abroad." 

"  You  Thief,  you  did  ! "'  retorted  Jonas.  "  I'll  pay  you  for 
the  carriage  of  it  one  day,  and  settle  an  old  score  besides.  I 
will  !  " 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tom,  "  you  needn't  waste  words  or 
threats.  I  wish  you  to  understand — plainly  because  I  would 
rather  keep  clear  of  you  and  everything  that  concerns  you  ; 
not  because  I  have  the  least  apprehension  of  your  doing  me  any 
injury,  which  would  be  weak  indeed — ^that  I  am  no  party  to 
the  contents  of  that  letter.  That  I  know  nothing  of  it.  That 
I  was  not  even  aware  that  it  was  to  be  delivered  to  you  ;  and 
that  I  had  it  from " 

"  By  the  Lord  !  "  cried  Jonas,  fiercely  catching  up  the 
chair,  "I'll  knock  your  brains  out,  if  you  speak  another 
word." 

Tom,  nevertheless,  persisting  in  his  intention,  and  opening 
his  lips  to  speak  again,  Jonas  set  upon  him  like  a  sa\age  ; 
and  in  the  quickness  and  ferocity  of  his  attack  would  have 
surely  done  him  some  grievous  injury,  defenceless  as  he  was, 
and  embarrassed  by  having  his  frightened  sister  clinging  to 
his  arm,  if  Merry  had  not  run  between  them,  crying  to  Tom 
for  the  love  of  Heaven  to  leave  the  house.  The  auonv  of  lliis 
poor  creature,  the  terror  of  his  sister,  the  impossibility  of  mak- 
ing himself  audible,  and  the  equal  impossibility  of  bearing  up 
against  Mrs.  Gamp,  who  threw  herself  upon  him  like  a  feather- 
bed, and  forced  him  backwards  down  the  stairs  bv  the  mere 
oppression  of  her  dead-weight,  prevailed.  Tom  shook  tl;e 
dust  of  that  house  off  his  feet,  without  having  mentioned 
Nadgett's  name. 

If  the  name  could  have  passed  his  lips;  if  Jonas,  in  the 
insolence  of  his  vile  nature,  had  ne\  er  roused  him  to  do  that 
old  act  of  manliness,  for  which  (and  not  for  his  last  offence) 
be  hated  him  with  such  malignity  ;  if  Jonas  could  have 
learned,  as  then  he  could  and  would  have  learned,  through 
Tom's  means,  what  unsuspected  spy  there  was  upon  him  ;  he 
would  have  been  saved  from  the  commission  of  a  Guilty  Deed, 
then  drawing  on  towards  its  black  accomplishment.  But  the 
fatality  was  of  his  own  working  ;  the  pit  was  of  his  own  dig- 
ging;  the  gloom  that  gathered  round  him,  was  the  shadow  of 
his  own  life. 

His  wife  had  closed  the  door,  and  thrown  herself  before  it, 


7  I  o  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

on  the  ground,  upon  her  knees.  She  held  up  her  hands  to 
him  now,  and  besought  him  not  to  be  harsh  with  her,  for  she 
had  interposed  in  fear  of  bloodshed. 

"  So,  so  !  "  said  Jonas,  looking  down  upon  her,  as  he 
fetched  his  breath.  "  These  are  your  friends,  are  they,  when 
I  am  away  t  You  plot  and  tamper  with  this  sort  of  people, 
do  you  .''  " 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  have  no  knowledge  of  these  secrets,  and 
no  clue  to  their  meaning.  I  have  never  seen  him  since  I  left 
home  but  once — but  twice — before  to-day." 

"  Oh  !  "  sneered  Jonas,  catching  at  this  correction.  "  But 
once,  but  twice,  eh  t  Which  do  you  mean  ?  Twice  and  once, 
perhaps.     Three  times  !     How  many  more,  you  lying  jade  }  " 

As  he  made  an  angrv  motion  with  his  hand,  she  shrunk 
down  hastily.    .A  suggestive  action  !     Full  of  a  cruel  truth 

"  How  many  more  times  .-'  "  he  repeated. 

"  No  more.  The  other  morning,  and  to-day,  and  once  be- 
sides." 

He  was  about  to  retort  upon  her,  when  the  clock  struck. 
He  started,  stopped,  and  listened ;  appearing  to  revert  to 
some  engagement,  or  to  some  other  subject,  a  secret  within 
his  own  breast,  recalled  to  him  by  this  record  of  the  progress 
of  the  hours. 

"  Don't  lie  there  !     Get  up  !  " 

Having  helped  her  to  rise,  or  rather  hauled  her  up  by  the 
arm,  he  went  on  to  say: 

"  Listen  to  me,  young  lady  ;  and  don't  whine  when  you 
have  no  occasion,  or  I  may  make  some  for  you.  If  I  find  him 
in  my  house  again,  or  find  that  you  have  seen  him  in  anybody 
else's  house,  you'll  repent  it.  If  you  are  not  deaf  and  dumb 
to  everything  that  concerns  me,  unless  you  have  my  leave  to 
hear  and  speak,  you'll  repent  it.  If  you  don't  obey  exactly 
what  I  order,  you'll  repent  it.  Now,  attend.  What's  the 
time }  " 

"  It  struck  Eight  a  minute  ago." 

He  looked  towards  her  intently  ;  and  said,  with  a  labored 
distinctness,  as  if  he  had  got  the  words  off  by  heart : 

"  I  have  been  travelling  day  and  night,  and  am  tired.  I 
have  lost  some  money,  and  that  don't  improve  me.  Put  my 
supper  in  the  little  off-room  below,  and  have  the  truckle-bed 
made.  I  shall  sleep  there  to-night,  and  maybe  to-morrow 
night  ;  and  if  I  can  sleep  all  day  to-morrow,  so  much  the 
better,  for  I've  got  trouble  to  sleep  off,  if  I  can.     Keep  the 


MARTIN  C NUZZLE  WIT.  7  1 1 

house   quiet,  and  don't  call   me.     IMind !       Don't    call    me ! 
Don  t  let  anybody  call  me.     Let  me  lie  there." 

She  said  it  should  be  done.     Was  that  all } 

"  All  what !  You  must  be  prying  and  questioning  ?  "  he 
angrily  retorted.     "What  more  do  you  want  to  know.?" 

"  I  want  to  know  nothing,  Jonas,  but  what  you  tell  me. 
All  hope  of  conhdence  between  us  has  long  deserted  me !  " 

"  Ecod,  I  should  hope  so  !  "  he  muttered. 

"  But  if  you  will  tell  me  what  you  wish,  I  will  be  obedient 
and  will  tiy  to  please  you.  I  make  no  merit  of  that,  for  1  have 
no  friend  in  my  father  or  my  sister,  but  am  quite  alone.  I  am 
very  humble  and  submissive.  You  told  me  you  would  break 
my  spirit,  and  you  have  done  so.  Do  not  break  my  heart 
too  !  " 

She  ventured,  as  she  said  these  words,  to  lay  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  He  suffered  it  to  rest  there,  in  his  exulta- 
tion ;  and  the  whole  mean,  abject,  sordid,  pitiful  soul  of  the 
man,  looked  at  her,  for  the  moment,  through  his  wicked  eyes. 

For  the  moment  only  ;  for,  wiih  the  same  hurried  return 
to  something  within  himself,  he  bade  her,  in  a  surly  tone,  show 
her  obedience  by  executing  his  commands  without  dela\-. 
When  she  had  withdrawn,  he  paced  up  and  down  the  room 
several  times  ;  but  always  with  his  right  hand  clenched,  as  if 
it  held  something  ;  which  it  did  not,  being  empty.  When  he 
was  tired  of  this,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  thought- 
fully turned  up  the  sleeve  of  his  right  arm,  as  if  he  were  rather 
musing  about  its  strength  than  examining  it ;  but,  even  then, 
he  kept  the  hand  clenched. 

He  was  brooding  in  this  chair,  with  his  eyes  cast  down 
upon  the  ground,  when  Mrs.  Gamp  came  in  to  tell  him  that 
the  little  room  was  ready.  Not  being  quite  sure  of  her  re- 
ception after  interfering  in  the  quarrel,  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  a 
means  of  interesting  and  propitiating  her  patron,  affected  a 
deep  solicitude  in  Mr.  Chuffey. 

"  How  is  he  now,  sir  t  "  she  said. 

"  Who  t  "  cried  Jonas,  raising  his  head,  and  staring  at  her. 

"To  be  sure?"  returned  the  matron  with  a  smile  and  a 
curtsey.  "  What  am  I  thinking  of  !  You  wasn't  here,  sir, 
when  he  was  took  so  strange.  I  never  see  a  poor  dear  creetur 
took  so  strange  in  all  my  life,  except  a  patient  much  about  the 
same  age,  as  I  once  nussed,  which  his  calling  was  the  custom- 
'us,  and  his  name  was  Mrs.  Harris's  own  father,  as  pleasant  a 
singer,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  ever  you  heerd,  with  a  voice  like  a 


712  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Jew's-liarp  in  the  bass  notes,  that  it  took  six  men  to  hold  at 
sech  times,  foaming  frightful." 

"Chuffey,  eh?"  said  Jonas  carelessly,  seeing  that  she 
went  up  to  the  old  clerk,  and  looked  at  him.     "  Ha  !  " 

"The  creetur's  head's  so  hot,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "that 
you  might  eat  a  flat-iron  at  it.  And  no  wonder .  I  am  sure, 
considerin'  the  things  he  said  !  " 

"  Said  !  "  cried  Jonas.     "  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  to  put  some 
check  upon  its  palpitations,  and  turning  up  her  eyes  replied  in 
a  faint  voice  : 

"  The  awfullest  things,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  ever  I  heerd  ! 
Which  Mrs.  Harris's  father  never  spoke  a  word  when  took  so, 
some  does  and  some  don't,  except  sayin'  when  he  come  round, 
'Where  is  Sairey  Gamp.?'  But  raly,  sir,  when  Mr.  Chuffey 
comes  to  ask  who's  lyin'  dead  up  stairs,  and — " 

"  Who's  lying  dead  up  stairs !  "  repeated  Jonas,  standing 
aghast. 

Mrs.  Gamp  nodded,  made  as  if  she  were  swallowing,  and 
went  on. 

"  Who's  lying  dead  up  stairs  ;  such  was  his  Bible  language  ; 
and  where  was  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  as  had  the  only  son  ;  and  when 
he  goes  up  stairs  a  looking  in  the  beds  and  wandering  about 
the  rooms,  and  comes  down  again  a  whisperin'  softly  to  his- 
self  about  foul  play  and  that ;  it  give  me  sich  a  turn,  I  don't 
deny  it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  that  I  never  could  have  kep  myself 
up  but  for  a  little  drain  of  spirits,  which  I  seldom  touches,  but 
could  always  wish  to  know  where  to  find,  if  so  dispoged,  never 
knowin'  wot  may  happen  next,  the  world  bein'  so  uncertain." 

"  Why,  the  old  fool's  mad ! "  cried  Jonas,  much  dis- 
turbed. 

"That's  my  opinion,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "and  I  will 
not  deceive  you.  I  believe  as  Mr.  Chuffey,  sir,  rekwires  atten- 
tion (if  1  may  make  so  bold),  and  should  not  have  his  liberty 
to  wex  and  worrit  your  sweet  lady  as  he  doos." 

"  Why,  who  minds  what  he  says  ?  "  retorted  Jonas. 

"  Still  he  is  worritin'  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  No  one 
don't  mind  him,  but  he  is  a  ill  conwenience." 

"  Ecod  you're  right,"  said  Jonas,  looking  doubtfully  at  the 
subject  of  this  conversation.  "  I  have  half  a  mind  to  shut 
him  up." 

Mrs.  Gamp  rubbed  her  hands,  and  smiled,  and  shook  her 
head,  and  sniffed  expressively,  as  scenting  a  job. 


MAR  TIN  CHL  ^ZZLE  WIT.  7  1 3 

"  Could  you — could  you  take  care  of  such  an  idiot  now,  in 
some  spare  room  up  stairs  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Me  and  a  friend  of  mine,  one  off,  one  on,  could  do  it, 
Mr,  C'huzzlewit,"  replied  the  nurse  ;  "  our  charges  not  bein' 
high,  but  wishin'  they  was  lower,  and  allowance  made  con- 
siderin'  not  strangers.  Me  and  Betsey  Prig,  sir,  would  under- 
take Mr.  Chuffey,  reasonable,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  looking  at 
him  with  her  head  on  one  side,  as  if  he  had  been  a  piece  of 
goods,  for  which  she  was  driving  a  bargain  ;  "  and  give  every 
satigefaction.  Betsey  Prig  has  nussed  a  many  lunacies,  and 
well  she  knows  their  ways,  which  puttin'  'em  right  close  afore 
the  fire,  when  fractious,  is  the  certainest  and  most  compog- 
ing." 

While  Mrs.  Gamp  discoursed  to  this  effect,  Jonas  was 
walking  up  and  down  the  room  again,  glancing  covertly  at 
the  old  clerk,  as  he  did  so.     He  now  made  a  stop,  and  said  : 

"  I  must  look  after  him,  I  suppose,  or  I  may  have  him 
doing  some  mischief.     What  say  you  ?  " 

"^Nothin'  more  likely  ! "  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  As  well  I 
have  experienged,  I  do  assure  you,  sir." 

*'  Well  !  Look  after  him  for  the  present,  and — let  me  see 
— three  days  from  this  time  let  the  other  woman  come  here, 
and  we'll  see  if  we  can  make  a  bargain  of  it.  About  nine  or 
ten  o'clock  at  night,  say.  Keep  your  eye  upon  him  in  the 
meanwhile,  and  don't  talk  about  it.  He's  as  mad  as  a  March 
hare  !  " 

"  Madder  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  A  deal  madder !  " 

"  See  to  him,  then  ;  take  care  that  he  does  no  harm  ;  and 
recollect  what  I  have  told  you." 

Leaving  Mrs.  Gamp  in  the  act  of  repeating  all  she  had 
been  told,  and  of  producing  in  support  of  her  memory  and 
trustworthiness,  many  commendations  selected  from  among 
the  most  remarkable  opinions  of  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Harris, 
he  descended  to  the  little  room  prepared  for  him,  and  pulling 
off  his  CO  It  and  his  boots,  put  them  outside  the  door  before 
he  locked  it.  In  locking  it,  he  was  careful  so  to  adjust  the 
key,  as  to  baffle  any  curious  person  wlio  might  try  to  peep  in 
through  the  keyhole  ;  and  when  he  had  taken  these  precau- 
tions, he  sat  down  to  his  supper. 

"  Mr.  Chuff,"  he  muttered,  "  it'll  be  pretty  easy  to  be  even 
with  you.  It's  of  no  use  doing  things  by  halves,  and  as  long 
as  I  stop  here,  I'll  take  good  care  of  you.  When  I'm  off  yon 
may  say  what  you  please.     But  it's  a  d — d  strange  thing,"'  he 


714  MAR  TIX  C NUZZLE  WIT. 

added,  pushing  away  his  untouched  plate,  and  striding  mood- 
ily to  and  fro,  "  that  his  drivellings  should  have  taken  this 
turn  just  now." 

After  pacing  the  room  from  end  to  end  several  times,  he 
sat  down  in  another  chair. 

"  I  say  just  now,  but  for  anything  I  know,  he  may  have 
been  carrying  on  the  same  game  all  along.  Old  dog!  He 
shall  be  gagged  !  " 

He  paced  the  room  again  in  the  same  restless  and 
unsteady  way  ;  and  then  sat  down  upon  the  bedstead,  lean- 
ing his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and  looking  at  the  table.  When 
he  had  looked  at  it  for  a  long  time,  he  remembered  his  supper  • 
and  resuming  the  chair  he  had  first  occupied,  began  to  eat 
with  great  rapacity,  not  like  a  hungrj^  man,  but  as  if  he  were 
determined  to  do  it.  He  drank  too,  roundly  ;  sometimes 
stopping  in  the  middle  of  a  draught  to  walk,  and  change  his 
seat  and  walk  again,  and  dart  back  to  the  table  and  fall  to,  in 
a  ravenous  hurr)-,  as  before. 

It  was  now  growing  dark.  As  the  gloom  of  evening, 
deepening  into  night,  came  on,  another  dark  shade  emerging 
from  within  him  seemed  to  overspread  his  face,  and  slowly 
change  it.  Slowly,  slowly  ;  darker  and  darker  ;  more  and 
more  haggard  ;  creeping  over  him  by  little  and  little  ;  until  it 
was  black  night  within  him  and  without. 

The  room  in  which  he  had  shut  himself  up,  was  on  the 
ground  floor,  at  the  back  of  the  house.  It  was  lighted  by  a 
dirty  skylight,  and  had  a  door  in  the  wall,  opening  into  a 'nar- 
row covered  passage  or  blind-alley,  verv'  little  frequented  after 
five  or  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  not  in  much  use  as  a 
thoroughfare  at  any  hour.  But  it  had  an  outlet  in  a  neigh- 
boring street. 

The  ground  on  which  this  chamber  stood,  had.  at  one  time, 
not  within  his  recollection,  been  a  yard  ;  and  had  been  con- 
verted to  its  present  purpose,  for  use  as  an  office.  But  the 
occasion  for  it  died  with  the  man  who  built  it ;  and  saving 
that  it  had  sometimes  served  as  an  apolog\'  for  a  spare  bed- 
room, and  that  the  old  clerk  had  once  held  it  (but  that  was 
years  ago)  as  his  recognized  apartment,  it  had  been  little 
trouble  by  ,-\nthony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son.  It  was  a  blotched, 
stained,  mouldering  room,  like  a  vault  ;  and  there  were  water- 
pipes  running  through  it,  which  at  unexpected  times  in  the 
niofht,  when  other  things  were  quiet,  clicked  and  gurgled 
suddenly,  as  if  they  were  choking. 


ATA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  7  i  ^ 

The  door  into  llie  court  had  not  been  open  for  a  long, 
long  time  ;  but  the  key  liad  always  hung  in  one  place,  and 
there  it  hung  now.  He  was  prepared  for  its  being  rusty  ;  for 
he  had  a  little  bottle  of  oil  in  his  pocket  and  the  feather  of  a 
pen,  with  which  he  lubricated  the  key,  and  the  lock  too,  care- 
fully. All  this  while  he  had  been  without  his  coat,  and  had 
nothing  on  his  feet  but  his  stockings.  He  now  got  softly  into 
bed,  in  the  same  state,  and  tossed  from  side  to  side  to  tumble 
it.     In  his  restless  condition,  that  was  easily  done. 

When  he  arose,  he  took  from  his  portmanteau,  which  l;e 
had  caused  to  be  carried  into  that  place  when  he  came  home, 
a  pair  of  clumsy  shoes,  and  put  them  on  his  feet  ;  also  a  pair 
of  leather  leggings,  such  as  countrymen  are  used  to  wear,  with 
straps  to  fasten  them  to  the  waistband.  In  these  he  dressed 
himself  at  leisure.  Lastly,  he  took  out  a  common  frock  of 
coarse  dark  jean,  which  he  drew  over  his  own  underclothing  ; 
and  a  felt  hat — he  had  purposely  left  his  own  up  stairs.  He 
then  sat  himself  down  by  the  door,  with  the  key  in  his  hand, 
waiting. 

He  had  no  light  ;  the  time  was  dreary,  long,  and  awful. 
The  ringers  were  practising  in  a  neighboring  church,  and  the 
clashing  of  the  bells  was  almost  maddening.  Curse  the 
clamoring  bells,  they  seemed  to  know  that  he  was  listening 
at  the  door,  and  to  proclaim  it  in  a  crowd  of  voices  to  all  the 
town  !     Would  they  never  be  still  1 

They  ceased  at  last,  and  then  the  silence  was  so  new  and 
terrible  that  it  seemed  the  prelude  to  some  dreadful  noise. 
Footsteps  in  the  court  !  Two  men.  He  fell  back  from  the 
door  on  tiptoe,  as  if  they  could  luue  seen  him  through  its 
wooden  panels. 

They  passed  on,  talking  (he  could  make  out)  about  a  skel- 
eton which  had  been  dug  up  yesterday,  in  some  work  of  exca- 
vation near  at  hand,  and  was  supposed  to  be  that  of  a  mur- 
dered man.  "  So  murder  is  not  always  found  out,  you  see," 
they  said  to  one  another  as  they  turnecl  the  corner. 

Hush  ! 

He  put  the  key  into  the  lock  and  turned  it.  The  door 
resisted  for  a  while,  but  soon  came  stiffly  o\nt\\  ;  mingling  with 
the  sense  of  fever  in  his  mouth,  a  taste  of  rust,  and  dust,  and 
earth,  and  rotting  wood.  He  looked  out ;  passed  out ;  locked 
it  after  him. 

All  was  clear  and  quiet,  as  he  tied  away. 


7 1 6  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

CONCLUSION     OF     THE     ENTERPRISE     OF     MR.    JONAS     AND     HIS 

FRIEND. 

Did  no  man  passing  through  the  dim  streets  shrink  without 
knowing  why,  when  he  came  steaHng  up  behind  them  ?  As  lie 
glided  on,  had  no  child  in  its  sleep  an  indistinct  perception  of 
a  guilty  shadow  falling  on  its  bed,  that  troubled  its  innocent 
rest  ?  Did  no  dog  howl,  and  strive  to  break  its  rattling  chain, 
that  it  might  tear  him  ;  no  burrowing  rat,  scenting  the  work 
he  had  in  hand,  essay  to  gnaw  a  passage  after  him,  that  it 
might  hold  a  greedy  revel  at  the  feast  of  his  providing  ? 
When  he  looked  back,  across  his  shoulder,  was  it  to  see  if  his 
quick  footsteps  still  fell  dry  upon  the  dusty  pavement,  or  were 
already  moist  and  clogged  with  the  red  mire  that  stained  the 
naked  feet  of  Cain  ! 

He  shaped  his  course  for  the  main  western  road,  and  soon 
reached  it,  riding  a  part  of  the  way,  then  alighting  and  walk- 
ing on  again.  He  travelled  for  a  considerable  distance  upon 
the  roof  of  a  stage-coach,  which  came  up  while  he  was  a-foot, 
and  when  it  turned  out  of  his  road,  bribed  the  driver  of  a 
return  post-chaise  to  take  him  on  with  him  ;  and  then  made 
across  the  countrv'  at  a  run,  and  saved  a  mile  or  two  before 
he  struck  again  into  the  road.  At  last,  as  his  plan  was,  he 
came  up  with  a  certain  lumbering,  slow,  night-coach,  which 
stopped  wherever  it  could,  and  was  stopping  then  at  a  public- 
house,  while  the  guard  and  coachman  ate  and  drank  within. 

He  bargained  for  a  seat  outside  this  coach,  and  took  it. 
And  he  quitted  it  no  more  until  it  was  within  a  few  miles  of 
his  destination,  but  occupied  the  same  place  all  night. 

All  night  !  It  is  a  common  fancy  that  nature  seems  to 
sleep  by  night.  It  is  a  false  fancy,  as  who  should  know  better 
than  he  ? 

The  fishes  slumbered  in  the  cold,  bright,  glistening  streams 
and. rivers,  perhaps  ;  and  the  birds  roosted  on  the  branches  of 
the  trees  ;  and  in  their  stalls  and  pastures  beasts  were  quiet ; 
and  human  creatures  slept.  But  what  of  that,  when  the  solemn 
night  was  watching,  when  it  never  winked,  when  its  darkness 
watched  no  less  than  its  light !     The  stately  trees,  the  moon 


MAR  TIN  Ciri  'ZZLE  WIT. 


717 


and  shining  stars,  the  softly-stirring  wind,  the  over-shadowed 
lane,  the  broad,  bright  country-side,  tirev  all  kept  watch.  There 
was  not  a  blade  of  growing  grass  or  corn,  but  watched  ;  and 
the  quieter  it  was,  the  more  intent  and  fixed  its  watch  upon 
him  seemed  to  be. 

And  yet  he  slept.  Riding  on  among  those  sentinels  of 
God,  he  slept,  and  did  not  change  the  purpose  of  his  journey. 
If  he  forgot  it  in  his  troubled  dreams,  it  came  up  steadily,  and 
woke  him.  But  it  never  woke  him  to  remorse,  or  to  abandon- 
ment of  his  design. 

He  dreamed  at  one  time  that  he  was  lying  calmly  in  his 
bed,  thinking  of  a  moonlight  night  and  the  noise  of  wheels, 
when  the  old  clerk  put  his  head  in  at  the  door,  and  beckoned 
him.  At  this  signal  he  arose  immediately — being  already 
dressed,  in  the  .clothes  he  actually  wore  at  that  time — and  ac- 
companied him  into  a  strange  city,  where  the  names  of  the 
streets  were  written  on  the  walls  in  characters  quite  new  to 
him  ;  which  gave  him  no  surprise  or  uneasiness,  for  he  re- 
membered in  his  dream  to  have  been  there  before.  Although 
these  streets  were  very  precipitous,  insomuch  that  to  get  from 
one  to  another,  it  was  necessary  to  descend  great  heights  by 
ladders  that  were  too  short,  and  ropes  that  moved  deep  bells, 
and  swung  and  swayed  as  they  were  clung  to,  the  danger  gave 
him  little  emotion  beyond  the  first  thrill  of  terror  :  his  anxie- 
ties being  concentrated  on  his  dress,  which  was  quite  unfitted 
for  some  festival  that  was  about  to  be  holden  there,  and  in 
which  he  had  come  to  take  a  part.  Already,  great  crowds 
began  to  fill  the  streets,  and  in  one  direction  myriads  of  peo- 
ple came  rushing  down  an  interminable  perspective,  strewing 
flowers  and  making  way  for  others  on  white  horses,  when  a 
terrible  figure  started  from  the  throng,  and  cried  out  that  it 
was  the  Last  Day  for  all  the  world.  The  cry  being  spread, 
there  was  a  wild  hurrying  on  to  Judgment  ;  and  the  press  be- 
came so  great  that  he  and  his  companion  (who  was  constantly 
changing,  and  was  never  the  same  man  two  minutes  together, 
though  he  never  saw  one  man  come  or  another  go),  stood 
aside  in  a  porch,  fearfully  surveying  the  multitude  ;  in  which 
there  were  many  faces  that  he  knew,  and  many  that  he  did 
not  know,  but  dreamed  he  did  ;  when  all  at  once  a  struggling 
head  rose  up  among  the  rest — livid  and  deadlv,  but  the  same 
as  he  had  known  it — and  denounced  him  as  having  appointed 
that  direful  day  to  happen.  They  closed  together.  As  he 
strove  to  free  the  hand  in  which  he  held  a  club,  and  strike  the 


7i8  MARTIN  CUUZZLEWIT. 

the  blow  he  had  so  often  thought  of,  he  started  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  waking  purpose  and  the  rising  of  the  sun. 

The  sun  was  welcome  to  him.  There  were  life  and  mo- 
tion, and  a  world  astir,  to  divide  the  attention  of  Day.  It 
was  the  eye  of  Night  :  of  wakeful,  watchful,  silent,  and  atten- 
ti\e  Night,  with  so  much  leisure  for  the  observation  of  his 
wicked  thoughts  :  that  he  dreaded  most.  There  is  no  glare 
in  the  night.  Even  Glory  shows  to  small  advantage  in  the 
night,  upon  a  crowded  battle-field.  How  then  shows  Glory's 
blood-relation,  bastard  Murder  ! 

Ay !  He  made  no  compromise,  and  held  no  secret  with 
himself  now.     Murder.     He  had  come  to  do  it. 

"  Let  me  get  down  here,"  he  said. 

"  Short  of  the  town,  eh  }  "  observed  the  coachman, 

"  I  may  get  down  where  I  please,  I  suppose  .'' " 

"  You  got  up  to  please  yourself,  and  may  get  down  to 
please  yourself.  It  won't  break  our  hearts  to  lose  you,  and  it 
wouldn't  have  broken  'em  if  we'd  never  found  you.  Be  a 
little  quicker.     That's  all." 

The  guard  had  alighted,  and  was  waiting  in  the  road  to 
take  his  money.  In  the  jealousy  and  distrust  of  what  lie  con- 
templated, he  thought  this  man  looked  at  him  with  more  than 
common  curiosity. 

"What  are  you  staring  at  ?  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Not  at  a  handsome  man,"  returned  the  guard.  "  If  you 
want  your  fortune  told,  I'll  tell  you  a  bit  of  it.  You  won't  be 
drowned.     That's  a  consolation  for  you." 

Before  he  could  retort  or  turn  away,  the  coachman  put 
an  end  to  the  dialogue  by  giving  him  a  cut  with  his  whip,  and 
bid  him  get  out  for  a  surly  dog.  The  guard  jumped  up  to 
his  seat  at  the  same  moment,  and  they  drove  off,  laughing  ; 
leaving  him  to  stand  in  the  road,  and  shake  his  fist  at  them. 
He  was  not  displeased  though,  on  second  thoughts,  to  have 
been  taken  for  an  ill-conditioned  common  countr\'-fellow ;  but 
rather  congratulated  himself  upon  it  as  a  proof  that  he  was 
well  disguised. 

Wandering  into  a  copse  by  the  road-side — but  not  in  that 
place  :  two  or  three  miles  off — he  tore  out  from  a  fence  a  thick, 
hard,,  knotted  stake  ;  and,  sitting  down  beneath  a  hay-rick, 
spent  some  time  in  shaping  it,  in  peeling  olT  the  bark,  and 
fashioning  its  jagged  head,  with  his  knife. 

The  day  passed  on.     Noon,  afternoon,  evening.     Sunset. 

At  that  serene  and  peaceful  time  two  men,  riding  in  a  gig, 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE IVIT. 


V9 


came  out  of  the  city  by  a  road  not  much  frequented.  It  was 
the  day  on  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  asjreed  to  dine  with  Mon- 
tague. He  had  kept  his  appointment,  and  was  now  going 
home.  His  host  was  riding  with  him  for  a  short  distance : 
meaning  to  return  by  a  pleasant  track,  which  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  engaged  to  show  him,  through  some  fields.  Jonas  knew 
their  plans.  He  had  hung  about  the  inn-yard  while  they 
were  at  dinner  and  had  heard  their  orders  given. 

They  were  loud  and  merry  in  their  conversation,  and  might 
have  been  heard  at  some  distance  :  far  above  the  sound  of 
their  carriage  wheels  or  horses'  hoofs.  They  came  on  noisily, 
to  where  a  stile  and  footpath  indicated  their  point  of  separa- 
tion.    Here  they  stoppecl. 

"  It's  too  soon.  Much  too  soon,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  But  this  is  the. place,  my  dear  sir.  Keep  the  path,  and  go 
straight  through  the  little  wood  you'll  come  to.  The  path  is 
narrower  there,  but  you  can't  miss  it.  When  shall  I  see  you 
again  .'     Soon  I  hope  .''  " 

"I  hope  so,"  replied  Montague. 

"  Good-night !  " 

"  Good-night,  and  a  pleasant  ride  !  " 

So  long  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  sight,  and  turned  his  head, 
at  intervals,  to  salute  him,  Montague  stood  in  the  road  smiling, 
and  waving  his  hand.  But  when  his  new  partner  had  disap- 
peared, and  this  show  was  no  longer  necessary,  he  sat  down 
on  the  stile  with  looks  so  altered,  that  he  might  have  grown 
ten  years  older  in  the  meantime. 

He  was  flushed  with  wine,  but  not  gay.  His  scheme  had 
succeeded,  but  he  showed  no  triumph.  The  effort  of  sustain- 
ing his  difficult  part  before  his  late  companion  had  fatigued 
him,  perhaps,  or  it  may  be,  that  the  evening  whispered  to  his 
conscience,  or  it  may  be  (as  it  has  been)  that  a  shadowy  veil 
was  dropping  round  him,  closing  out  all  thoughts  but  the 
presentiment  and  vague  foreknowledge  of  impending  doom. 

If  there  be  fluids,  as  we  know  there  are,  which,  conscious 
of  a  coming  wind,  or  rain  or  frost,  will  shrink  and  strive  to  hide 
themselves  in  their  glass  arteries  ;  may  not  that  subtle  liquor 
of  the  blood  perceive,  by  properties  within  itself,  that  hands 
are  raised  to  waste  and  spill  it ;  and  in  the  veins  of  men  run 
cold  and  dull  as  his  did,  in  that  hour  ! 

So  cold,  although  the  air  was  warm  :  so  dull,  although  the 
sky  was  bright :  that  he  rose  up  shivering,  from  his  seat,  and 
hastily  resumed  his  walk.     He   checked  himself  as  hastily : 


po  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

undecided  whether  to  pursue  the  footpath  which  was  lonely 
and  retired,  or  to  go  back  by  the  road. 

He  took  the  footpath. 

The  glory  of  the  departing  sun  was  on  his  face.  The 
music  of  the  birds  was  in  his  ears.  Sweet  wild  flowers  bloom- 
ed about  him.  Thatched  roofs  of  poor  men's  homes  were  in 
the  distance ;  and  an  old  gray  spire,  surmounted  by  a  Cross, 
rose  up  between  him  and  the  coming  night. 

He  had  never  read  the  lesson  which  these  things  con- 
veyed :  he  had  ever  mocked  and  turned  away  from  it  \  but, 
before  going  down  into  a  hollow  place,  he  looked  round,  once, 
upon  the  evening  prospect,  sorrowfully.  Then  he  went  down, 
down,  down,  into  the  dell. 

It  brought  him  to  the  wood  ;  a  close,  thick,  shadowy  wood, 
through  which  the  path  went  winding  on,  dwindling  away  into 
a  slender  sheep-track.  He  paused  before  entering  \  for  the 
stillness  of  this  spot  almost  daunted  him. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  in,  aslant,  making 
a  path  of  golden  light  along  the  stems  and  branches  in  its 
range,  which,  even  as  he  looked,  began  to  die  away,  yielding 
gently  to  the  twilight  that  came  creeping  on.  It  was  so  very 
quiet  that  the  soft  and  stealthy  moss  about  the  trunks  of  some 
old  trees,  seemed  to  have  grown  out  of  the  silence,  and  to  be 
its  proper  offspring.  Those  other  trees  which  were  subdued 
by  blasts  of  wind  in  winter  time,  had  not  quite  tumbled  down, 
but  being  caught  by  others,  lay  all  bare  and  scathed  across  their 
leafy  arms,  as  if  unwilling  to  disturb  the  general  repose  by 
the  crash  of  their  fall.  Vistas  of  silence  opened  everywhere, 
into  the  heart  and  innermost  recesses  of  the  wood  ;  beginning 
with  the  likeness  of  an  aisle,  a  cloister,  or  a  ruin  open  to  the 
sky  ;  then  tangling  off  into  a  deep  green  rustling  mystery, 
through  which  gnarled  trunks,  and  twisted  boughs,  and  ivy- 
covered  stems,  and  trembling  leaves,  and  bark-stripped  bodies 
of  old  trees  stretched  out  at  length,  were  faintly  seen  in  beau- 
tiful confusion. 

As  the  sunlight  died  away,  and  evening  fell  upon  the 
wood,  he  entered  it.  Moving,  here  and  there,  a  bramble  or  a 
drooping  bough  wliich  stretched  across  his  path,  he  slowly 
disappeared.  ■  At  intervals  a  narrow  opening  showed  him 
passing  on,  or  the  sliarp  cracking  of  some  tender  branch  de- 
noted where  he  went :  then,  he  was  seen  or  heard  no  more. 

Never  more  beheld  by  mortal  eye  or  heard  by  mortal  ear : 
one  man  excepted.     That  man,  parting  the  leaves  and  branches 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


721 


on  the  other  side,  near  where  the  path  emerged  again,  came 
leaping  out  soon  afterwards. 

What  had  he  left  within  tlie  wood,  that  he  sprang  out  of 
it,  as  if  it  were  a  hell  ! 

The  body  of  a  murdered  man.  In  one  thick  solitary  spot, 
it  lay  among  the  last  year's  leaves  of  oak  and  beech,  just  as 
it  had  fallen  headlong  down.  Sopping  and  soaking  in  among 
the  leaves  that  formed  its  pillow ;  oozing  down  into  the  boggy 
ground,  as  if  to  cover  itself  from  human  sight  ;  forcing  its  way 
between  and  through  the  curling  leaves,  as  if  those  senseless 
things  rejected  and  foreswore  it,  and  were  coiled  up  in  abhor- 
rence ;  went  a  dark,  dark  stain  that  dyed  the  whole  summer 
night  from  earth  to  heaven. 

The  doer  of  this  deed  came  leaping  from  the  wood  so 
fiercely,  that  he  cast  into  the  air  a  shower  of  fragments  of 
young  boughs,  torn  away  in  his  passage,  and  fell  with  violence 
upon  the  grass.  But  he  quickly  gained  his  feet  again,  and 
keeping  underneath  a  hedge  with  his  body  bent,  went  running 
on  towards  the  road.  The  road  once  reached,  he  fell  into  a 
rapid  walk,  and  set  on  towards  London. 

And  he  was  not  sorry  for  what  he  had  done.  He  was 
frightened  when  he  thought  of  it — when  did  he  not  think  of 
it ! — but  he  was  not  sorrv.  He  had  had  a  terror  and  dread 
of  the  wood  when  he  was  in  it ;  but  being  out  of  it,  and  hav- 
ing committed  the  crime,  his  fears  were  now  diverted,  strangely, 
to  the  dark  room  he  had  left  shut  up  at  home.  He  had  a 
greater  horror,  infinitely  greater,  of  that  room  than  of  the 
wood.  Now  that  he  was  on  his  return  to  it,  it  seemed  beyond 
comparison  more  dismal  and  more  dreadful  than  the  wood. 
His  hideous  secret  was  shut  up  in  the  room,  and  all  its  ter- 
rors were  there  ;  to  his  thinking  it  was  not  in  the  world  at  all. 

He  walked  on  for  ten  miles  ;  and  then  stopped  at  an  ale- 
house for  a  coach,  which  he  knew  would  pass  through,  on  its 
way  to  London,  before  long  ;  and  which  he  also  knew  was  not 
the  coach  he  had  travelled  down  by,  for  it  came  from  another 
place.  He  sat  down  outside  the  door  here,  on  a  bench,  be- 
side a  man  who  was  smoking  his  pipe.  Having  called  for 
some  beer,  and  drunk,  he  offered  it  to  this  companion,  who 
thanked  him,  and  took  a  draught.  He  could  not  help  think- 
ing that,  if  the  man  had  known  all,  he  might  scarcely  have 
relished  drinking  out  of  the  same  cup  with  him. 

"  A  fine  night,  master  !  "  said  this  person.  "  And  a  rare 
sunset."  46 


72  2  ^^^  ^  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  I  didn't  see  it,"  was  his  hasty  answer. 

"  Didn't  see  it  ?  "  returned  the  man. 

"  How  the  devil  could  I  see  it,  if  I  was  asleep  ? 

"Asleep!  Ay,  ay."  The  man  appeared  surprised  by  his 
unexpected  irritability,  and  saying  no  more,  smoked  his  pipe  in 
silence.  They  had  not  sat  very  long,  when  there  was  a  knock- 
ing within. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  Jonas. 

"Can't  say,  I'm  sure,"  replied  the  man. 

He  made  no  further  inquiiy,  for  the  last  question  had  es- 
caped him,  in  spite  of  himself.  But  he  was  thinking,  at  the 
moment,  of  the  closed-up  room  ;  of  the  possibility  of  their 
knocking  at  the  door  on  some  special  occasion  ;  of  their  being 
alarmed  at  receiving  no  answer ;  of  their  bursting  it  open  ;  of 
their  finding  the  room  empty  ;  of  their  fastening  the  door  into 
the  court,  and  rendering  it  impossible  for  him  to  get  into  the 
house,  without  showing  himself  in  the  garb  he  wore  ;  which 
would  lead  to  rumor,  rumor  to  detection,  detection  to  death. 
At  that  instant,  as  if  by  some  design  and  order  of  circum- 
stances, the  knocking  had  come. 

It  still  continued  ;  like  a  warning  echo  of  the  dread  reality 
he  had  conjured  up.  As  he  could  not  sit  and  hear  it,  he  paid 
for  his  beer  and  walked  on  again.  And  having  slunk  about, 
in  places  unknown  to  him,  all  day ;  and  being  out  at  night 
ill  a  lonely  road,  in  an  unusual  dress,  and  in  that  wandering 
and  unsettled  frame  of  mind  ;  he  stopped  more  than  once 
to  look  about  him,  hoping  he  might  be  in  a  dream. 

Still  he  was  not  sorr^^  No.  He  had  hated  the  man  too 
much,  and  had  been  bent,  too  desperately  and  too  long,  on 
setting  himself  free.  If  the  thing  could  have  come  over  again 
he  would  have  done  it  again.  His  malignant  and  revengeful 
passions  were  not  so  easily  laid.  There  was  no  more  peni- 
tence or  remorse  within  him  now,  than  there  had  been  when 
the  deed  was  brewing. 

Dread  and  fear  were  upon  him.  To  an  extent  he  had 
never  counted  on,  and  could  not  manage  in  the  least  degree. 
He  was  so  horribly  afraid  of  that  infernal  room  at  home. 
This  made  him,  in  a  gloomy,  murderous,  mad  way,  not  only 
fearful y^;;-  himself  but  of  himself  ;  for  being,  as  it  were,  a  part 
of  the  room  :  a  something  supposed  to  be  there,  yet  missing 
from  it  :  he  invested  himself  with  its  mvsterious  terrors  ;  and 
when  he  pictured  in  his  mind  the  ugly  chamber,  false  and 
quiet,  false  and  quiet,  through  the  dark  hours  of  two  nights  \ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


723 


and  the  tumbled  bed,  and  he  not  in  it,  though  believed  to  be  ; 
he  became  in  a  manner  his  own  ghost  and  phantom,  and  was 
at  once  the  haunting  spirit  and  the  haunted  man. 

When  the  coach  came  up,  which  it  soon  did,  he  got  a  place 
outside,  and  was  carried  briskly  onward  towards  home.  Now, 
in  taking  his  seat  among  the  people  behind,  who  were  chiefly 
country  people,  he  conceived  a  fear  that  they  knew  of  the 
murder,  and  would  tell  him  that  the  body  had  been  found  \ 
which,  considering  the  time  and  place  of  the  commission  of 
the  crime,  were  e\-ents  almost  impossible  to  ha\e  happened 
yet,  as  he  very'well  knew.  But  although  he  did  know  it,  and 
had  therefore  no  reason  to  regard  their  ignorance  as  any- 
thing but  the  natural  sequence  to  the  facts,  still  this  very  ig- 
norance of  theirs  encouraged  him.  So  far  encouraged  him, 
that  he  beoran  to  believe  the  body  never  would  be  found,  and 
began  to  speculate  on  that  probability.  Setting  off  from  this 
point,  and  measuring  time  by  the  rapid  hurry  of  his  guilty 
thoughts,  and  what  had  gone  before  the  bloodshed,  and  the 
troops  of  incoherent  and  disordered  images,  of  which  he  was 
the  constant  prey  ;  he  came  by  daylight  to  regard  the  murder 
as  an  old  murder,  and  to  think  himself  comparatively  safe, 
because  it  had  not  been  discovered  yet.  Yet !  When  the  sun 
which  looked  into  the  wood,  and  gilded  with  its  rising  light  a 
dead  man's  face,  had  seen  that  man  alive,  and  sou^iit  to  win 
him  to  a  thought  of  Heaven,  on  its  going  down  last  night ! 

But  here  were  London  streets  again.     Hush  ! 

It  was  but  five  o'clock.  He  had  time  enough  to  reach  his 
own  house  unobserved,  and  before  there  were  many  people  in 
the  streets,  if  nothing  had  happened  so  far,  tending  to  his 
discovery.  He  slipped  down  from  the  coach  without  troubling 
the  driver  to  stop  his  horses  ;  and  hurr\-ing  across  the  road, 
and  in  and  out  of  ever)'  by-way  that  lay  near  his  course,  at 
length  approached  his  own  dwelling.  He  used  additional 
caution  in  his  immediate  neighborhood  ;  halting  first  to  look 
all  down  the  street  before  him  ;  then  gliding  swiftly  through 
that  one,  and  stopping  to  survey  the  next ;  and  so  on. 

The  passage-way  was  empty  when  his  murderer's  face 
looked  into  it.  He  stole  on  to  the  door,  on  tiptoe,  as  if  he 
dreaded  to  disturb  his  own  imaginar}'  rest. 

He  listened.  Not  a  sound.  As  he  turned  the  key  with  a 
trembling  hand,  and  pushed  the  door  softly  open  with  his 
knee,  a  monstrous  fear  beset  his  mind. 

What  if  the  murdered  man  were  there  before  him  ! 


724  ^f^R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 

He  cast  a  fearful  glance  all  round.  But  there  was  nothing 
there. 

He  went  in,  locked  the  door,  drew  the  key  through  and 
through  the  dust  and  damp  in  the  fire-place  to  sully  it  again, 
and  hung  it  up  as  of  old.  He  took  off  his  disguise,  tied  it  up 
in  a  bundle  ready  for  carr}'ing  away  and  sinking  in  the  river 
before  night,  and  locked  it  up  in  a  cupboard.  These  precau- 
tions taken,  he  undressed,  and  went  to  bed. 

The  raging  thirst,  the  fire  that  burnt  within  him  as  he  lay 
beneath  the  clothes,  the  augmented  horror  of  the  room,  when 
they  shut  it  out  from  his  \-iew  ;  the  agony  of  listening,  in  which 
he  paid  enforced  regard  to  every  sound,  and  thought  the  most 
unlikely  one  the  prelude  to  that  knocking  which  should  bring 
the  news  ;  the  starts  with  which  he  left  his  couch,  and  looking 
in  the  glass,  imagined  that  his  deed  was  broadly  written  in  his 
face,  and  lying  down  and  burvdng  himself  once  more  beneath 
the  blankets,  heard  his  own  heart  beating  Murder,  Murder, 
Murder,  in  the  bed ;  what  words  can  paint  tremendous  truths 
like  these ! 

The  morning  advanced.  There  were  footsteps  in  the 
house.  He  heard  the  blinds  drawn  up,  and  shutters  opened  ; 
and  now  and  then  a  stealthy  tread  outside  his  own  door.  He 
tried  to  call  out,  more  than  once,  but  his  mouth  was  dry  as  if 
it  had  been  filled  with  sand.  At  last  he  sat  up  in  his  bed,  and 
cried  : 

"  Who's  there  >  " 

It  was  his  wife. 

He  asked  her  what  it  was  o'clock  ?     Nine. 

"  Did — did  no  one  knock  at  my  door  yesterday  ?  "  he  fal- 
tered. "  Something  disturbed  me  ;  but  unless  you  had  knocked 
the  door  down,  you  would  have  got  no  notice  from  me." 

"No  one,"  she  replied.  That  was  well.  He  had  waited, 
almost  breathless,  for  her  answer.  It  was  a  relief  to  hnn,  if 
anything  could  be. 

*'  Mr.  Nadgett  wanted  to  see  you,"  she  said,  "  but  I  told  him 
you  were  tired,  and  had  requested  not  to  be  disturbed.  He 
said  it  was  of  little  consequence,  and  went  away.  As  I  was 
opening  my  window,  to  let  in  the  cool  air,  I  saw  him  passing 
through  the  street  this  morning,  ver}-  early ;  but  he  hasn't 
been  again." 

Passing  through  the  street  that  morning  ?  Very  early  ! 
Jonas  trembled  at  the  thought  of  having  had  a  narrow  chance 
of  seeing  him  himself :  even  him,  who  had  no  object  but  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


725 


avoid  people,   and  sneak  on  unobserved,  and  keep  his  own 
secrets  :  and  who  saw  nothing. 

He  called  to  her  to  get  his  breakfast  ready,  and  prepared 
to  go  up  stairs  :  attiring  himself  in  the  clothes  he  had  taken 
off  when  he  came  into  that  room,  which  had  been,  ever  since, 
outside  the  door.  In  his  secret  dread  of  meeting  the  house- 
hold for  the  first  time,  after  what  he  had  done,  he  lingered  at 
the  door  on  slight  pretexts  that  they  might  see  him  without 
looking  in  his  face  ;  and  left  it  ajar  while  he  dressed  ;  and 
called  out,  to  have  the  windows  opened,  and  the  pavement  wa- 
tered, that  thev  might  become  accustomed  to  his  voice.  Even 
when  he  had  put  off  the  time,  by  one  means  or  other,  so  that 
he  had  seen  or  spoken  to  them  all,  he  could  not  muster  cour- 
age for  a  long  while  to  go  in  among  them,  but  stood  at  his 
own  door  listening:  to  the  murmur  of   their  distant   conversa- 


tion. 

He  could  not  stop  there  forever,  and  so  joined  them.  His 
last  glance  at  the  glass  had  seen  a  tell-tale  face,  but  that  might 
have  been  because  of  his  anxious  looking  in  it.  He  dared 
not  look  at  them  to  see  if  they  observed  him,  but  he  thought 
them  very  silent. 

And  whatsoever  guard  he  kept  upon  himself,  he  could  not 
help  listening,  and  showing  that  he  listened.  Whether  he  at- 
tended to  their  talk,  or  tried  to  think  of  other  things,  or  talked 
himself,  or  held  his  peace,  or  resolutely  counted  the  dull  tick- 
ings of  a  hoarse  clock,  at  his  back,  he  always  lapsed,  as  if  a  spell 
were  on  him,  into  eager  listening.  For  he  knew  it  must  come  ; 
and  his  present  punishment,  and  torture,  and  distraction,  were, 
to  listen  for  its  coming. 

Hush! 


CHAPTER   XLVni. 


BEARS  TIDINGS  OF  MARTIN,  AND  OF  MARK,  AS  WELL  AS  OF  A 
THIRD  PERSON  NOT  QUITE  UNKNOWN  TO  THE  READER. 
EXHIBITS  FILIAL  PIETY  IN  AN  UGLY  ASPECT  ;  AND  CASTS 
A    DOUBTFUL     RAY    OF    LIGHT     UPON    A    VERY     DARK    PLACE. 

Tom  Pinch  and  Ruth  were  fitting  at  their  early  breakfast, 
with  the  window  open,  and  a  row  of  the  freshest  little  plants 


J 26  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

ranged  before  it  on  the  inside  by  Ruth's  own  hands  ;  and 
Ruth  had  fastened  a  sprig  of  geranium  in  Tom's  button-hole, 
to  mal<e  him  very  smart  and  summer-Uke  for  the  day,  (it  was 
obliced  to  be  fastened  in,  or  that  dear  old  Tom  was  certain  to 
lose  it)  ;  and  people  were  crying  flowers  up  and  down  the  street  ; 
and  a  blundering  bee,  who  had  got  himself  in  between  the  two 
sashes  of  the  window,  was  bruising  his  head  against  the  glass, 
endeavoring  to  force  himself  out  into  the  fine  morning,  and 
considering  himself  enchanted  because  he  couldn't  do  it ;  and 
the  morning  was  as  fine  a  morning  as  ever  was  seen  ;  and  the 
fragrant  air  was  kissing  Ruth  and  rustling  about  Tom,  as  if 
it  said,  "  How  are  you,  my  dears  :  I  came  all  this  way  on 
purpose  to  salute  you  ; "  and  it  was  one  of  those  glad  times 
when  we  form,  or  ought  to  form,  the  wish  that  every  one  on 
earth  were  able  to  be  happy,  and  catching  glimpses  of  the 
summer  of  the  heart,  to  feel  the  beauty  of  the  summer  of  the 
year. 

It  was  even  a  pleasanter  breakfast  than  usual  :  and  it  was 
always  a  pleasant  one.  For  little  Ruth  had  now  two  pupils 
to  attend,  each  three  times  a  week,  and  each  two  hours  at  a 
time ;  and  besides  this,  she  had  painted  some  screens  and 
card-racks,  and,  unknown  to  Tom  (was  there  ever  anything  so 
delightful  !  )  had  walked  into  a  certain  shop  which  dealt  in  such 
articles,  after  often  peeping  through  the  window;  and  had 
taken  courage  to  ask  the  mistress  of  that  shop  whether  she 
would  buy  them.  And  the  mistress  had  not  only  bought  them, 
but  had  ordered  more  ;  and  that  very  morning  Ruth  had  made 
confession  of  these  facts  to  Tom,  and  had  handed  him  the 
money  in  a  little  purse  she  had  worked  expressly  for  the  pur- 
pose. They  had  been  in  a  flutter  about  this,  and  perhaps  had 
shed  a  happy  tear  or  two  for  anything  the  history  knows  to  the 
contrary  ;  but  it  was  all  over  now  ;  and  a  brighter  face  than 
Tom's,  or  a  brighter  face  than  Ruth's  the  bright  sun  had  not 
looked  on,  since  he  went  to  bed  last  night. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Tom,  coming  so  abruptly  on  the  sub- 
ject that  he  interrupted  himself  in  the  act  of  cutting  a  slice  of 
bread,  and  left  the  knife  sticking  in  the  loaf,  "  what  a  queer 
fellow  our  landlord  is !  I  don't  believe  he  has  been  home  once, 
since  he  got  me  into  that  unsatisfactory  scrape.  I  begin  to 
think  he  will  never  come  home  again.  What  a  mysterious  life 
that  man  does  lead,  to  be  sure  ! " 

"  Very  strange.     Is  it  not,  ^Tom  !  " 

"  Really,"  said  Tom,  "  I  hope  it  is  only  strange,     I  hope 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


727 


there  may  be  nothing  wrong  in  it.  Sometimes  I  begin  to  be 
doubtfnl  of  that.  I  must  have  an  explanation  with  him,"  said 
Tom,  shaking  his  head  as  if  this  were  a  most  tremendous 
threat,  "  when  I  can  catch  him  !  " 

A  short  double  knock  at  the  door  put  Tom's  menacing 
looks  to  flight,  and  awakened  an  expression  of  surprise  in- 
stead. 

"Heyday!"  said  Tom.  "  An  early  hour  for  visitors  !  It 
must  be  John,  I  suppose." 

"I — 1 — don't  think  it  was  his  knock,  Tom,"  observed  his 
little  .sister. 

"  No  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  It  surely  can't  be  my  employer, 
suddenly  arrived  in  town  ;  directed  here  by  Mr.  Fips  ;  and 
come  for  the  key  of  the  otiice.  It's  somebody  inquiring  for 
me,  I  declare  !  .  Come  in,  if  you  please  !  " 

But  when  the  person  came  in,  Tom  Pinch,  instead  of  say- 
ing, "  Did  you  wish  to  speak  with  me,  sir  ?  "  or,  ''  My  name 
is  Pinch,  sir  :  what  is  your  business,  may  I  ask  ?  "  or  address- 
ing him  in  any  such  distant  terms  ;  cried  out,  "  Good  gracious 
Heaven  !  "  and  seized  him  by  both  hands,  with  the  liveliest 
manifestations  of  astonishment  and  pleasure. 

The  visitor  was  not  less  moved  than  Tom  himself,  and 
they  shook  hands  a  great  many  times,  without  another  word 
being  spoken  on  either  side.  Tom  was  the  hrst  to  find  his 
voice. 

"  Mark  Tapley,  too ! "  said  Tom,  running  towards  the 
door,  and  shaking  hands  with  somebody  else.  "  My  dear 
Mark,  come  in.  How  are  you,  Mark !  He  don't  look  a  day 
older  than  he  used  to  do,  at  the  Dragon.  How  arc  you, 
Mark !  " 

"  Uncommonly  jolly,  sir,  thankee,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley, 
all  smiles  and  bows.     "  I  hope  I  see  you  well,  sir." 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom,  patting  him  tenderly 
on  the  back.  "  How  delightful  it  is  to  hear  his  old  voice 
again  !  My  dear  Martin,  sit  down.  My  sister,  Martin.  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit,  my  love.  Mark  Tapley  from  the  Dragon,  my 
dear.  Good  gracious  me,  what  a  surprise  this  is  !  Sit  down. 
Lord  bless  me  !  " 

Tom  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  he  couldn't 
keep  himself  still  for  a  moment,  but  was  constantly  running 
between  Mark  and  Martin,  shaking  hands  with  them  alter- 
nately, and  presenting  them  over  and  over  again  to  his  sister. 

"  I  remember  the  day  we  parted,  Martin,  as  well  as  if  it 


728  MARTIN  CIICZZLEWn\ 

were  yesterday,"  said  Tom.  "What  a  day  it  was  !  and  what 
a  passion  you  were  in  !  And  don't  you  remember  my  over- 
taking you  in  the  road  tlaat  morning,  Mark,  when  I  was  going 
to  Salisbury  in  the  gig  to  fetch  him,  and  you  were  looking  out 
for  a  situation  !  And  don't  you  recollect  the  dinner  we  had 
at  Salisbury.  Martin,  with  John  Westlock,  eh  ?  Good  gracious 
me  !  Ruth,  my  dear,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Mark  Tapley,  my  love, 
from  the  Dragon.  More  cups  and  saucers,  if  you  please. 
Bless  my  soul  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  both  !  " 

And  then  Tom  (as  John  Westlock  had  done  on  his  arrival) 
ran  off  to  the  loaf  to  cut  some  bread  and  butter  for  them  ; 
and  before  he  had  spread  a  single  slice,  remembered  some- 
thing else,  and  came  running  back  again  to  tell  it  ;  and  then 
he  shook  hands  with  them  again  ;  and  then  he  introduced  his 
sister  again  ;  and  then  he  did  everything  he  had  done  already 
all  over  again  ;  and  nothing  Tom  could  do,  and  nothing  Tom 
could  say,  was  half  sufficient  to  express  his  joy  at  their  safe 
return. 

Mr.  Tapley  was  the  first  to  resume  his  composure.  In  a 
very  short  space  of  time,  he  was  discovered  to  have  somehow 
installed  himself  in  office  as  waiter,  or  attendant  upon  the 
party ;  a  fact  which  was  first  suggested  to  them  by  his  tempo- 
rary absence  in  the  kitchen,  and  speedy  return  with  a  kettle  of 
boiling  water,  from  which  he  replenished  the  tea-pot  with  a 
self-possession  that  was  quite  his  own. 

"  Sit  down  and  take  your  breakfast,  Mark,"  said  Tom, 
"  Make  him  sit  down  and  take  his  breakfast,  Martin." 

"Oh!  I  gave  him  up  long  ago,  as  incorrigible,"  Martin  re- 
plied. "  He  takes  his  own  way,  Tom.  You  would  excuse 
him,  Miss  Pinch,  if  you  knew  his  value." 

"  She  knows  it,  bless  you  !  "  said  Tom.  "  have  told  her 
all  about  Mark  Tapley.     Have  I  not,  Ruth.?  " 

"  Yes,  Tom." 

"  Not  all,"  returned  Martin,  in  a  low  voice.  "  The  best  of 
Mark  Tapley  is  only  known  to  one  man,  Tom ;  and  but  for 
Mark  he  would  hardly  be  alive  to  tell  it." 

"  Mark  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch  energetically,  "  if  you  don't  sit 
down  this  minute,  I'll  swear  at  you  !  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  "  sooner  than  you  should 
do  that,  I'll  com-ply.  It's  a  considerable  invasion  of  a  man's 
jollity  to  be  made  so  partickler  welcome,  but  a  Werb  is  a  word 
as  signifies  to  be,  to  do,  or  to  suiTer  (which  is  all  the  grammar, 
and  enough  too,  as  ever  I  was  taught)  •  and  if  there's  a  Werb 


MARTIX  CnUZZLEWIT. 


729 


alive,  I'm  it.     For  I'm  always  a  bein',  sometimes  a  doin',  and 
coniinually  a  sufferin'." 

"Not  jolly  yet  ?  "  asked  Tom,  with  a  smile. 

"  Why,  I  was  rather  so,  over  the  water,  sir,"  returned  Mr. 
Tapley  ;  "  and  not  entirely  without  credit.  But  Human 
Natur'  is  in  a  conspiracy  agin'  me  ;  I  can't  get  on.  I  shall 
have  to  leave  it  in  my  will,  sir,  to  be  wrote  upon  my  tomb  : 
'  He  was  a  man  as  might  have  come  out  strong  if  he  could 
have  got  a  chance.      But  it  was  denied  him.'  " 

Mr.  Tapley  took  this  occasion  of  looking  about  him  with  a 
grin,  and  subsequently  attacking  the  breakfast,  with  an  ap- 
petite not  expressive  of  blighted  hopes,  or  insurmountable 
despondency. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Martin  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer  to 
Tom  and  his  sister,  and  related  to  them  what  had  passed  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  ;  adding  in  few  words  a  general  sum- 
mary of  the  distresses  and  disappointments  he  had  vmder- 
gone  since  he  left  England. 

"  For  your  faithful  stewardship  in  the  trust  I  left  with  you, 
Tom,"  he  said,  "  arid  for  all  your  goodness  and  disinterested- 
ness, I  can  never  thank  you  enough.  When  I  add  Mary's 
thanks  to  mine " 

Ah,  Tom!  The  blood  retreated  from  his  cheeks,  and 
came  rushing  back,  so  violently,  that  it  was  pain  to  feel  it  ; 
ease  though,  ease,  compared  with  the  aching  of  his  wounded 
heart. 

"When  I  add  Mary's  thanks  to  mine,"  said  Martin,  "I 
have  made  the  only  poor  acknowledgment  it  is  in  our  power 
to  offer ;  but  if  you  knew  how  much  we  feel,  Tom,  you  would 
set  some  store  by  it,  I  am  sure." 

And  if  they  had  known  how  much  'l\:)m  felt — but  that  no 
human  creature  ever  knew — they  w(5uld  have  set  some  store 
by  him.     Indeed  they  would. 

Tom  changed  the  topic  of  discourse.  He  was  sorry  he 
could  not  pursue  it,  as  it  gave  Martin  pleasure  ;  but  he  was 
unable,  at  that  moment.  No  drop  of  envy  or  bitterness  was 
in  his  soul  ;  but  he  could  not  master  the  firm  utterance  of  her 
name. 

He  inquired  what  Martin's  projects  were. 

"  No  longer  to  make  your  fortune,  Tom,"  said  Martin, 
"  but  to  try  and  live.  I  tried  that  once  in  London,  Tom  ;  and 
failed.  If  you  will  give  me  the  benefit  of  your  advice  and 
friendly  counsel,  I  may  succeed  better  under  your  guidance. 


73° 


MA  R  TIN  CIIUZZL  E IV I T. 


I  will  do  anything,  Tom,  anything,  to  gain  a  livelihood  by  my 
own  exertions.     My  hopes  do  not  soar  above  that,  now." 

High-hearted,  noble  Tom  !  Sorry  to  find  the  pride  of  his 
old  companion  humbled,  and  to  hear  him  speaking  in  this 
altered  strain,  at  once,  at  once  he  drove,  from  his  breast  the  in- 
ability to  contend  with  its  deep  emotions,  and  spoke  out 
bravely. 

"  Your  hopes  do  not  soar  above  that ! "  cried  Tom. 
"  Yes  they  do.  How  can  you  talk  so  !  They  soar  up  to  the 
time  when  you  will  be  happy  with  her,  Martin.  They  soar  up 
to  the  time  when  you  will  be  able  to  claim  her,  Martin.  They 
soar  up  to  the  time  when  you  will  not  be  able  to  beliexe  that 
you  were  ever  cast  down  in  spirit,  or  poor  in  pocket,  Martin. 
Advice,  and  friendly  counsel  !  Why,  of  course.  But  you 
shall  have  better  advice  and  counsel  (though  you  cannot  ha\  e 
more  friendly)  than  mine.  You  shall  consult  John  Westlock. 
We'll  go  there  immediately.  It  is  yet  so  early  that  I  shall 
have  time  to  take  you  to  his  chambers  before  I  go  to  business  ; 
they  are  in  my  way  ;  and  I  can  leave  you  there,  to  talk  o\er 
your  affairs  with  him.  So  come  along.  Come  along.  I  am 
a  man  of  occupation  now,  you  know,"  said  Tom  with  his  pleas- 
antest  smile  ;  "  and  have  no  time  to  lose.  Your  hopes  don't 
soar  higher  than  that  ?  I  dare  say  they  don't.  /  know  you 
pretty  well.  They'll  be  soaring  out  of  sight  soon,  Martin,  and 
leaving  all  the  rest  of  us  leagues  behind." 

"  Ay !  But  I  may  be  a  little  changed,"  said  Martin, 
"  since  you  knew  me  pretty  well,  Tom." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Why  should  you 
be  changed  ?  You  talk  as  if  you  were  an  old  man.  I  never 
heard  such  a  fellow  !  Come  to  John  Westlock's,  come. 
Come  along,  Mark  Tapley.  It's  Mark's  doing,  I  have  no 
doubt ;  and  it  serves  you  right  for  having  such  a  grumbler  for 
your  companion." 

"  There's  no  credit  to  be  got  through  being  jolly  with  you, 
Mr.  Pinch,  anyways,"  said  Mark,  with  his  face  all  wrinkled  up 
with  grins.  "  A  parish  doctor  might  be  jolly  with  you.  There's 
nothing  short  of  goin'  to  the  U-nited  States  for  a  second  trip, 
as  would  make  it  at  all  creditable  to  be  jolly,  after  seein'  you 


agam 


t 


Tom  laughed,  and  taking  leave  of  his  sister,  hurried  Mark 
and  Martin  out  into  the  street,  and  away  to  John  Westlock's 
by  the  nearest  road  ;  for  his  hour  of  business  was  ver)'^  near  at 
hand,  and  he  prided  himself  on  always  being  exact  to  his  time„ 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  7  3 1 

John  Westlock  was  at  home,  but,  strange  to  say,  was  rather 
embarrassed  to  see  them  ;  and  when  Tom  was  about  to  go  into 
the  room  where  he  was  breakfasting,  said  he  had  a  stranger 
there.  It  appeared  to  be  a  mysterious  stranger,  for  John  shut 
that  door  as  he  said  it,  and  led  them  into  the  next  room. 

He  was  very  much  delighted,  though,  to  see  Mark  Tapley  ; 
and  received  Martin  with  his  own  frank  courtesy.  But  Martin 
felt  that  he  did  not  inspire  John  Westlock  with  any  unusual 
interest ;  and  twice  or  thrice  observed  that  he  looked  at  Tom 
Pinch  doubtfully ;  not  to  say  compassionately.  He  thought 
and  blushed  to  think  that  he  knew  the  cause  of  this. 

"  I  apprehend  you  are  engaged,"  said  Martin,  when  Tom 
had  announced  the  purport  of  their  visit.  "  If  you  will  allow 
me  to  come  again  at  your  own  time,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so." 

"  I  atn  engaged,"  replied  John,  with  some  reluctance  ;  "but 
the  matter  on-  which  I  am  engaged  is  one,  to  say  the  truth, 
more  immediately  demanding  your  knowledge  than  mine." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Martin. 

"It  relates  to  a  member  of  your  family,  and  is  of  a  serious 
nature.  If  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  remain  here,  it  will 
be  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  have  it  privately  communicated  to 
you,  in  order  that  you  may  judge  of  its  importance  for  your- 
self." 

"  And  in  the  meantime,"  said  Tom,  "  I  must  really  take 
myself  off,  without  any  further  ceremony." 

"Is  your  business  so  ver)' particular,"  asked  Martin,  "that 
you  cannot  remain  with  us  for  half  an  hour  .''  I  wish  you 
could.     What  is  your  business,  Tom  ?  " 

It  was  Tom's  turn  to  be  embarrassed  now  ;  but  he  plainly 
said,  after  a  little  hesitation  : 

"  Why,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say  what  it  is,  Martin  : 
though  I  hope  soon  to  be  in  a  condition  to  do  so,  and  am 
aware  of  no  other  reason  to  prevent  my  doing  so  now,  than 
the  request  of  my  employer.  It's  an  awkward  position  to  be 
placed  in,"  said  Tom,  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  seeming  to 
doubt  his  friend,  "  as  I  feel  every  day  ;  but  I  really  cannot 
help  it,  can  1,  John  t  " 

John  Westlock  replied  in  the  negative  ;  and  Martin,  ex- 
pressing himself  perfectly  satisfied,  begged  them  not  to  say 
another  word :  though  he  could  not  help  wondering  very 
much,  what  curious  office  Tom  held,  and  why  he  was  so  secret, 
and  embarrassed,  and  unlike  himself,  in  reference  to  it.  Nor 
could  he  help  reverting  to  it,  in  his  own  mind,  several  times 


^32  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

after  Tom  went  away,  which  he  did  as  soon  as  this  conversa- 
tion was  ended,  taking  Mr.  Tapley  with  him,  who,  as  he 
laughingly  said,  might  accompany  him  as  far  as  Fleet  Street, 
without  injury. 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  to  do,  Mark  ?  "  asked  Tom,  as 
they  walked  on  together. 

'"  Mean  to  do,  sir  ?  "  returned  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Ay.     What  course  of  life  do  you  mean  to  pursue  ? ' 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "The  fact  is,  that  I  have 
been  a-thinking  rather  of  the  matrimonial  line,  sir." 

"  You  don't  say  so,  Mark  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"Yes,  sir.     I've  been  a-turnin'  of  it  over." 

"  And  who  is  the  ladv,  Mark  ?  " 

"  The  which,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  The  lady.  Come  !  You  know  what  I  said,"  replied 
Tom,  laughing,  "  as  well  as  I  do  !  " 

Mr.  Tapley  suppressed  his  own  inclination  to  laugh  ;  and 
with  one  of  his  most  whimsically-twisted  looks,  replied, 

"  You  couldn't  guess  I  suppose,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  " 

"  How  is  it  possible  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  I  don't  know  any  of 
your  flames,  Mark.     Except  Mrs.  Lupin,  indeed." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  retorted  Mr.  Tapley.  "  And  supposing  it 
was  her  !  " 

Tom  stopping  in  the  street  to  look  at  him,  Mr.  Tapley  for 
a  moment  presented  to  his  view,  an  utterly  stolid  and  expres- 
sionless face  :  a  perfect  dead  wall  of  countenance.  But 
opening  window  after  window  in  it,  with  astonishing  rapidity, 
and  lighting  them  all  up  as  for  a  general  illumination,  he 
repeated  : 

"  Supposin',  for  the  sake  of  argument,  as  it  was  her,  sir  !  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  such  a  connexion  wouldn't  suit  you, 
Mark,  on  any  terms  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"Well,  sir,  I  used  to  think  so  myself,  once,"  said  Mark. 
"  But  I  ain't  so  clear  about  it  now,  A  dear,  sweet  creetur, 
sir  !  '' 

"  A  dear,  sweet  creature  ?  To  be  sure  she  is,"  cried  Tom. 
"  But  she  always  was  a  dear  sweet  creature,  was  she  not  ? " 

"  Was  she  not !  "  assented  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Then  why  on  earth  didn't  you  marr}'  her  at  first,  Mark, 
instead  of  wandering  abroad,  and  losing  all  this  time,  and 
leaving  her  alone  by  herself,  liable  to  be  courted  by  other 
people  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  spirit  of  unbounded 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  733 

confidence,  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  come  about.  You  know  nie, 
Mr.  Pinch,  sir  ;  there  ain't  a  gentleman  alive  as  knows  me 
better.  You're  acquainted  with  my  constitution,  and  you're 
acquainted  with  my  weakness.  My  constitution  is,  to  be 
jolly  ;  and  my  weakness  is,  to  wish  to  find  a  credit  in  it. 
Wery  good,  sir.  In  this  state  of  mind,  I  gets  a  notion  in  my 
head'  that  she  looks  on  me  with  a  eye  of — with  what  you  may 
call  a  favorable  sort  of  a  eye  in  fact,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  with 
modest  hesitation. 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  Tom.  "  We  knew  that  perfectly 
well  when  we  spoke  on  this  subject  long  ago  ;  before  you  left 
the  Dragon." 

Mr.  Tapley  nodded  assent.  "  Well  sir  !  But  bein"  _  at 
that  time  fulTof  hopeful  wisions,  I  arrives  at  the  conclusion 
that  no  credit  is  to  be  got  out  of  such  a  way  of  life  as  that, 
where  everv'thing  agreeable  would  be  ready  to  one's  hand. 
Lookin'  on 'the  bright  side  of  human  life  in  short,  one  of  my 
hopeful  wisions  is,  that  there's  a  deal  of  misery  a-waitin'  for 
me  ;  in  the  midst  of  which  I  may  come  out  tolerable  strong, 
and  be  jolly  under  circumstances  as  reflects  some  credit.  I 
goes  into  the  world,  sir,  wer)'  boyant,  and  I  tries  this.  I  goes 
aboard  ship  first,  and  wery  soon  disco\ers  (by  the  ease  with 
which  I'm  jolly,  mind  you)'  as  there's  no  credit  to  be  got  there. 
I  might  have'  took  warning  by  this,  and  gave  it  up  ;  but  I 
didn't.  I  gets  to  the  U-nited  States  ;  and  then  I  do  begin,  I 
won't  deny  it,  to  feel  some  little  credit  in  sustaining  my  spirits. 
What  follows  ?  Jest  as  I'm  beginning  to  come  out,  and  am  a 
treadin'  on  the  werge,  my  master  deceives  me." 

"  Deceives  you  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Swindles  me,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley  with  a  beaming  face. 
"  Turns  his  back  on  ev'ry  thing  as  made  his  service  a  credit- 
able one,  and  leaves  me,  high  and  dry,  without  a  leg  to  stand 
upon.  In  which  state,  I  returns  home.  Wery  good.  Then 
all  my  hopeful  wisions  bein'  crushed  ;  and  findin'  that  there 
ain't  no  credit  forme  nowhere;  I  abandons  myself  to  despair, 
and  says,  '  Let  me  do  that  as  has  the  least  credit  in  it,  of  all  ; 
marry  a  dear,  sweet  creetur,  as  is  wery  fond  of  me  :  me  being, 
at  the  same  time,  wery  fond  of  her  :  lead  a  happy  life,  and 
struggle  no  more  again'  the  blight  which  settles  on  my  pros- 
pects." 

"If  your  philosophy,  Mark,"  said  Tom,  who  lauglied 
heartily  at  this  speech,  "  be  the  oddest  I  ever  heard  of,  it  is 
not  the  least  wise.     Mrs.  Lupin  has  said  '  yes,'  of  course?  " 


734 


MA  R  TIIV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


"  Why,  no,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tapley  ;  "  she  hasnt  gone  so 
far  as  that  yet.  Which  I  attribute  principally  to  my  not 
havin'  asked  her.  But  we  was  wery  agreeable  together — ■ 
comfortable,  I  may  say — the  night  I  come  home.  It's  all 
right,  sir." 

''Well!"  said  Tom,  stopping  at  the  Temple  Gate.  "I 
wish  you  joy,  Mark,  with  all  my  heart.  I  shall  see  you  again 
to-day,  I  dare  say.     Good-by  for  the  present." 

"  Good-by,  sir  !  Good-by,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  he  added,  by  way 
of  soliloquy,  as  he  stood  looking  after  him:  "although  you 
are  a  damper  to  a  honorable  ambition.  You  little  think  it, 
but  you  was  the  first  to  dash  my  hopes.  Pecksniff  would 
have  built  me  up  for  life,  but  your  sweet  temper  pulled  me 
down.     Good-by,  Mr.  Pinch  !  " 

While  these  confidences  were  interchanged  between  Tom 
Pinch  and  Mark,  Martin  and  John  Westlock  were  very  differ- 
endy  engaged.  They  were  no  sooner  left  alone  together  than 
Martin  said,  with  an  effort  he  could  not  disguise  : 

"  Mr.  Westlock,  we  have  met  only  once  before,  but  you 
have  known  Tom  a  long  while,  and  that  seems  to  render  you 
familiar  to  me.  I  cannot  talk  freely  with  you  on  any  subject 
unless  I  relieve  my  mind  of  what  oppresses  it  just  now.  I 
see  with  pain  that  you  so  far  mistrust  me  that  you  think  me 
likely  to  impose  on  Tom's  regardlessness  of  himself,  or  on  his 
kind  nature,  or  some  of  his  good  qualities." 

"  I  had  no  intention,"  repliecl  John,  "  of  conveying  any 
such  impression  to  you,  and  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  have 
done  so." 

"  But  you  entertain  it  t  "  said  Martin. 

"  You  ask  me  so  pointedly  and  directly,"  returned  the 
other,  "  that  I  cannot  deny  the  having  accustomed  myself  to 
regard  you  as  one  who,  not  in  wantonness  but  in  mere  thought- 
lessness of  character,  did  not  sufficiently  consider  his  nature 
and  did  not  quite  treat  it  as  it  deserves  to  be  treated.  It  is 
much  easier  to  slight  than  to  appreciate  Tom  Pinch." 

This  was  not  said  warmly,  but  was  energetically  spoken 
too  ;  for  there  was  no  subject  in  the  world  (but  one)  on  which 
the  speaker  felt  so  strongly. 

"I  grew  into  the  knowledge  of  Tom,"  he  pursued,  "as  I 
grew  towards  manhood  ;  and  I  have  learned  to  love  him  as 
something  infinitely  better  than  myself.  I  did  not  think  that 
you  understood  him  when  we  met  before,  f  did  not  think 
that  you  greatly  cared  to  understand  him.     The  instances  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


735 


this  which  I  observed  in  you,  were,  like  my  opportunities  for 
observation,  very  trivial — and  were  very  harmless  I  dare  say. 
But  they  were  not  agreeable  to  me,  and  they  forced  them- 
selves upon  me  ;  for  I  was  not  upon  the  watch  for  them,  be- 
lieve me.  You  will  say,"  added  John,  with  a  smile,  as  he  sub- 
sided into  more  of  his  accustomed  manner,  "  that  I  am  not  by 
any  means  agreeable  to  you.  I  can  only  assure  you,  in  reply, 
that  I  would  not  have  originated  this  topic  on  any  account." 

"I  originated  it,"  said  Martin  ;  "and  so  far  from  ha\ing 
any  complaint  to  make  against  you,  highly  esteem  the  friend 
ship  you  entertain  for  Tom,  and  the  veiy  many  proofs  you 
have  given  him  of  it.  Why  should  I  endeavor  to  conceal 
from  you  " — he  colored  deeply  though — "  that  I  neither  under- 
stood him  nor  cared  to  understand  him  when  I  was  his  com- 
panion ;  and  that  I  am  ver}-  truly  sorry  for  it  now  !  " 

It  was  so  sincerely  said,  at  once  so  modestly  and  manfully, 
that  John  offered  him  his  hand  as  if  he  had  not  done  so  before  ; 
and  Martin  giving  his  in  the  same  open  spirit,  all  constraint 
between  the  young  men  vanished. 

"  Now  pray,"  said  John,  "when  I  tire  your  patience  very 
much  in  what  I  am  going  to  say,  recollect  that  it  has  an  end 
to  it,  and  that  the  end  is  the  point  of  the  story." 

With  this  preface,  he  related  all  the  circumstances  con- 
nected with  his  having  presided  over  the  illness  and  slow  re- 
cover)'- of  the  patient  at  the  \\\\^\  ;  and  tacked  on  to  the  skirts 
of  that  narrative  Tom's  own  account  of  the  business  on  the 
wharf.  Martin  was  not  a  little  puzzled  when  he  came  to  an 
end,  for  the  two  stories  seemed  to  have  no  connection  with 
each  other,  and  to  leave  him,  as  the  phrase  is,  all  abroad. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  for  one  moment,"  said  John, 
rising,  "  I  will  beg  you  almost  immediately  to  come  into  the 
next  room." 

Upon  that,  he  left  Martin  to  himself,  in  a  state  of  consider- 
able astonishment ;  and  soon  came  back  again  to  fulfil  his 
promise.  Accompanying  him  into  the  next  room,  Martin 
found  there  a  third  person  ;  no  doubt  the  stranger  of  whom 
his  host  had  spoken  when  Tonr  Pinch  introduced  him. 

He  was  a  young  man  ;  with  deep  black  hair  and  eyes. 
He  was  gaunt  and  pale  ;  and  evidently  had  not  long  recovered 
from  a  severe  illness.  He  stood  as  Martin  entered,  but  sat 
again  at  John's  desire.  His  eyes  were  cast  downward  ;  and 
but  for  one  glance  at  them  both,  half  in  humiliation  and  half 
in  entreaty,  he  kept  them  so,  and  sat  quite  still  and  silent. 


736  MAR  TIN-  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  This  person's  name  is  Lewsome,"  said  John  Westlock, 
"  whom  I  liave  mentioned  to  you  as  having  been  seized  with 
an  iUness  at  the  inn  near  here,  and  undergone  so  much.  He 
has  had  a  very  hard  time  of  it,  ever  since  he  began  to  recover  ; 
but,  as  you  see,  he  is  now  doing  well." 

As  he  did  not  move  or  speak,  and  John  Westlock  made  a 
pause,  Martin,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  said  that  he  was  glad 
to  hear  it. 

The  short  statement  that  I  wish  you  to  hear  from  his  own 
lips,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  John  pursued,  looking  attentively  at 
him,  and  not  at  Martin,  "  he  made  to  me  for  the  first  time 
yesterday,  and  repeated  to  me  this  morning,  without  the  least 
variation  of  any  essential  particular.  I  have  already  told  you 
that  he  informed  me  before  he  was  removed  from  the  Inn,  that 
he  had  a  secret  to  disclose  to  me  which  lay  heavy  on  his  mind. 
But,  fluctuating  between  sickness  and  health,  and  between  his 
desire  to  relieve  himself  of  it,  and  his  dread  of  involving  him- 
self by  revealing  if,  he  has,  until  yesterday,  avoided  the  dis- 
closure. I  never  pressed  him  for  it  (having  no  idea  of  its 
weight  or  import,  or  of  my  right  to  do  so),  until  within  a  few 
days  past  ;  when,  understanding  from  him,  on  his  own  volun- 
tary avowal,  in  a  letter  from  the  country,  that  it  related  to  a 
person  whose  name  was  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  ;  and  thinking  that 
it  might  throw  some  light  on  that  little  mystery  which  made 
Tom  anxious  now  and  then  ;  I  urged  the  point  upon  him,  and 
heard  his  statement,  as  you  will  now,  from  his  own  lips.  It  is 
due  to  him  to  say,  that  in  the  apprehension  of  death,  he  com- 
mitted it  to  writing  sometime  since,  and  folded  it  in  a  sealed 
paper,  addressed  to  me  :  which  he  could  not  resolve,  however, 
to  place  of  his  own  act  in  my  hands.  He  has  the  paper  in  his 
breast,  I  believe,  at  this  moment." 

The  young  man  touched  it  hastily,  in  corroboration  of  the 
fact. 

"  It  will  be  well  to  leave  that  in  our  charge,  perhaps," 
said  John.     "  But  do  not  mind  it  now." 

As  he  said  this,  he  held  up  his  hand  to  bespeak  Martin's 
attention.  It  was  already  fixed  upon  the  man  before  him, 
who,  after  a  short  silence  said,  in  a  low,  weak,  hollow  voice : 

"  What  relation  was  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  who — " 

"  — Who  died — to  me  ?  "  said  Martin.  "  He  was  my  grand- 
father's brother." 

"  I  fear  he  was  made  awav  with.     Murdered  !  " 

"  My  God  !  "  said  Martin.'    "  By  whom  .?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  737 

The  young  man  Lewsome,  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  cast- 
ing down  his  eyes  again,  replied  : 

"  I  fear,  by  me." 

''  By  you  ?  "  cried  Martin. 

"  Not  by  my  act,  but  I  fear  by  my  means." 

"  Speak  out  !  "  said  Martin,  "  and  speak  the  truth." 

"  I  fear  this  is  the  truth." 

Martin  was  about  to  interrupt  him  again,  but  John  West- 
lock  saying  softly,  "  Let  him  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way," 
Lewsome  went  on  thus : 

"  I  have  been  bred  a  surgeon,  and  for  the  last  few  years 
have  served  a  general  practitioner  in  the  City,  as  his  assistant. 
While  I  was  in  his  employment  I  became  acquainted  with 
Jonas  Chuzzlewit.     He  is  the  principal  in  this  deed." 

'•  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Martin,  sternly.  "  Do 
you  know  he  is  the  son  of  the  old  man  of  whom  you  have 
spoken  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  answered. 

He  remained  silent  for  some  moments,  when  he  resumed 
at  the  point  where  he  had  left  off. 

"  I  have  reason  to  know  it ;  for  I  have  often  heard  him 
wish  his  old  father  dead,  and  complain  of  his  being  wearisome 
to  him,  and  a  drag  upon  him.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  doing 
so,  at  a  place  of  meeting  we  had — three  or  four  of  us — at 
night.  There  was  no  good  in  the  place,  you  may  suppose, 
when  you  hear  that  he  was  the  chief  of  the  party.  I  wish  I 
had  died  mvself,  and  never  seen  it !  " 

He  stopped  again  ;  and  again  resumed  as  before. 

"  We  met  to  drink  and  game  ;  not  for  large  sums,  but  for 
sums  that  were  large  to  us.  He  generally  won.  Whether  or 
no,  he  lent  money  at  interest  to  those  who  lost;  and  in  this 
way,  though  I  think  we  all  secretly  hated  him,  he  came  to  be 
the  master  of  us.  To  propitiate  him,  we  made  a  jest  of  his 
father  :  it  began  with  his  debtors  ;  I  was  one  :  and  we  used  to 
toast  a  quicker  journey  to  the  old  man,  and  a  swift  inheritance 
to  the  young  one." 

He  paused  again. 

"  One  night  he  came  there  in  a  very  bad  humor.  He  had 
been  greatly  tried,  he  said,  by  the  old  man  that  day.  He  and 
I  were  alone  together  :  and  he  angrily  told  me,  that  the  old 
man  was  in  his  second  childhood  ;  that  he  was  weak,  imbecile, 
and  drivelling  ;  as  unbearable  to  himself  as  he  was  to  other 
people  ;  and  that  it  would  be  a  charity  to  put  him  out  of  the 

47 


738 


MA  R  TIN'  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


way.  He  swore  that  he  had  often  thought  of  mixing  some- 
thing with  the  stuff  he  took  for  his  cough,  which  should  help 
him  to  die  easily.  People  were  sometimes  smothered  who 
were  bitten  by  mad  dogs,  he  said ;  and  why  not  help  these 
lingering  old  men  out  of  their  troubles  too  t  He  looked  full 
at  me  as  he  said  so,  and  I  looked  full  at  him  ;  but  it  went  no 
farther  that  night." 

He  stopped  once  more,  and  was  silent  for  so  long  an  in- 
terval that  John  Westlock  said  "  Go  on."  Martin  had  never 
removed  his  eyes  from  his  face,  but  was  so  absorbed  in  horror 
and  astonishment,  that  he  could  not  speak. 

"  It  may  have  been  a  week  after  that,  or  it  may  have  been 
less,  or  more — the  matter  was  in  my  mind  all  the  time,  but  I 
cannot  recollect  the  time,  as  I  should  any  other  period: — when 
he  spoke  to  me  again.  We  were  alone  then,  too  ;  being  there 
before  the  usual  hour  of  assembling.  There  was  no  appoint- 
ment between  us  ;  but  I  think  I  went  there  to  meet  him,  and 
I  know  he  came  there  to  meet  me.  He  was  there  first.  He 
was  reading  a  newspaper  when  I  went  in,  and  nodded  to  me 
without  looking  up,  or  leaving .  off  reading.  I  sat  down 
opposite  and  close  to  him.  He  said,  immediately,  that  he 
wanted  me  to  get  him  some  of  two  sorts  of  drugs.  One  that 
was  instantaneous  in  its  effect  ;  of  which  he  wanted  very  little. 
One  that  was  slow,  and  not  suspicious  in  appearance  ;  of  which 
he  wanted  more.  While  he  was  speaking  to  me  he  still  read 
the  newspaper.  He  said  '  Drugs,'  and  never  used  any  other 
word.     Neither  did  I." 

"  This  all  agrees  with  what  I  have  heard  before,"  observed 
John  Westlock. 

"  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  the  drugs  for  ?  He  said  for 
no  harm  ;  to  physic  cats  ;  what  did  it  matter  to  me  .''  I  was 
going  out  to  a  distant  colony  (I  had  recently  got  the  appoint- 
ment, which,  as  Mr.  Westlock  knows,  I  have  since  lost  by  my 
sickness,  and  which  was  my  only  hope  of  salvation  from  ruin), 
and  what  did  it  matter  to  me  t  He  could  get  them  without 
my  aid  at  half  a  hundred  places,  but  not  so  easily  as  he  could 
get  them  of  me.  This  was  true.  He  might  not  want  them  at 
all,  he  said,  and  he  had  no  present  idea  of  using  them  ;  but 
he  wished  to  have  them  by  him.  All  th'is  time  he  still  read 
the  newspaper.  We  talked  about  the  price.  He  was  to  for- 
give me  a  small' debt — I  was  quite  in  his  power — and  to  pay 
me  five  pounds  ;  and  there  the  matter  dropped,  through  others 
coming  in.     But,   next  night,   under  exactly  similar  circum- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


/o9 


stances,  I  gave  him  the  drugs,  on  his  saying  I  was  a  fool  to 
think  that  he  should  ever  use  them  for  any  harm  ;  and  he  gave 
me  the  money.  W'e  ha\e  never  met  since.  I  only  know  that 
the  poor  old  father  died  soon  afterwards,  just  as  he  would 
have  died  from  this  cause  ;  and  that  I  ha\e  undergone,  and 
suffer  now,  intolerable  miser}^  Nothing,"  he  added,  stretching 
out  his  hands,  "  can  paint  my  misery  !  It  is  well  deserved,  but 
nothing  can  paint  it." 

With  that  he  hung  his  head,  and  said  no  more.  Wasted 
and  wretched,  he  was  not  a  creature  upon  whom  to  heap  re- 
proaches that  were  una\'ailing. 

"  Let  him  remain  at  hand,"  said  Martin,  turning  from  him  ; 
"  but  out  of  sight,  in  Heaven's  name  !  " 

"He  will  remain  here,"  John  whispered,  ''Come  with 
me  ! "  Softly  turning  the  key  upon  him  as  they  went  out,  he 
conducted  Martin  into  the  adjoining  room,  in  which  they  had 
been  before. 

Martin  was  so  amazed,  so  shocked,  and  confounded  by 
what  he  had  heard,  that  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  re- 
duce it  to  any  order  in  his  mind,  or  could  sufificiently  compre- 
hend the  bearing  of  one  part  upon  another,  to  take  in  all  the 
details  at  one  view.  When  he,  at  length,  had  the  whole 
narrative  clearly  before  him,  John  Westlock  went  on  to  point 
out  the  great  probability  of  the  guilt  of  Jonas  being  known  to 
other  people,  who  traded  in  it  for  their  own  benefit,  and  who 
were,  by  such  means,  able  to  exert  that  control  over  him  which 
Tom  Pinch  had  accidentally  witnessed,  and  unconsciously 
assisted.  This  appeared  so  plain,  that  they  agreed  upon  it 
without  difficulty ;  but  instead  of  deriving  the  least  assistance 
from  this  source,  they  found  that  it  embarrassed  them  the 
more. 

They  knew  nothing  of  the  real  parties,  who  possessed  this 
power.  The  only  person  before  them  was  Tom's  landlord. 
They  had  no  right  to  question  Tom's  landlord,  even  if  the}' 
could  hnd  him,  which,  according  to  Tom's  account,  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  do.  And  granting  that  they  did  question  him, 
and  he  answered  (which  was  taking  a  good  deal  for  granted), 
he  had  only  to  say,  with  reference  to  the  adventure  on  the 
wharf,  that  he  had  been  sent  from  such  and  such  a  place  to 
summon  Jonas  back  on  urgent  business,  and  there  was  an  end 
of  it. 

Besides,  there  was  the  great  difficulty  and  responsibility  of 
moving  at  all  in  the  matter.     Lewsome's  stor}'  might  be  false  ; 


740  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  his  wretched  state  it  might  be  greatly  heightened  by  a 
diseased  brain  ;  or  admitting  it  to  be  entirely  true,  the  old 
man  might  have  died  a  natural  death.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
been  there  at  the  time  ;  as  Tom  immediately  remembered, 
when  he  came  back  in  the  afternoon,  and  shared  their  counsels  ; 
and  there  had  been  no  secrecy  about  it.  Martin's  grandfather 
was  of  right  the  person  to  decide  upon  the  course  that  should 
be  taken ;  but  to  get  at  his  views  would  be  impossible,  for 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  views  were  certain  to  be  his.  And  the  nature 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  views  in  reference  to  his  own  son-in-law, 
might  be  easily  reckoned  upon. 

Apart  from  these  considerations,  Martin  could  not  endure 
the  thought  of  seeming  to  grasp  at  this  unnatural  charge 
against  his  relative,  and  using  it  as  a  stepping-stone  to  his 
grandfather's  favor.  But,  that  he  would  seem  to  do  so,  if  he 
presented  himself  before  his  grandfather  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
house  again,  for  the  purpose  of  declaring  it  ;  and  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  of  all  men,  would  represent  his  conduct  in  that 
despicable  light,  he  perfectly  well  knew.  On  the  other  hand, 
to-be  in  possession  of  such  a  statement,  and  take  no  measures 
of  further  inquiry  in  reference  to  it,  was  tantamount  to  being 
a  partner  in  the  guilt  it  professed  to  disclose. 

In  a  word,  they  were  wholly  unable  to  discover  any  outlet 
from  this  maze  of  difficulty,  which  did  not  lie  through  some 
perplexed  and  entangled  thicket.  And  although  Mr.  Tapley 
was  promptly  taken  into  their  confidence  ;  and  the  fertile 
imagination  of  that  gentleman  suggested  many  bold  expedients, 
which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  was  quite  ready  to  carry  into 
instant  operation  on  his  own  personal  responsibility ;  still, 
'bating  the  general  zeal  of  Mr.  Tapley's  nature,  nothing  was 
made  particularly  clearer  by  these  offers  of  service. 

It  was  in  this  position  of  affairs  that  Tom's  account  of  the 
strange  behavior  of  the  decayed  clerk,  on  the  night  of  the  tea- 
party,  became  of  great  moment,  and  finally  convinced  them 
that  to  arrive  at  a  more  accurate  knowledge  of  the  workings 
of  that  old  man's  mind  and  memory,  would  be  to  take  a  most 
important  stride  in  their  pursuit  of  the  truth.  So,  having  first 
satisfied  themselves  that  no  communication  had  ever  taken 
place  between  Lewsome  and  Mr.  Chuffey  (which  would  have 
accounted  at  once  for  any  suspicion  the  latter  might  enter- 
tain), they  unanimously  resolved  that  the  old  clerk  was  the 
rnan  they  wanted. 

But,  lik»  the  unanimous   resolution  of  a  public  meeting, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


741 


which  will  oftentimes  declare  that  this  or  that  grievance  is  not 
to  be  borne  a  moment  longer,  which  is  nevertheless  borne  for 
a  centur}^  or  two  afterwards,  without  any  modification,  the}' only 
reached  in  this  the  conclusion  that  they  were  all  of  one  mind. 
For,  it  was  one  thing  to  want  Mr.  Chuff ey,  and  another  thing 
to  get  at  him  ;  and  to  do  that  without  alarming  him,  or  without 
alarming  Jonas,  or  without  being  discomfited  by  the  difficulty 
of  striking,  in  an  instrument  so  out  of  tune  and  so  unused, 
the  note  they  sought,  was  an  end  as  far  from  their  reach  as 
ever. 

The  question  then  became,  who  of  those  about  the  old 
clerk  had  had  most  influence  with  him  that  night  ?  Tom  said 
his  young  mistress  clearly.  But  Tom  and  all  of  them  shrunk 
from  the  thought  of  entrapping  her,  and  making  her  the  inno- 
cent means  of  bringing  retribution  on  her  cruel  husband. 
Was  there  nobody  else  .-•  Why  yes.  In  a  very  different  way, 
Tom  said,  he  was  influenced  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  the  nurse,  who 
had  once  had  the  control  of  him,  as  he  understood  for  some 
time. 

They  caught  at  this  immediately.  Here  was  a  new  way  out, 
developed  in  a  quarter  until  then  overlooked.  John  Westlock 
knew  Mrs.  Gamp ;  he  had  given  her  employment ;  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  her  place  of  residence,  for  that  good  lady  had 
obligingly  furnished  him,  at  parting,  with  a  pack  of  her  pro- 
fessional cards  for  general  distribution.  It  was  decided  that 
Mrs.  Gamp  should  be  approached  with  caution,  but  approached 
without  delay  ;  and  that  the  depths  of  that  discreet  matron's 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Chuffey,  and  means  of  bringing  them  or 
one  of  them,  into  communication  with  him,  should  be  care- 
fully sounded. 

On  this  service,  Martin  and  John  Westlock  determined  to 
proceed  that  night  ;  waiting  on  Mrs.  Gamp  first,  at  her  lodg- 
ings, and  taking  their  chance  of  finding  her  in  the  repose  of 
private  life,  or  of  having  to  seek  her  out,  elsewhere,  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  her  professional  duties.  Tom  returned  home,  that 
he  might  lose  no  opportunity  of  having  an  interview  with 
Nadgett,  by  being  absent  in  the  event  of  his  reappearance. 
And  Mr.  Tapley  remained  (by  his  own  particular  desire)  for 
the  time  being  in  Furnixal's  Inn,  to  look  after  Lewsome  ;  who 
might  safely  have  been  left  to  himself,  however,  for  any  thought 
he  seemed  to  entertain  of  giving  them  the  slip. 

Before  they  parted  on  their  several  errands,  they  caused 
him  to  read   aloud,  in  the  presence  of  them   all,  the  papei 


742  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

which  he  had  about  him,  and  the  declaration  he  had  attached 
to  it,  which  was  to  the  effect,  that  he  had  written  it  voluntarily, 
in  the  fear  of  death  and  in  the  torture  of  his  mind.  And 
when  he  had  done  so,  they  all  signed  it,  and  taking  it  from 
him,  of  his  free  will  locked  it  in  a  place  of  safety. 

Martin  also  wrote,  by  John's  advice,  a  letter  to  the  trus- 
tees of  the  famous  Grammar  School,  boldly  claiming  the  suc- 
cessful design  as  his,  and  charging  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  the 
fraud  he  had  committed.  In  this  proceeding  also,  John  was 
hotly  interested  :  observing  with  his  usual  irreverence,  that 
Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  a  successful  rascal  all  his  life  through, 
and  that  it  would  be  a  lasting  source  of  happiness  to  him 
(John)  if  he  could  help  to  do  him  justice  in  the  smallest  par- 
ticular. 

A  busy  day  !  But  Martin  had  no  lodgings  yet ;  so  when 
these  matters  were  disposed  of,  he  excused  himself  from  din- 
ing with  John  Westlock  and  was  fain  to  wander  out  alone, 
and  look  for  some.  He  succeeded,  after  great  trouble,  in  en- 
gaging two  garrets  for  himself  and  Mark,  situated  in  a  court 
in  the  Strand,  not  far  from  Temple  Bar.  Their  luggage, 
which  was  waiting  for  them  at  a  coach-office,  he  conveyed  to 
this  new  place  of  refuge  ;  and  it  was  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction, 
which  as  a  selfish  man  he  never  could  have  known  and  never 
had,  that,  thinking  how  much  pains  and  trouble  he  had  saved 
Mark,  and  how  pleased  and  astonished  Mark  would  be.  he 
afterwards  walked  up  and  down,  in  the  Temple,  eating  a  meat- 
pie  for  his  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 


IN  WHICH    MRS.  HARRIS,  ASSISTED    BY  A   TEAPOT,  IS    THE    CAUSE 
OF  A  DIVISION  BETWEEN  FRIENDS. 

Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  in  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Hol- 
born,  wore,  metaphorically  speaking,  a  robe  of  state.  It  was 
swept  and  garnished  for  the  reception  of  a  visitor.  That 
visitor  was  Betsey  Prig :  Mrs.  Prig,  of  Bartlemy's,  or  as  some 
said  Barklemy's,  or  as  some  said  Bardlemy's  :  for  by  all  these 
endearing  and  familiar  appellations,  had  the  hospital  of  Saint 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  743 

Bartholomew  become  a  household  word  among  the  sisterhood 
which  Betsey  Prig  adorned. 

Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  was  not  a  spacious  one,  but,  to 
a  contented  mind,  a  closet  is  a  palace  ;  and  the  first-floor  front 
at  Mr.  Sweedlepipe's  may  have  been,  in  the  imagination  of 
Mrs.  Gamp,  a  stately  pile.  If  it  were  not  exactly  that,_  to 
restless  intellects,  it  at  least  comprised  as  much  accommodation 
as  any  person,  not  sanguine  to  insanity,  could  have  looked 
for  in  a  room  of  its  dimensions.  For  only  keep  the  bedstead 
always  in  your  mind,  and  you  were  safe.  That  was  the 
grand  secret.  Remembering  the  bedstead  you  might  even 
stoop  to  look  under  the  little  round  table  for  anything  you 
had  dropped,  without  hurting  yourself  much  against  the  chest 
of  drawers,  or  qualifying  as  a  patient  of  Saint  Bartholomew, 
by  falling  into  the  fire. 

Visitors  were  much  assisted  in  their  cautious  efforts  to  pre- 
serve an  unflagging  recollection  of  this  piece  of  furniture,  by 
its  size,  which  was  great.  It  was  not  a  turn-up  bedstead,  nor 
yet  a  French  bedstead,  nor  yet  a  four-post  bedstead,  but  what 
is  poetically  called  a  tent  :  the  sacking  whereof,  was  low  and 
bulgy,  insomuch  that  Mrs.  Gamp's  box  would  not  go  under  it, 
but  stopped  half  way,  in  a  manner  which  while  it  did  violence 
to  reason,  likewise  endangered  the  legs,  of  a  stranger.  The 
frame  too,  which  would  have  supported  the  canopy  and  hang- 
ings if  there  had  been  any,  was  ornamented  with  divers  pip- 
pins carved  in  timber,  which  on  the  slightest  provocation,  and 
frequently  on  none  at  all,  came  tumbling  down ;  harassing  the 
peaceful  guest  with  inexplicable  terrors. 

The  bed  itself  was  decorated  with  a  patchwork  quilt  of 
great  Antiquity  ;  and  at  the  upper  end,  upon  tlie  side  nearest 
to  the  door,  hung  a  scanty  curtain  of  blue  check,  which  pre- 
vented the  Zephyrs  that  were  abroad  in  Kingsgate  Street,  from 
visiting  Mrs.  Gamp's  head  too  roughly.  Some  rusty  gowns 
and  other  articles  of  that  lady's  wardrobe  depended  from  the 
posts  ;  and  these  had  so  adapted  themselves  by  long  usage  to 
her  figure,  that  more  than  one  impatient  husband  coming  in 
precipitately,  at  about  the  time  of  twilight,  had  been  for  an 
instant  stricken  dumb  by  the  supposed  discovery  that  Mrs. 
Gamp  had  hanged  herself.  One  gentleman,  coming  on  the  usual 
hasty  errand,  had  said  indeed,  that  they  looked  like  guardian 
angels  "  watching  of  her  in  her  sleep."  But  that,  as  Mrs. 
Gamp  said,  "was  his  first  ;"  and  he  never  repeated  the  senti- 
ment, though  he  often  repeated  his  visit. 


^44  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

The  chairs  in  Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  were  extremely  large 
and  broad-backed,  which  was  more  than  a  sufficient  reason  for 
there  being  but  two  in  number.  They  were  both  elbow-chairs, 
of  ancient  mahogany ;  and  were  chiefly  valuable  for  the  slip- 
pery nature  of  their  seats,  which  had  been  originally  horse- 
hair, but  were  now  covered  with  a  shiny  substance  of  a  bluish 
tint,  from  which  the  visitor  began  to  slide  away  with  a  dis- 
mayed countenance,  immediately  after  sitting  down.  What 
Mrs.  Gamp  wanted  in  chairs  she  made  up  in  bandboxes  ;  of 
which  she  had  a  great  collection,  devoted  to  the  reception  of 
various  miscellaneous  valuables,  which  were  not,  however,  as 
well  protected  as  the  good  woman,  by  a  pleasant  fiction, 
seemed  to  think  ;  for,  though  every  bandbox  had  a  carefully 
closed  lid,  not  one  among  them  had  a  bottom  :  owing  to 
which  cause,  the  property  within  was  merely,  as  it  were,  ex- 
tinguished. The  chest  of  drawers  having  been  originally 
made  to  stand  upon  the  top  of  another  chest,  had  a  dwarfish, 
elfin  look,  alone  ;  but,  in  regard  of  its  security  it  had  a  great 
advantage  over  the  bandboxes,  for  as  all  the  handles  had 
been  long  ago  pulled  off,  it  was  ver}^  difficult  to  get  at  its  con- 
tents. This  indeed  was  only  to  be  done  by  one  of  two  devices  ; 
either  by  tilting  the  whole  structure  forward  until  all  the 
drawers  fell  out  together,  or  by  opening  them  singly  with 
knives,  like  oysters. 

Mrs.  Gamp  stored  all  her  household  matters  in  a  little  cup- 
board by  the  fireplace  ;  beginning  below  the  surface  (as  in 
nature)  with  the  coals,  and  mounting  gradually  upwards  to  the 
spirits,  which,  from  motives  of  delicacy,  she  kept  in  a  tea-pot. 
The  chimney-piece  was  ornamented  with  a  small  almanac, 
marked  here  and  there  in  Mrs.  Gamp's  own  hand,  with  a 
memorandum  of  the  date  at  which  some  lady  was  expected  to 
fall  due.  It  was  also  embellished  with  three  profiles  :  one,  in 
colors,  of  Mrs.  Gamp  herself  in  early  life  ;  one,  in  bronze,  of 
a  lady  in  feathers,  supposed  to  be  Mrs.  Harris,  as  she  ap- 
peared when  dressed  for  a  ball ;  and  one,  in  black,  of  Mr. 
Gamp,  deceased.  The  last  was  a  full  length,  in  order  that  the 
likeness  might  be  rendered  more  obvious  and  forcible,  by  the 
introductiton  of  the  wooden  leg. 

A  pair  of  bellows,  a  pair  of  pattens,  a  toasting-fork,  a 
kettle,  a  pap-boat,  a  spoon  for  the  administration  of  medicine 
to  the  refractory,  and  lastly,  Mrs.  Gamp's  umbrella,  which  as 
something  of  great  price  and  rarity  was  displayed  with  par 
ticular  ostentation,  completed  the  decorations  of  the  chimney- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


745 


piece  and  adjacent  wall.  Towards  these  objects,  Mrs.  Gamp 
raised  her  eyes  in  satisfaction  when  she  had  arranged  the  tea- 
board,  and  had  concluded  her  arrangements  for  the  reception 
of  Betsey  Prig,  even  unto  the  setting  forth  of  two  joounds  of 
Newcastle  salmon,  intensely  pickled. 

"  There  !  Now  drat  you,  Betsey,  don't  be  long  !  "  said 
Mrs,  Gamp,  apostrophizing  her  absent  friend.  "  For  I  can't 
abear  to  wait,  I  do  assure  you.  To  wotever  place  I  goes,  I 
sticks  to  this  one  mortar.  '  I'm  easy  pleased  ;  it  is  but  little  as 
I  wants  ;  but  I  must  have  that  little  of  the  best,  and  to  the 
minute  when  the  clock  strikes,  else  we  do  not  part  as  I  could 
wish,  but  bearin'  malice  in  our  arts.'  " 

Her  own  preparations  were  of  the  best,  for  they  compre- 
hended a  delicate  new  loaf,  a  plate  of  fresh  butter,  a  basin  of 
fine  white  sugar,  and  other  arrangements  on  the  same  scale. 
Even  the  snuff  with  which  she  now  refreshed  herself,  was  so 
choice  in  quaUty,  that  she  took  a  second  pinch. 

"There's  the  little  bell  a  ringing  now,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
hurrying  to  the  stairhead  and  looking  over.  "  Betsey  Prig, 
my — why  it's  that  there  disapintin'  Sweedlepipes,  I  do  believe." 

"  Yes,  it's  me,"  said  the  barber  in  a  faint  voice  ;  "I've 
just  come  in." 

"  You're  always  a  comin'  in,  I  think,"  muttered  Mrs. 
Gamp  to  herself,  "  except  wen  you're  a-going  out.  I  ha'n't  no 
patience  with  that  man  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  the  barber.     "  I  say  !  Mrs.  Gamp  !  " 

"Well,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  impatiently,  as  she  descended 
the  stairs.  "  What  is  it .''  Is  the  Thames  a-fire,  and  cooking 
its  own  fish,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  ?  Why  wot's  the  man  gone 
and  been  a-doin'  of  to  himself .''     Pie's  as  white  as  chalk  !  " 

She  added  the  latter  clause  of  inquiry,  when  she  got  down 
stairs,  and  found  him  seated  in  the  shaving-chair,  pale  and 
disconsolate. 

"You  recollect,"  said  Poll.     "  You  recollect  young — " 

"Not  young  Wilkins  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "Don't  say 
young  Wilkins,  wotever  you  do.  If  young  Wilkins's  wife  is 
took—" 

"  It  isn't  anybody's  wife,"  exclaimed  the  little  barber. 
"  Bailey,  young  Bailey  !  " 

"  Why,  wot  do  you  mean  to  say  that  chit's  been  a-doin' 
of  ?  "  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp,  sharply.  "  Stuff  and  nonsense, 
Mr.  Sweedlepipes  ! " 

"  He  hasn't  been  a-doing  anything  !  "  exclaimed  poor  Poll, 


746  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

quite  desperate.  "  What  do  you  catch  me  up  so  short  for 
when  you  see  me  put  out,  to  that  extent,  that  I  can  hardly 
speak  ?  He'll  never  do  anything  again.  He's  done  for.  He's 
killed.  The  first  time  I  ever  see  that  boy,"  said  Poll,  "  I 
charged  him  too  much  for  a  red-poll.  I  asked  him  three-half- 
pence for  a  penny  one,  because  I  was  afraid  he'd  beat  me 
down.  But  he  didn't.  And  now  he's  dead  ;  and  if  you  was 
to  crowd  all  the  steam-engines  and  electric  fluids  that  ever 
was,  into  this  shop,  and  set  'em  every  one  to  work  their  hard- 
est, they  couldn't  square  the  account,  though  it's  only  a 
ha'penny  !  " 

Mr.  Sweedlepipe  turned  aside  to  the  towel,  and  wiped  his 
eyes  with  it. 

"  And  what  a  clever  boy  he  was  !  "  he  said.  "  What  a 
surprising  young  chap  he  was  !  How  he  talked  !  and  what  a 
deal  he  know'd  !  Shaved  in  this  very  chair  he  was  ;  only  for 
fun  ;  it  was  all  his  fun  ;  he  was  full  of  it.  Ah  !  to  think  that 
he'll  never  be  shaved  in  earnest !  The  birds  might  every  one 
have  died,  and  welcome,"  cried  the  little  barber,  looking  round 
him  at  the  cages,  and  again  applying  to  the  towel,  "  sooner 
than  I'd  have  heard  this  news !  " 

"  How  did  you  ever  come  to  hear  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

"I  went  out,"  returned  the  little  barber,  "into  the  City, 
to  meet  a  sporting  Gent,  upon  the  Stock  Exchange,  that 
wanted  a  few  slow  pigeons  to  practice  at;  and  when  I'd  done 
with  him,  I  went  to  get  a  little  drop  of  beer,  and  there  I  heard 
everybody  a-talking  about  it.     It's  in  the  papers." 

"  You  are  in  a  nice  state  of  confugion,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes, 
you  are  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  head ;  "  and  my 
opinion  is,  as  half-a-dudgeon  fresh  young  lively  leeches  on 
your  temples,  wouldn't  be  too  much  to  clear  your  mind, 
which  so  I  tell  you.  Wot  were  they  a-talkin'  on,  and  wot  was 
in  the  papers  ?  " 

"  All  about  it !  "  cried  the  barber.  "  What  else  do  you 
suppose  ?  Him  and  his  master  were  upset  on  a  journey,  and 
he  was  carried  to  Salisbury,  and  was  breathing  his  last  when 
the  account  came  away.  He  never  spoke  afterwards.  Not  a 
single  word.  That's  the  worst  of  it  to  me  ;  but  that  ain't  all. 
His  master  can't  be  found.  The  other  manager  of  their  office  in 
the  city — Crimple,  David  Crimple— has  gone  off  with  the  money, 
and  is  advertised  for,  with  a  reward,  upon  the  walls.  Mr. 
Montague,  poor  young  Bailey's  master  (what  a  boy  he  was  !) 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  'j /^-j 

is  advertised  for,  too.  Some  say  he's  slipped  off,  to  join  his 
friend  abroad  ;  some  say  he  mayn't  have  got  away  yet  ;  and 
they're  looking  for  him  high  and  low.  Their  office  is  a 
smash  ;  a  swindle  altogether.  But  what's  a  Life  Assurance 
Office  to  a  Life  !     And  what  a  Life  Young  Bailey's  was  !  " 

"  He  was  born  into  a  wale,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  philo- 
sophical coolness  ;  "  and  he  lived  in  a  wale  :  and  he  must  take 
the  consequences  of  sech  a  sitiwation.  But  don't  you  hear 
nothink  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  all  this  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Poll,  "  nothing  to  speak  of.  His  name  w^asn't 
printed  as  one  of  the  board,  though  some  people  say  it  was 
just  going  to  be.  Some  believe  he  was  took  in,  and  some 
believe  he  was  one  of  the  takers-in  ;  but  however  that  may  be, 
they  can't  prove  nothing  against  him.  This  morning  he  went 
up  of  his  own  accord  afore  the  Lord  Mayor  or  some  of  them 
City  big-wigs,  and  complained  that  he'd  been  swindled,  and 
that  these  two  persons  had  gone  off  and  cheated  him,  and 
that  he  had  just  found  out  that  Montague's  name  wasn't  even 
Montague,  but  something  else.  And  they  do  say  that  he 
looked  like  Death,  owing  to  his  losses.  But,  Lord  forgive 
me,"  cried  the  barber,  coming  back  again  to  the  subject  of  his 
individual  grief,  "  what's  his  looks  to  me  !  He  might  have 
died  and  welcome,  fifty  times,  and  not  been  such  a  loss  as 
Bailey !  " 

At  this  juncture  the  little  bell  rang,  and  the  deep  voice  of 
Mrs.  Prig  struck  into  the  conversation. 

"  Oh !  You're  a-talkin'  about  it,  are  you !  "  observed  that 
lady.  "  Well,  I  hope  you've  got  it  over,  for  I  ain't  interested 
in  it  myself." 

"  My  precious  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  how  late  you 
are  !" 

The  worthy  Mrs.  Prig  replied,  with  some  asperity,  "  that  if 
perwerse  people  went  off  dead,  when  they  was  least  expected, 
it  warn't  no  fault  of  her'n."  And  further,  "  that  it  was  quite 
aggrawation  enough  to  be  made  late  when  one  was  dropping 
for  one's  tea,  without  hearing  on  it  again." 

Mrs.  Gamp,  deriving  from  this  exhibition  of  repartee  some 
clue  to  the  state  of  Mrs.  Prig's  feelings,  instantly  conducted 
her  up  stairs,  deeming  that  the  sight  of  pickled  salmon  might 
work  a  softening  change. 

But  Betsey  Prig  expected  pickled  salmon.  It  was  ob- 
vious that  she  did  ;  for  her  first  words,  after  glancing  at  the 
table,  were  : 


748 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  I  know'd  she  wouldn't  have  a  coucumber  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  changed  color,  and  sat  down  upon  the  bed- 
stead. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Betsey  Prig,  your  words  is  true.  I  quite 
forgot  it ! " 

Mrs.  Prig,  looking  steadfastly  at  her  friend,  put  her  hand 
in  her  pocket,  and,  with  an  air  of  surly  triumph  drew  forth 
either  the  oldest  of  lettuces  or  youngest  of  cabbages,  but  at 
any  rate,  a  green  vegetable  of  an  expansive  nature,  and  of 
such  magnificent  proportions  that  she  was  obliged  to  shut  it 
up  like  an  umbrella  before  she  could  pull  it  out.  She  also 
produced  a  handful  of  mustard  and  cress,  a  trifle  of  the  herb 
called  dandelion,  three  bunches  of  radishes,  an  onion  rather 
larger  than  an  average  turnip,  three  substantial  slices  of  beet' 
root,  and  a  short  prong  or  antler  of  celery ;  the  whole  of  this 
garden-stuff  having  been  publicly  exhibited,  but  a  short  time 
before,  as  a  twopenny  salad,  and  purchased  by  Mrs.  Prig,  on 
condition  that  the  vendor  could  get  it  all  into  her  pocket. 
Which  had  been  happily  accomplished,  in  High  Holborn,  to 
the  breathless  interest  of  a  hackney-coach  stand.  And  she 
laid  so  little  stress  on  this  surprising  forethought,  that  she  did 
not  even  smile,  but  returning  her  pocket  into  its  accustomed 
sphere,  merely  recommended  that  these  productions  of  nature 
should  be  sliced  up,  for  immediate  consumption,  in  plenty  of 
vinegar. 

"  And  don't  go  a  dropping  none  of  your  snuff  in  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Prig.  "  In  gruel,  barley-water,  apple-tea,  mutton-broth, 
and  that,  it  don't  signify.  It  stimilates  a  patient.  But  I  don't 
relish  it  myself." 

"  Why,  Betsey  Prig !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  how  ca7i  you 
talk  so !  " 

"  \\'hy,  ain't  your  patients,  wotever  their  diseases  is,  al- 
ways a  sneezin'  their  wery  heads  off,  along  of  your  snuff.'"' 
said  Mrs.  Prig. 

"  And  wot  if  they  are  ! "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Nothing  if  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Prig.  "  But  don't  deny 
it,  Sairah." 

"  Who  deniges  of  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  inquired. 

Mrs.  Prig  returned  no  answer. 

"  Who  deniges  of  it,  Betsey?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  inquired  again. 
Then  Mrs.  Gamp,  by  reversing  the  question,  imparted  a  deeper 
and  more  awful  character  of  solemnity  to  the  same.  "  Betsey, 
who  denizes  of  it .-'  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


749 


It  was  the  nearest  possible  approach  to  a  very  decided 
difference  of  opinion  between  these  ladies  ;  but  Mrs.  Prig's 
impatience  for  the  meal  being  greater  at  the  moment  than 
her  impatience  of  contradiction,  she  replied,  for  the  present, 
"  Nobody,  if  you  don't,  Sairah,"  and  prepared  herself  for  tea. 
For  a  quarrel  can  be  taken  up  at  any  time,  but  a  limited 
quantity  of  salmon  cannot. 

Her  toilet  was  simple.  She  had  merely  to  "  chuck  "  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  upon  the  bed,  give  her  hair  two  pulls,  one 
upon  the  right  side  and  one  upon  the  left,  as  if  she  were  ring- 
ing a  couple  of  bells,  and  all  was  done.  The  tea  was  already 
made,  Mrs.  Gamp  was  not  long  over  the  salad,  and  they  were 
soon  at  the  height  of  their  repast. 

The  temper  of  both  parties  was  improved,  for  the  time 
being,  by  the  enjoyments  of  the  table.  When  the  meal  came 
to  a  termination  (which  it  was  pretty  long  in  doing),  and  Mrs. 
Gamp  having  cleared  away,  produced  the  tea-pot  from  the 
top-shelf,  simultaneously  with  a  couple  of  wine-glasses,  they 
were  quite  amiable. 

"  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  filling  her  own  glass,  and 
passing  the  tea-pot,  "  I  will  now  propoge  a  toast.  My  fre- 
quent pardner,  Betsey  Prig  !  " 

"VVhich,  altering  the  name  to  Sairah  Gamp;  I  drink," 
said  Mrs.  Prig,  "  with  love  and  tenderness." 

From  this  moment  symptonis  of  inflammation  began  to 
lurk  in  the  nose  of  each  lady  ;  and  perhaps,  notwithstanding 
all  appearances  to  the  contrary,  in  the  temper  also. 

"Now,  Sairah,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  "  joining  business  with 
pleasure,  wot  is  this  case  in  which  you  wants  me  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  betraying  in  her  face  some  intention  of  return- 
ing an  evasive  answer,  Betsey  added  : 

"/j-  it  Mrs.  Harris  !  " 

"  No,  Betsey  Prig,  it  ain't,"  was  Mrs.  Gamp's  reply. 

"  Well ! "  said  Mrs.  Prig,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I'm  glad 
of  that,  at  any  rate." 

"Why  should  you  be  glad  of  that,  Betsey?"  Mrs.  Gamp 
retorted,  warmly.  "  She  is  unbeknown  to  you  except  by  hear- 
say, why  should  you  be  glad?  If  you  have  anythink  to  say 
contrairy  to  the  character  of  Mrs.  Harris,  which  well  I  knows 
behind  her  back,  afore  her  face,  or  anywheres,  is  not  to  be 
impeaged,  out  with  it,  Betsey.  I  have  know'd  that  sweetest 
and  best  of  women,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  head,  and 
shedding  tears,  "  ever  since  afore  her  First,  which  Mr.  Harris 


750  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

who  was  dreadful  timid  went  and  stopped  his  ears  in  a  empty 
dog-kennel,  and  never  took  his  hands  away  or  come  out  once 
till  he  was  showed  the  baby,  wen  bein'  took  with  fits,  the 
doctor  collared  him  and  laid  him  on  his  back  upon  the  airy 
stones,  and  she  was  told  to  ease  her  mind,  his  owls  was  or- 
gans. And  I  have  know'd  her,  Betsey  Prig,  when  he  has  hurt 
her  feelin'  art  by  sayin'  of  his  Ninth  that  it  was  one  too  many, 
if  not  two,  while  that  dear  innocent  was  cooin'  in  his  face, 
which  thrive  it  did  though  bandy,  but  I  have  never  know'd  as 
you  had  occagion  to  be  glad,  Betsey,  on  accounts  of  Mrs. 
Harris  not  requiring  you.  Require  she  never  will,  depend 
upon  it,  for  her  constant  words  in  sickness  is,  and  will  be, 
'  Send  for  Sairey  ! '  " 

During  this  touching  address,  Mrs.  Prig  adroitly  feigning 
to  be  the  victim  of  that  absence  of  mind  which  has  its  origin 
in  excessive  attention  to  one  topic,  helped  herself  from  the 
tea-pot  without  appearing  to  observe  it.  Mrs.  Gamp  observed 
it,  however,  and  came  to  a  premature  close  in  consequence. 

"  Well  it  ain't  her,  it  seems,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  coldly  :  "who 
is  it  then  .?  " 

"  You  have  heerd  me  mention,  Betsey,"  Mrs.  Gamp  re- 
plied, after  glancing  in  an  expressive  and  marked  manner  at 
the  tea-pot,  "  a  person  as  I  took  care  on  at  the  time  as  you 
and  me  was  pardners  off  and  on,  in  that  there  fever  at  the 
Bull.?" 

"  Old  Snuffey,"  Mrs.  Prig  observed. 

Sarah  Gamp  looked  at  her  with  an  eye  of  fire,  for  she  saw 
in  this  mistake  of  Mrs.  Prig,  another  wilful  and  malignant 
stab  at  that  same  weakness  or  custom  of  hers,  an  ungenerous 
allusion  to  which,  on  the  part  of  Betsey,  had  first  disturbed 
their  harmony  that  evening.  And  she  saw  it  still  more 
clearly,  when,  politely  but  firmly  correcting  that  lady  by  the 
distinct  enunciation  of  the  word  "Chuffey,"  Mrs.  Prig  received 
the  correction  with  a  diabolical  laugh. 

The  best  among  us  have  their  failings,  and  it  must  be  con- 
ceded of  Mrs.  Prig,  that  if  there  were  a  blemish  in  the  good 
ness  of  her  disposition,  it  was  a  habit  she  had  of  not  bestow- 
ing all  its  sharp  and  acid  properties  upon  her  patients  (as  a 
thoroughly  amiable  woman  would  have  done),  but  of  keeping 
a  considerable  remainder  for  the  service  of  her  friends. 
Highly  pickled  salmon,  and  lettuces  chopped  up  in  vinegar, 
may,  as  viands  possessing  some  acidity  of  their  own,  have  en- 
couraged and  increased  this  failing  in  Mrs.  Prig ;  and  every 


AIARTLV  CHUZZLEWIT. 


751 


application  to  the  tea-pot,  certainly  did  ;  for  it  was  often  re- 
marked of  her  by  her  friends,  that  she  was  most  contradictory 
when  most  elevated.  It  is  certain  that  her  countenance 
became  about  this  time  derisive  and  defiant,  and  that  she  sat 
with  her  arms  folded,  and  one  eye  shut  up,  in  a  somewhat 
offensive,  because  obtrusively  intelligent,  manner. 

Mrs.  Gamp  observing  this,  felt  it  the  more  necessary  that 
Mrs.  Prig  should  know  her  place,  and  be  made  sensible  of  her 
exact  station  in  society,  as  well  as  of  her  obligations  to  her- 
self. She  therefore  assumed  an  air  of  greater  patronage  and 
importance,  as  she  went  on  to  answer  Mrs.  Prig  a  little  more 
in  detail. 

"  Mr.  Chuffey,  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  weak  in  his 
mind.  Excuge  me  if  I  makes  remark,  that  he  may  neither  be 
so  weak  as  people  thinks,  nor  people  may  not  think  he  is  so 
weak  as  they  pretends,  and  what  I  knows,  I  knows ;  and 
what  you  don't,  you  don't ;  so  do  not  ask  me,  Betsey.  But 
Mr.  Chuffey's  friends  has  made  propojals  for  his  bein'  took 
care  on,  and  has  said  to  me,  '  Mrs.  Gamp,  will  you  undertake 
it  .-•  We  couldn't  think,'  they  says,  '  of  trusting  him  to  nobody 
but  you,  for,  Sairey,  you  are  gold  as  has  passed  the  furnage. 
Will  you  undertake  it,  at  your  own  price,  day  and  night,  and 
by  your  own  self  ? '  '  No,'  I  says,  '  I  will  not.  Do  not  reckon 
on  it.  There  is,'  I  says,  'but  one  creetur  in  the  world  as  I 
would  undertake  on  sech  terms,  and  her  name  is  Harris. 
But,'  I  says,  '  I  am  acquainted  with  a  friend,  whose  name  is 
Betsey  Prig,  that  I  can  recommend,  and  will  assist  me.  Bet- 
sey,' I  says,  '  is  always  to  be  trusted,  under  me,  and  will  be 
guided  as  I  could  desire.'  " 

Here  Mrs.  Prig,  without  any  abatement  of  her  offensive 
manner,  again  counterfeited  abstraction  of  mind,  and  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  the  tea-pot.  It  was  more  than  Mrs.  Gamp 
could  bear.  She  stopped  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Prig  with  her  own, 
and  said,  with  great  feeling :  ^ 

"  No,  Betsey  !     Drink  fair,  wotever  you  do  !  " 

Mrs.  Prig,  thus  baffled,  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair, 
and  closing  the  same  eye  more  emphatically,  and  folding  her 
arms  tighter,  suffered  her  head  to  roll  slowly  from  side  to 
.side,  while  she  surveyed  her  friend  with  a  contemptuous 
smile. 

Mrs.  Gamp  resumed  : 

"  Mrs.  Harris,  Betsey — " 

"  Bother  Mrs.  Harris  !  "  said  Betsey  Prig. 


752 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Mrs.  Gamp  looked  at  her  with  amazement,  incredulity, 
and  indignation;  when  Mrs.  Prig,  shutting  her  eye  still  closer, 
and  folding  her  arms  still  tighter,  uttered  these  memorable 
and  tremendous  words  : 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  no  sich  a  person  !  " 

After  the  utterance  of  which  expressions,  she  leaned  for- 
ward, and  snapped  her  fingers  once,  twice,  thrice  ;  each  time 
nearer  to  the  face  of  Mrs.  Gamp,  and  then  rose  to  put  on  her 
bonnet,  as  one  who  felt  that  there  was  now  a  gulf  between 
them,  which  nothing  could  ever  bridge  across. 

The  shock  of  this  blow  was  so  violent  and  sudden,  that 
Mrs.  Gamp  sat  stari;ig  at  nothing  with  uplifted  eyes,  and  her 
mouth  open  as  if  she  were  gasping  for  breath,  until  Betsey 
Prig  had  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  was  gathering  the 
latter  about  her  throat.  Then  Mrs.  Gamp  rose — morally  and 
physically  rose — and  denounced  her. 

"What!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "you  bage  creetur,  have  1 
know'd  Mrs.  Harris  five  and  thirty  year,  to  be  told  at  last  that 
there  ain't  no  sech  a  person  livin' !  Have  I  stood  her  friend 
in  all  her  troubles,  great  and  small,  for  it  to  come  at  last  to 
sech  a  end  as  this,  which  her  own  sweet  picter  hanging  up 
afore  you  all  the  time,  to  shame  your  Bragian  words  !  But 
well  you  mayn't  believe  there's  no  sech  a  creetur,  for  she 
wouldn't  demean  herself  to  look  at  you,  and  often  has  she 
said,  when  I  have  made  mention  of  your  name,  which,  to  my 
sinful  sorrow,  I  have  done,  '  What,  Sairey  Gamp  !  debage 
yourself  to  her  T     Go  along  with  you  !  " 

"I'm  a  goin',  ma'am,  ain't  I?"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  stopping 
as  she  said  it. 

"  You  had  better,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Do  you  know  who  you're  talking  to,  ma'am  ?  "  inquired 
her  visitor. 

"  Aperiently,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  surveying  her  with  scorn 
from  head  to  foot,  "to  Betsey  Prig.  Aperiently  so.  /know 
her.     No  one  better.     Go  along  with  you  ! " 

"  And  yoii  was  a  going  to  take  me  under  you  !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Prig,  surveying  Mrs.  Gamp  from  head  to  foot  in  her 
turn.  "  You  was,  was  you  ?  Oh,  how  kind  !  Why,  deuce 
take  your  imperence,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  with  a  rapid  change 
from  banter  to  ferocitv,  "  what  do  vou  mean  ?  " 

"  Go  along  with  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  I  blush  for 
you." 

"You  had  better  blush   a  little  for  yourself,  while  you 


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MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 


753 


are  about  it  !  "  said  Mrs.  Prig.  "  You  and  your  Chuffeys  ! 
What,  the  poor  old  creetur  isn't  mad  enough,  isn't  he } 
Aha !  " 

"  He'd  very  soon  be  mad  enough,  if  you  had  anything  to 
do  with  him,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  And  that's  what  I  was  wanted  for,  is  it  ?  "  cried  Mrs. 
Prig,  triumphantly.  "  Yes.  But  you'll  find  yourself  deceived. 
I  won't  go  near  him.  We  shall  see  how  you  get  on  without 
me.     I  won"t  have  nothink  to  do  with  him." 

"  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word  than  that  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Gamp.     "  Go  along  with  you  !  " 

She  was  pre\'ented  from  witnessing  the  actual  retirement 
of  Mrs.  Prig  from  the  room,  notwithstanding  the  great  desire 
she  had  expressed  to  behold  it,  by  that  lady,  in  her  angry 
withdrawal,  coming  into  contact  with  the  bedstead,  and  bring- 
ing down  the  previously-mentioned  pippins  ;  three  or  four  of 
which  came  rattling  on  the  head  of  Mrs.  Gamp  so  smartly, 
that  when  she  recovered  from  this  wooden  shower-bath,  Mrs. 
Prig  was  gone. 

She  had  the  satisfaction,  however,  of  hearing  the  deep 
voice  of  Betsey,  proclaiming  her  injuries  and  her  determina- 
tion to  have  nothing  to  do  with  Mr.  Chuffey,  down  the  stairs, 
and  along  the  passage,  and  even  out  in  Kingsgate  Street. 
Likewise  of  seeing  in  her  own  apartment,  in  the  place  of 
Mrs.  Prig,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  and  two  gentlemen. 

"Why,  bless  my  life  !  "  exclaimed  the  little  barber,  "what's 
amiss?  The  noise  you  ladies  have  been  making,  Mrs.  Gamp.^ 
Wh}^  these  two  gentlemen  have  been  standing  on  the  stairs, 
outside  the  door,  nearly  all  the  time,  trying  to  make  you  hear, 
while  you  were  pelting  away,  hammer  and  tongs !  It'll  be  the 
death  of  the  little  bullfinch  in  the  shop,  that  draws  his  own 
water.  In  his  fright,  he's  been  a  straining  himself  all  to  bits, 
drawing  more  water  than  he  could  drink  in  a  twelvemonth. 
He  must  have  thought  it  was  Fire  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  in  the  meanwhile  sunk  into  her  chair, 
from  whence,  turning  up  her  overflowing  eyes,  and  clasping 
her  hands,  she  delivered  the  following  lamentation  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  which  Mr.  Westlock  also,  if  my 
eyes  do  not  deceive,  and  a  friend  not  havin'  the  pleasure  of 
bein'  beknown,  wot  I  have  took  from  Betsey  Prig  this  blessed 
night,  no  mortal  creetur  knows !  If  she  had  abuged  me, 
bein'  in  liquor,  which  I  thought  I  smelt  her  wen  she  come, 
but  could  not  so  believe,  not  bein'  used  myself " — Mrs.  Gamp, 

48 


754 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT 


by  the  way,  was  pretty  far  gone,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  tea- 
pot was  strong  in  the  room — "  I  could  have  bore  it  with  a 
thankful  art.  But  the  words  she  spoke  of  Mrs.  Harris,  lambs 
could  not  forgive.  No,  Betsey  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  violent 
burst  of  feeling,  "  nor  worms  forget !  " 

The  little  barber  scratched  his  head,  and  shook  it,  and 
looked  at  the  tea-pot,  and  gradually  got  out  of  the  room. 
John  Westlock,  taking  a  chair,  sat  down  on  one  side  of  Mrs. 
Gamp.  Martin,  taking  the  foot  of  the  bed,  supjDorted  her 
on  the  other. 

"  You  wonder  what  we  want,  I  dare  say,"  observed  John. 
"  I'll  tell  you  presently,  when  you  have  recovered.  It's  not 
pressing,  for  a  few  minutes  or  so.  How  do  you  find  yourself  ? 
Better  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  shed  more  tears,  shook  her  head  and  feebly 
pronounced  Mrs.  Harris's  name. 

"  Have  a  little — "  John  was  at  a  loss  what  to  call  it. 

"  Tea,"  suggested  Martin. 

"It  ain't  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Physic  of  some  sort,  I  suppose,"  cried  John.  "Have  a 
little." 

Mrs.  Gamp  was  prevailed  upon  to  take  a  glassful.  "  On 
copdition,''  she  passionately  observed,  "  as  Betsey  never  has 
andtlier  stroke  of  work  from  me." 

^'  Certainly  not,"  said  John.     "  She   shall   never  help   to 


nurse  w^r." 


"  To  think,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  as  she  should  ever  have 
helped  to  nuss  that  friend  of  yourn,  and  been  so  near  of  hear- 
ing things  that — Ah  !  " 

John  looked  at  Martin. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  That  was  a  narrow  escape,  Mrs. 
Gamp." 

"  Narrer,  in-deed  !  "  she  returned.  "  It  was  only  my  hav- 
ing the  night,  and  hearin'  of  him  in  his  wanderins  ;  and  her 
the  day,  that  saved  it.  Wot  would  she  have  said  and  done, 
if  she  had  know'd  what  1  know  ;  that  perfeejus  wretch  !  Yet, 
oh  good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  trampling  on  the 
floor,  in  the  absence  of  Mrs.  Prig,  "  that  I  should  hear  from 
that  same  woman's  lips  what  I  ha\'e  heerd  her  speak  of  Mrs. 
Harris  !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  John.     "  You  know  it  is  true." 

"  Isn't  true  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  True  !  Don't  I  know 
as  that  dear  woman  is  expecting  of  me  at  this   minnit,  Mr. 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  y  c;  q 

Westlock,  and  is  a  lookin'  out  of  window  down  the  street,  with 
Httle  Tommy  Harris  in  her  arms,  as  calls  me  his  own  Gammy, 
and  truly  calls,  for  bless  the  mottled  little  legs  of  that  there 
precious  child  (like  Canterbury  Brawn  his  own  dear  father 
says,  which  so  they  are)  his  own  I  have  been,  ever  since  I 
found  him,  Mr.  Westlock,  with  his  small  red  worsted  shoe  a 
gurglin'  in  his  throat,  where  he  had  put  it  in  his  play,  a  chick, 
wile  they  was  leavin'  of  him  on  the  ffoor  a  looking  for  it 
through  the  ouse  and  him  a  choakin'  sweetly  in  the  parlor ! 
Oh,  Betsey  Prig,  what  wickedness  you've  showed  this  night, 
but  never  shall  you  darken  Sairey's  doors  agen,  you  twining 
serpiant  !  " 

"  You  were  always  so  kind  to  her,  too  !  "  said  John,  con- 
solingly. 

"That's  the  cutting  part.  That's  where  it  hurts  me,  Mr. 
Westlock,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied  ;  holding  out  her  glass  uncon- 
sciously, while  Martin  filled  it. 

"  Chosen  to  help  you  with  Mr.  Lewsome  !  "  said  John. 
"  Chosen  to  help  you  with  Mr.  Chuffey !  " 

"  Chose  once,  but  chose  no  more,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  No  pardnership  with  Betsey  Prig  agen,  sir  !  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  John.     "That  would  never  do." 

"  I  don't  know  as  it  ever  would  have  done,  sir,"  Mrs. 
Gamp  replied,  with  the  solemnity  peculiar  to  a  certain  stage 
of  intoxication.  "Now  that  the  marks,"  by  which  Mrs.  Gamp 
is  supposed  to  have  meant  mask,  "  is  off  that  creatur's  face,  I 
do  not  think  it  ever  would  have  done.  There  are  reagions  in 
families  for  keeping  things  a  secret,  Mr.  Westlock,  and  havin' 
only  them  about  you  as  you  knows  you  can  repoge  in.  Who 
could  repoge  in  Betsey  Prig,  arter  her  words  of  Mrs.  Harris, 
setting  in  that  chair  afore  my  eyes  !  " 

"  Quite  true,"  said  John  ;  "  quite.  1  hope  you  have  time 
to  find  another  assistant,  Mrs.  Gamp?  " 

Between  her  indignation  and  the  tea-pot,  her  powers  of 
comprehending  what  was  said  to  her  began  to  fail.  She 
looked  at  John  with  tearful  eyes,  and  murmuring  the  well 
remembered  name  which  Mrs.  Prig  had  challenged — as  if  it 
were  a  talisman  against  all  earthly  sorrows  —  seemed  to 
wander  in  her  mind. 

"I  hope,"  repeated  John,  "that  you  have  time  to  tind 
another  assistant .?  " 

"Which  short  it  is,  indeed,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  turning  up 
her  laughing  eyes,  and  clasping  Mr.  Westlock's  wrist  with 


7S6 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


matronly  afifection.  "  To-morrow  evenin',  sir,  I  waits  upon 
his  friends.     Mr.  Cliuzzlewit  apinted  it  from  nine  to  ten." 

"  From  nine  to  ten,"  said  John,  with  a  significant  glance 
at  Martin  ;  "  and  then  Mr.  Chuffey  retires  into  safe  keeping, 
does  he  .-* " 

"  He  needs  to  be  kep  safe,  I  do  assure  you,"  Mrs.  Gamp 
replied,  with  a  mysterious  air.  "  Other  people  besides  me 
has  had  a  happy  deliverance  from  Betsey  Prig.  I  little 
know'd  that  woman.     She'd  have  let  it  out !  " 

"  Let  him  out,  you  mean,"  said  John. 

"  Do  I  !  "  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  Oh  !  " 

The  severely  ironical  character  of  this  repl}'  was  strength- 
ened by  a  very  slow  nod,  and  a  still  slower  drawing  down  of 
the  corners  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  mouth.  She  added  with  extreme 
stateliness  of  manner,  after  indulging  in  a  short  doze  : 

"  But  I  am  a  keepin'  of  you  gentlemen,  and  time  is  pre- 
cious." 

Mingling  with  that  delusion  of  the  tea-pot  which  inspired 
her  with  the  belief  that  they  wanted  her  to  go  somewhere 
immediately,  a  shrewd  avoidance  of  any  further  reference  to 
the  topics  into  which  she  had  lately  strayed,  Mrs.  Gamp  rose  ; 
and  putting  away  the  tea-pot  in  its  accustomed  place,  and 
locking  the  cupboard  with  much  gravity,  proceeded  to  attire 
herself  for  a  professional  visit. 

This  preparation  was  easily  made,  as  it  required  nothing 
more  than  the  snuffy  black  bonnet,  the  snuffy  black  shawl, 
the  pattens,  and  the  indispensable  umbrella,  without  which 
neither  a  lying-in  nor  a  laying-out  could  by  any  possibility  be 
attempted.  When  Mrs.  Gamp  had  invested  herself  with 
these  appendages  she  returned  to  her  chair,  and  sitting  down 
again,  declared  herself  quite  ready. 

"  It's  a  appiness  to  know  as  one  can  benefit  the  poor  sweet 
creetur,"  she  observed,  "  I'm  sure.  It  isn't  all  as  can.  The 
torters  Betsey  Prig  inflicts  is  frightful !  " 

Closinsf  her  eves  as  she  made  this  remark,  in  the  acute- 
ness  of  her  commiseration  for  Betsey's  patients,  she  forgot  to 
open  them  again  until  she  dropped  a  patten.  Her  nap  was 
also  broken  at  intervals,  like  the  fabled  slumbers  of  Friar 
Bacon,  by  the  dropping  of  the  other  patten,  and  of  the  um- 
brella. But  when  she  had  got  rid  of  those  incumbrances,  her 
sleep  was  peaceful. 

The  tv/o  young  men  looked  at  each  other,  ludicrously 
enough  ;  and  Martin,  stifling  his  disposition  to  laugh,  whis- 
pered in  John  Westlock's  ear. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


757 


"  What  shall  we  do  now  ?  " 

"  Stay  here,"  he  replied. 

Mrs.  Gamp  was  heard  to  murmur  "Mrs.  Harris  "  in  hei 
sleep : 

"  Rely  upon  it,"  whispered  John,  looking  cautiously  to- 
wards her,  "  that  you  shall  question  this  old  clerk,  though 
you  go  as  Mrs.  Harris  herself.  We  know  quite  enough  to 
carry  her  our  own  way  now,  at  all  events  ;  thanks  to  this  quar- 
rel, which  confirms  the  old  saying,  that  when  rogues  fall  out, 
honest  people  get  what  they  want.  Let  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  look 
to  himself ;  and  let  her  sleep  as  long  as  she  likes.  We  shall 
gain  our  end  in  good  time." 


CHAPTER  L. 

SURPRISES  TOM    PINCH  VERY  MUCH,  AND    SHOWS    HOW    CERTAIN 
CONFIDENCES    PASSED    BETWEEN    HIM    AND    HIS    SISTER. 

It  was  the  next  evening  ;  and  Tom  and  his  sister  were 
sitting  together  before  tea,  talking,  in  their  usual  quiet  way, 
about  a  great  many  things,  but  not  at  all  about  Lewsome's 
story  or  anything  connected  with  it ;  for  John  Westlock — 
really  John,  for  so  young  a  man,  was  one  of  the  most  con- 
siderate fellows  in  the  world — had  particularly  advised  Tom 
not  to  mention  it  to  his  sister  just  yet,  in  case  it  should  dis- 
quiet her.  "And  I  wouldn't,  Tom,"  he  said,  with  a  little 
hesitation,  "  I  wouldn't  have  a  shadow  on  her  happy  face,  or 
an  uneasy  thought  in  her  gentle  heart,  for  all  the  wealth  and 
honors  of  the  universe  !  "  Really  John  was  uncommonly 
kind  ;  extraordinarily  kind.  If  he  had  been  her  father,  Tom 
said,  he  could  not  have  taken  a  greater  interest  in  her. 

But  although  Tom  and  his  sister  were  extremely  conversa- 
tional, they  were  less  lively,  and  less  cheerful,  than  usual. 
Tom  had  no  idea  that  this  originated  with  Ruth,  but  took  it 
for  granted  that  he  was  rather  dull  himself.  In  truth  he  was  ; 
for  the  lightest  cloud  upon  the  Heaven  of  her  quiet  mind, 
cast  its  shadow  upon  Tom. 

And  there  was  a  cloud  on  little  Ruth  that  evening.  Yes, 
indeed.     When  Tom  was  looking  in   another  direction,  her 


758  MA  R  TIN  C NUZZLE  WIT. 

bright  eyes,  stealing  on  towards  his  face,  would  sparkle  still 
more  brightly  than  their  custom  was,  and  then  grow  dim. 
\\'hen  Tom  was  silent,  looking  out  upon  the  summer  weather, 
she  would  sometimes  make  a  hasty  movement,  as  if  she  were 
about  to  throw  herself  upon  his  neck ;  then  check  the  im- 
pulse, and  when  he  looked  round,  show  a  laughing  face,  and 
speak  to  him,  very  merrily ;  when  she  had  anything  to  give 
Tom,  or  had  any  excuse  for  coming  near  him,  she  would  flutter 
about  him,  and  lay  her  bashful  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  not 
be  willing  to  withdraw  it ;  and  would  show  by  all  such  means 
that  there  was  something  on  her  heart  which  in  her  great  love 
she  longed  to  say  to  him,  but  had  not  the  courage  to  utter. 

So  they  were  sitting,  she  with  her  work  before  her,  but  not 
working,  and  Tom  with  his  book  beside  him,  but  not  reading, 
when  Martin  knocked  at  the  door.  Anticipating  who  it  was, 
Tom  went  to  open  it :  and  he  and  Martin  came  back  into  the 
room  together.  Tom  looked  surprised,  for  in  answer  tp  his 
cordial  greeting  Martin  had  hardly  spoken  a  word. 

Ruth  also  saw  that  there  was  something  strange  in  the 
manner  of  their  visitor,  and  raised  her  eyes  inquiringly  to 
Tom's  face,  as  if  she  were  seeking  an  explanation  there.  Tom 
shook  his  head,  and  made  the  same  mute  appeal  to  Martin. 

Martin  did  not  sit  down,  but  walked  up  to  the  window,  and 
stood  there,  looking  out.  He  turned  round  after  a  few  moments 
to  speak,  but  hastily  averted  his  head  again,  without  doing  so. 

"  What  has  happened,  Martin  ?  "  Tom  anxiously  inquired. 
"  My  dear  fellow,  what  bad  news  do  you  bring  ?  " 

"  Oh  Tom  !  "  replied  Martin,  in  a  tone  of  deep  reproach. 
"  To  hear  you  feign  that  interest  in  anything  that  happens  to 
me,  hurts  me  even  more  than  your  ungenerous  dealing." 

"  My  ungenerous  dealing,  Martin  !  My — "  Tom  could  say 
no  more. 

"  How  could  you,  Tom,  how  could  you  suffer  me  to  thank 
you  so  fervently  and  sincerely  for  your  friendship,  and  not  tell 
me,  like  a  man,  that  you  had  deserted  me  !  Was  it  true,  Tom  ! 
Was  it  honest !  Was  it  worthy  of  what  you  used  to  be  :  of 
what  I  am  sure  you  used  to  be  :  to  tempt  me,  when  you  had 
turned  against  me,  into  pouring  out  my  heart  !     Oh  lorn  !  " 

His  tone  was  one  of  such  strong  injury  and  yet  of  so  much 
grief  for  the  loss  of  a  friend  he  had  trusted  in  ;  it  expressed 
such  high  past  love  for  Tom,  and  so  much  sorrow  and  com- 
passion for  his  supposed  -unworthiness  ;  that  Tom,  for  a  mo- 
ment, put  his  hand  before  his  face,  and  had  no  more  powei 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


759 


of  justifying  himself,  than  if  he  had  been  a  monster  of  deceit 
and  falsehood. 

"  I  protest,  as  I  must  die,"  said  Martin,  "  that  I  grieve 
over  the  loss  of  what  I  thought  you ;  and  have  no  anger  in 
the  recollection  of  my  own  injuries.  It  is  only  at  such  a  time, 
and  after  such  a  discovery,  that  we  know  the  full  measure  of 
our  old  regard  for  the  subject  of  it.  I  swear,  little  as  I  showed 
it ;  little  as  I  know  I  showed  it ;  that  when  I  had  the  least 
consideration  for  you,  Tom,  I  loved  you  like  a  brother." 

Tom  was  composed  by  this  time,  and  might  have  been  the 
Spirit  of  Truth,  in  a  homely  dress — it  very  often  wears  a 
homely  dress,  thank  God ! — when  he  replied  to  him. 

"  Martm,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know  what  is  in  your  mind, 
or  who  has  abused  it,  or  by  what  extraordinary  means.  But 
the  means  are  false.  There  is  no  truth  whatever  in  the  im- 
pression under  which  you  labor.  It  is  a  delusion  from  first 
to  last ;  and  I  warn  you  that  you  will  deeply  regret  the  wrong 
you  do  me.  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  have  been  true  to  you, 
and  to  myself.  You  will  be  very  sorry  for  this.  Indeed,  you 
will  be  very  sorry  for  it,  Martin." 

"  I  am  sorr}',"  returned  Martin,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
think  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  be  sorry  in  my  heart,  until 


now." 


"At  least,"  said  Tom,  "if  I  had  always  been  what  you 
charge  me  with  being  now,  and  had  never  had  a  place  in  your 
regard,  but  had  always  been  despised  by  you,  and  had  always 
deserved  it,  you  should  tell  me  in  what  you  ha\'e  found  me  to 
be  treacherous  ;  and  on  what  grounds  you  proceed.  I  do  not 
entreat  you,  therefore,  to  give  me  that  satisfaction  as  a  favor, 
Martin,  but  I  ask  it  of  you  as  a  right." 

"  My  own  eyes  are  my  witnesses,"  returned  Martin.  "  Am 
I  to  believe  them  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  calmly.     "  Not  if  they  accuse  me." 

"Your  own  words.  Your  own  manner,"  pursued  Martin. 
"  Am  I  to  belie\e  them  /" 

"  No,"    replied   Tom,   calmly.     "  Not  if  they  accuse  me. 
But  they  never  have  accused  me.     Whoever  has  preverted 
them  to  such  a  purpose,  has  wronged  me,  almost  as  cruelly  : 
his  calmness  rather  failed  him  here  ;  "  as  you  have  done." 

"  I  came  here,"  said  Martin  ;  "  and  I  appeal  to  your  good 
sister  to  hear  me — " 

"  Not  to  her,"  interrupted  Tom.  "  Tray,  do  not  appeal  to 
her.     She  will  never  believe  you." 


7 


6o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


He  drew  her  arm  through  his  own,  as  he  said  it. 

•'  /believe  it,  Tom  !  " 

"No,  no,"  cried  Tom,  "of  course  not.  I  said  so.  Why, 
tut,  tut,  tut.     What  a  silly  little  thing  you  are  !  " 

"  I  never  meant,"  said  Martm,  hastily,  to  appeal  to  you 
against  your  brother.  Do  not  think  me  so  unmanly  and  un- 
kind. I  merely  appealed  to  you  to  hear  my  declaration,  that 
I  came  here  for  no  purpose  of  reproach — I  have  not  one  re- 
proach to  vent — but  in  deep  regret.  You  could  not  know  in 
what  bitterness  of  regret,  unless  you  knew  how  often  I  have 
thought  of  Tom  ;  how  long  in  almost  hopeless  circumstances, 
I  have  looked  forward  to  the  better  estimation  of  his  friend- 
ship ;  and  how  steadfastly  I  have  believed  and  trusted  in 
him." 

"Tut,  tut,"  said  Tom,  stopping  her  as  she  was  about  to 
speak.  "  He  is  mistaken.  He  is  deceived.  Why  should  you 
mind  ?     He  is  sure  to  be  set  right  at  last." 

"  Heaven  bless  the  day  that  sets  me  right  I  "  cried  Martin, 
"  if  it  could  ever  come  !  " 

"  Amen  !  "  said  Tom.     "  And  it  will  !  " 

Martin  paused,  and  then  said  in  a  still  milder  voice  : 

"  You  have  chosen  for  yourself,  Tom,  and  will  be  relieved 
by  our  parting.  It  is  not  an  angr}'  one.  There  is  no  anger 
on  my  side — " 

"  There  is  none  on  mine,"  said  Tom. 

"  — it  is  merely  what  you  have  brought  about,  and  worked 
to  bring  about.  I  say  again,  you  have  chosen  for  yourself. 
You  have  made  the  choice  that  might  have  been  expected  in 
most  people  situated  as  you  are,  but  which  I  did  not  expect 
in  you.  For  that,  perhaps,  I  should  blame  my  own  judgment 
more  than  you.  There  is  wealth  and  favor  worth  having,  on 
one  side ;  and  there  is  the  worthless  friendship  of  an  aban- 
doned, struggling  fellow,  on  the  other.  You  were  free  to  make 
your  election,  and  you  made  it ;  and  the  choice  was  not  diffi- 
cult. But  those  who  have  not  the  courage  to  resist  such 
temptations,  should  have  the  courage  to  avow  that  they  have 
yielded  to  them  ;  and  I  do  blame  you  for  this,  Tom  :  that  you 
received  me  with  a  show  of  warmth,  encouraged  me  to  be 
frank  and  plain-spoken,  tempted  me  to  confide  in  you,  and 
professed  that  you  were  able  to  be  mine  ;  when  you  had  sold 
yourself  to  others.  I  do  not  believe,"  said  Martin,  with  emo- 
tion :  "  hear  me  say  it  from  my  heart  ;  I  cannot  believe,  Tom, 
now  that  I  am  standing  face   to  face  with  you,  that  it  would 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  jSl 

have  been  in  your  nature  to  do  me  any  serious  harm,  even 
though  I  had  not  discovered,  by  chance,  in  whose  employment 
you  were.  But  I  should  have  encumbered  you  ;  I  should  have 
led  you  into  more  double-dealing  ;  1  should  have  hazarded 
your  retaining  the  favor  for  which  you  have  paid  so  high  a 
price,  bartering  away  your  former  self  ;  and  it  is  best  for  both 
of  us  that  I  have  found  out  what  you  so  much  desired  to  keep 
secret." 

"  Be  just,"  said  Tom  ;  who  had  not  removed  his  mild  gaze 
from  Martin's  face  since  the  commencement  of  this  last  ad- 
dress ;  "  be  just  even  in  your  injustice,  Martin.  You  forget. 
You  have  not  yet  told  me  what  your  accusation  is  !  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  returned' Martin,  wa\ing  his  hand,  and 
moving  towards  the  door.  "You  could  not  know  it  the  better 
for  my  dwelling  on  it,  and  though  it  would  be  really  none  the 
worse,  it  might  seem  to  me  to  be.  No,  Tom.  Bygones  shall 
be  bygones  between  us.  I  can  take  leave  of  you  at  this  moment, 
and  in  this  place  ;  in  which  you  are  so  amiable  and  so  good ; 
as  heartily,  if  not  as  cheerfully,  as  ever  I  have  done  since  we 
first  met.      All  good  go  with  you,  Tom  !— I — " 

"  You  leave  me  so  ?  You  can  leave  me  so,  can  you  ?  " 
said  Tom. 

"  I — you — you  have  chosen  for  yourself,  Tom  !  I — I  hope 
it  was  a  rash  choice,"  Martin  faltered.  "  I  think  it  was.  I 
am  sure  it  was  !     Good-by  !  " 

And  he  was  gone. 

Tom  led  his  little  sister  to  her  chair,  and  sat  down  in  his 
own.  He  took  his  book,  and  read,  or  seemed  to  read.  Pres- 
ently he  said  aloud  :  turning  a  leaf  as  he  spoke  :  "  He  will 
be  very  sorry  for  this,"  and  a  tear  stole  down  his  face,  and 
dropped  upon  the  page. 

Ruth  nestled  down  beside  him  on  her  knees,  and  clasped 
her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  No,  Tom  !     No,  no  !     Be  comforted  !     Dear  Tom  !  " 

"  I  am  quite — comforted,"  said  Tom.  "  It  will  be  set 
right." 

"  Such  a  cruel,  bad  return  !  "  cried  Ruth. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom.  "  He  believes  it.  I  cannot  imagine 
why.     But  it  will  be  set  right." 

More  closely  yet  she  nestled  down  about  him  ;  and  wept 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Don't.  Don't,"  said  Tom.  "  Why  do  you  hide  your  face, 
my  dear  ? " 


762 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


Then  in  a  burst  of  tears,  it  all  broke  out  at  last. 

*'  Oh  Tom,  dear  Tom,  I  know  your  secret  heart.  I  have 
found  it  out ;  you  couldn't  hide  the  truth  from  me.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  ?  I  am  sure  I  could  have  made  you  happier, 
if  you  had  !     You  love  her  Tom,  so  dearly !  " 

Tom  made  a  motion  with  his  hand  as  if  he  would  have  put 
his  sister  hurriedly  away  ;  but.  it  clasped  upon  hers,  and  all  his 
little  history  was  written  in  the  action.  All  its  pathetic  elo- 
quence was  in  the  silent  touch. 

"In  spite  of  that,"  said  Ruth,  "you  have  been  so  faithful 
and  so  good,  dear ;  in  spite  of  that,  you  have  been  so  true  and 
self-denying,  and  have  struggled  with  yourself ;  in  spite  of 
that,  you  have  been  so  gentle  and  so  kind,  and  even-tempered, 
that  I  have  never  seen  you  give  a  hasty  look,  or  heard  you 
say  one  irritable  word.  In  spite  of  all,  you  have  been  so  cruelly 
mistaken.  Oh  Tom,  dear  Tom,  will  this  be  set  right  too ! 
Will  it,  Tom  ?  Will  you  always  have  this  sorrow  in  your 
breast ;  you  who  deserve  to  be  so  happy :  or  is  there  any 
hope ! " 

And  still  she  hid  her  face  from  Tom,  and  clasped  him 
round  the  neck,  and  wept  for  him,  and  poured  out  all  her 
woman's  heart  and  soul  in  the  relief  and  pain  of  this  dis- 
closure. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  she  and  Tom  were  sitting  side 
by  side,  and  she  was  looking  with  an  earnest  quietness  in 
Tom's  face.  Then  Tom  spoke  to  her  thus  :  cheerily,  though 
gravely. 

"  I  am  very  glad,  my  dear,  that  this  has  passed  between 
us.  Not  because  it  assures  me  of  your  tender  affection  (for  I 
was  well  assured  of  that  before),  but  because  it  relieves  my 
mind  of  a  great  weight." 

Tom's  eyes  glistened  when  he  spoke  of  her  affection  ;  and 
he  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Tom:  "with  whatever  feeling  I  re- 
gard her ; "  they  seemed  to  avoid  the  name  by  mutual  consent ; 
"  I  have  long  ago — I  am  sure  I  may  say  from  the  very  first 
— looked  upon  it  as  a  dream.  As  something  that  might  pos- 
sibly have  happened  under  very  different  circumstances,  but 
which  can  never  be.  Now,  tell  me.  What  would  you  have 
set  right  ? " 

Siie  gave  Tom  such  a  significant  little  look,  that  he  was 
oblised  to  take  it  for  an  answer  whether  he  would  or  no  ;  and 


to  go  on. 


MA  R  TIN  C MUZZLE  WI T.  763 

"  By  her  own  choice  and  free  consent,  my  love,  she  is  be- 
trothed to  Martin  ;  and  was,  long  before  either  of  them  knew 
of  my  existence.     You  would  have  her  betrothed  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  directly. 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Tom,  "  but  that  might  be  setting  it  wrong, 
instead  of  right.  Do  you  think,"  said  Tom,  with  a  grave 
smile,  "  that  even  if  she  had  never  seen  him,  it  is  very  likely 
she  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  Me  ? " 

"  Why  not,  dear  Tom  ?  " 

Tom  shook  his  head,  and  smiled  again. 

"  You  think  of  me,  Ruth,"  said  Tom,  "  and  it  is  very 
natural  that  you  should,  as  if  I  were  a  character  in  a  book  ; 
and  you  make  it  a  sort  of  poetical  justice  that  I  should,  by 
some  impossible  means  or  other,  come,  at  last,  to  marry  the 
person  1  love.  But  there  is  a  much  higher  justice  than  poeti- 
cal justice,  my  dear,  and  it  does  not  order  events  upon  the 
same  principle.  Accordingly  people  who  read  about  heroes 
in  books,  and  choose  to  make  heroes  of  themselves  out 
of  books,  consider  it  a  very  fine  thing  to  be  discontented 
and  gloomy,  and  misanthropical,  and  perhaps  a  little  blas- 
phemous, because  they  cannot  have  everything  ordered 
for  their  individual  accommodation.  Would  you  like  me  to 
become  one  of  that  sort  of  people  ?  " 

"  No,  Tom.  But  still  1  know,"  she  added  timidly,  "  that 
this  is  a  sorrow  to  you  in  your  own  better  way." 

Tom  thought  of  disputing  the  position.  But  it  would 
have  been  mere  folly,  and  he  gave  it  up. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Tom,  "  I  will  repay  your  affection  with 
the  Truth,  and  all  the  Truth.  It  is  a  sorrow  to  me.  I  have 
proved  it  to  be  so  sometimes,  though  I  have  always  striven 
against  it.  But  somebody  who  is  precious  to  you  may  die, 
and  you  may  dream  that  you  are  in  lieaven  with  the  departed 
spirit,  and  you  may  find  it  a  sorrow  to  wake  to  the  life  on 
earth,  which  is  no  harder  to  be  borne  than  when  you  fell 
asleep.  It  is  sorrowful  to  me  to  contemplate  my  dream, 
which  I  always  knew  was  a  dream,  even  when  it  first  pre- 
sented itself  ;  but  the  realities  about  me  are  not  to  blame. 
They  are  the  same  as  they  were.  My  sister,  my  sweet  com- 
panion, who  makes  this  place  so  dear,  is  she  less  devoted  to 
me,  Ruth,  than  she  would  have  been,  if  this  vision  had  never 
troubled  me?  My  old  friend  John,  who  might  so  easily  have 
treated  me  with  coldness  and  neglect,  is  he  less  cordial  to  me  ? 
The  world  about  me,  is  there   less  good   in  that  ?     Are  my 


764  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

words  to  be  harsh  and  my  looks  to  be  sour,  and  is  my  heart 
to  grow  cold,  because  there  has  fallen  in  my  way  a  good  and 
beautiful  creature,  who  but  for  the  selfish  regret  that  1  cannot 
call  her  my  own,  would,  like  all  other  good  and  beautiful 
creatures,  make  me  happier  and  better  !  No,  mv  dear  sister. 
No,"  said  Tom  stoutly.  "  Remembering  all  my  means  of 
happiness,  I  hardly  dare  to  call  this  lurking  something,  a  sor- 
row ;  but  whatever  name  it  may  justly  bear,  I  thank  Heaven 
that  it  renders  me  more  sensible  of  affection  and  attachment, 
and  softens  me  in  fifty  ways.  Not  less  happy.  Not  less 
happy,  Ruth  !  " 

She  could  not  speak  to  him,  but  she  loved  him,  as  he  well 
deserved.     Even  as  he  deserved,  she  loved  him. 

"  She  will  open  Martin's  eyes,"  said  Tom,  with  a  glow  of 
pride,  "  and  that  (which  is  indeed  wrong)  will  be  set  right. 
Nothing  will  persuade  her,  I  know,  that  I  have  betrayed  him. 
It  will  be  set  right  through  her,  and  he  will  be  \e.xy  sorry  for 
it.  Our  secret,  Ruth,  is  our  own,  and  lives  and  dies  with  us. 
I  don't  believe  I  ever  could  have  told  it  you,"  said  Tom, 
with  a  smile,  "but  how  glad  I  am  to  think  you  have  found  it 
out  !  " 

They  had  never  taken  such  a  pleasant  walk  as  they  took 
that  night.  Tom  told  her  all  so  freely,  and  so  simply,  and 
was  so  desirous  to  return  her  tenderness  with  his  fullest  con- 
fidence, that  they  prolonged  it  far  beyond  their  usual  hour, 
and  sat  up  late  when  they  came  home.  And  when  they 
parted  for  the  night  there  was  such  a  tranquil,  beautiful  ex- 
pression in  Tom's  face,  that  she  could  not  bear  to  shut  it  out, 
but  going  back  on  tip-toe  to  his  chamber-door,  looked  in  and 
stood  there  till  he  saw  her,  and  then  embracing  him  again, 
withdrew.  And  in  her  prayers,  and  in  her  sleep — -good  times 
to  be  remembered  with  such  fervor,  Tom  ! — his  name  was  up- 
permost. 

When  he  was  left  alone,  Tom  pondered  very  much  on  this 
discovery  of  hers,  and  greatly  wondered  what  had  led  her  to 
it.  "Because,"  thought  Tom,  "  I  have  been  so  very  careful. 
It  was  foolish  and  unnecessary  in  me,  as  I  clearly  see  now, 
when  I  am  so  relieved  by  her  knowing  it ;  but  I  have  been  so 
very  careful  to  conceal  it  from  her.  Of  course  I  knew  that 
she  was  intelligent  and  quick,  and  for  that  reason  was  more 
upon  my  guard  ;  but  I  was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for  this. 
I  am  sure  her  discovery  has  been  sudden  too.  Dear  me  !  " 
said  Tom.     "  It's  a  most  singular  instance  of  penetration  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  765 

Tom  could  not  get  it  out  of  his  head.  There  it  was,  when 
his  head  was  on  his  pillow. 

"  How  she  trembled  when  she  began  to  tell  me  she  knew 
it !  "  thought  Tom,  recalling  all  the  little  incidents  and  cir- 
cumstances ;  "  and  how  her  face  flushed  !  But  that  was 
natural !  Oh,  quite  natural  !  That  needs  no  accounting 
for." 

Tom  little  thought  how  natural  it  was.  Tom  little  knew 
that  there  was  that  in  Ruth's  own  heart,  but  newly  set  there, 
which  had  helped  her  to  the  reading  of  his  myster\-.  Ah, 
Tom  !  He  didn"t  understand  tl.e  whispers  of  the  Temple 
Fountain,  though  he  passed  it  eveiy  day. 

Who  so  lively  and  cheerful  as  busy  Ruth  next  morning ! 
Her  early  tap  at  Tom's  door,  and  her  light  foot  outside, 
would  have  been  music  to  him  though  she  had  not  spoken. 
But  she  said  it  was  the  brightest  morning  ever  seen  ;  and  so 
it  was  ;  and  if  it  had  been  otherwise,  she  would  have  made  it 
so  to  Tom. 

She  was  ready  with  his  neat  breakfast  when  he  went 
down  stairs,  and  had  her  bonnet  ready  for  the  early  walk, 
and  was  so  full  of  news,  that  Tom  was  lost  in  wonder. 
She  might  have  been  up  all  night,  collecting  it  for  his  enter- 
tainment. There  was  Mr.  Nadgett  not  come  home  yet,  and 
there  was  bread  down  a  penny  a  loaf,  and  there  was  twice  as 
much  strength  in  this  tea  as  in  the  last,  and  the  milkwoman's 
husband  had  come  out  of  the  hospital  cured,  and  the  curly- 
headed  child  over  the  way  had  been  lost  all  yesterday,  and 
she  was  going  to  make  all  sort  of  preserves  in  a  desperate 
hurry,  and  there  happened  to  be  a  saucepan  in  the  house 
which  was  the  very  saucepan  for  the  purpose  ;  and  she  knew 
all  about  the  last  book  Tom  had  brought  home,  all  through, 
though  it  was  a  teazer  to  read  ;  and  she  had  so  much  to  tell 
him  that  she  had  finished  breakfast  first.  Then  she  had  her 
little  bonnet  on,  and  the  tea  and  sugar  locked  up,  and  the 
keys  in  her  reticule,  and  the  flower,  as  usual,  in  1  om's  coat, 
and  was,  in  all  respects,  quite  ready  to  accompany  him,  be- 
fore Tom  knew  she  had  begun  to  prepare.  And  in  short,  as 
Tom  said,  with  a  confidence  in  his  own  assertion  which 
amounted  to  a  defiance  of  the  public  in  general,  there  never 
was  such  a  little  woman. 

She  made  Tom  talkative.  It  was  impossible  to  resist  her. 
She  put  such  enticing  questions  to  him  ;  about  books,  and 
about  dates  of  churches,   and   about  organs,  and  about   the 


766  MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT. 

Temple,  and  about  all  kinds  of  things.  Indeed,  she  lightened 
the  way  (and  Tom's  heart  with  it)  to  that  degree,  that  the 
Temple  looked  quite  blank  and  solitary  when  he  parted  from 
her  at  the  gate. 

"  No  Mr.  Fips's  friend  to  day,  I  suppose,"  thought  Tom, 
as  he  ascended  the  stairs. 

Not  yet,  at  any  rate,  for  the  door  was  closed  as  usual,  and 
Tom  opened  it  with  his  key.  He  had  got  the  books  into 
perfect  order  now,  and  had  mended  the  torn  leaves,  and  had 
pasted  up  the  broken  backs,  and  substituted  neat  labels  for 
the  worn-out  letterings.  It  looked  a  different  place,  it  was 
so  orderly  and  neat.  Tom  felt  some  pride  in  contemplating 
the  change  he  had  wrought,  though  there  was  no  one  to  ap- 
prove or  disapprove  of  it. 

He  was  at  present  occupied  in  making  a  fair  copy  of  his 
draught  of  the  catalogue  ;  on  which,  as  there  was  no  hurry, 
he  was  painfully  concentrating  all  the  ingenious  and  laborious 
neatness  he  had  ever  expended  on  map  or  plan  in  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's workroom.  It  was  a  very  marvel  of  a  catalogue ;  for 
Tom  sometimes  thought  he  was  really  getting  his  money  too 
easily,  and  he  had  determined  within  himself  that  this  docu- 
ment should  take  a  little  of  his  superfluous  leisure  out  of 
him. 

So,  with  pens  and  ruler,  and  compasses  and  india-rubber, 
and  pencil  and  black  ink,  and  red  ink,  Tom  worked  away  all 
the  morning.  He  thought  a  good  deal  about  Martin,  and 
their  interview  of  yesterday,  and  would  have  been  far  easier  in 
his  mind  if  he  could  have  resolved  to  confide  it  to  his  friend 
John,  and  to  have  taken  his  opinion  on  the  subject.  But  be- 
sides that  he  knew  what  John's  boiling  indignation  would  be, 
he  bethought  himself  that  he  was  helping  Martin  now  in  a 
matter  of  great  moment,  and  that  to  deprive  the  latter  of  his 
assistance  at  such  a  crisis  of  affairs,  would  be  to  inflict  a  seri- 
ous injur}'  upon  him. 

"  So  I'll  keep  it  to  myself,"  said  Tom,  with  a  sigh.  "  I'll 
keep  it  to  myself." 

And  to  work  he  went  again,  more  assiduously  than  ever, 
with  the  pens,  and  the  ruler,  and  the  india-rubber,  and  the 
pencil,  and  the  black  ink,  and  the  red  ink,  that  he  might  for- 
get it. 

He  had  labored  away  for  another  hour  or  more,  when  he 
heard  a  footstep  in  the  entry,  down  below. 

"Ah!  "  said  Tom,  looking  towards  the  door;  "time  was, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


767 


not  long  ago  either,  when  that  would  have  set  me  wondering 
and  expecting.      But  I  have  left  off  now." 

The  footstep  came  on,  up  the  stairs. 

"  Thirty-six,  thirty-seven,  thirty-eight,"  said  Tom,  count- 
ing. "  Now  you'll  stop.  Nobody  e\er  comes  past  the  thirty- 
eight  stair." 

The  person  did  stop,  certainly,  but  only  to  take  breath  \ 
for  up  the  footstep  came  again.  Forty,  forty-one,  forty-two, 
and  so  on. 

The  door  stood  open.  As  the  tread  advanced,  Tom 
looked  impatiently  and  eagerly  towards  it.  When  a  figure 
came  upon  the  landing,  and  arriving  in  the  doorway,  stopped 
and  gazed  at  him,  he  rose  up  from  his  chair,  and  half  believed 
he  saw  a  spirit. 

Old  Martin  Chuzzlewit !  The  same  whom  he  had  left  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff's,  weak  and  sinking ! 

The  same  \  No,  not  the  same,  for  this  old  man,  though 
old,  was  strong,  and  leaned  upon  his  stick  with  a  vigorous 
hand,  while  with  the  other  he  signed  to  Tom  to  make  no 
noise.  One  glance  at  the  resolute  face,  the  watchful  eye,  the 
vigorous  hand  upon  the  staff,  the  triumphant  purpose  in  the 
figure,  and  such  a  light  broke  in  on  Tom  as  blinded  him. 

"You  have  expected  me,"  said  Martin,  "a  long  time." 

"  I  was  told  that  my  employer  would  arrive  soon,"  said 
Tom;  "but—" 

"  I  know.  You  were  ignorant  who  he  was.  It  was  my  de- 
sire. I  am  glad  it  has  been  so  well  observed.  I  intended  to 
have  been  with  you  much  sooner.  I  thought  the  time  had  come. 
I  thought  I  could  know  no  more,  and  no  worse,  of  him,  than 
I  did  on  that  day  when  I  saw  you  last.     But  I  was  wrong." 

He  had  by  this  time  come  up  to  Tom,  and  now  he  grasped 
his  hand. 

"  I  have  lived  in  his  house,  Pinch,  and  had  him  fawning 
on  me  days  and  weeks,  and  months.  You  know  it.  I  have 
suffered  him  to  treat  me  like  his  tool  and  instrument.  \'ou 
know  it ;  you  have  seen  me  there.  I  have  undergone  ten 
thousand  times  as  much  as  I  could  have  endured  if  I  had 
been  the  miserable  weak  old  man  he  took  me  for.  You  know 
it.  I  have  seen  him  offer  love  to  Mar\^  You  know  it  ;  who 
better — who  better,  mv  true  heart  !  I  have  had  his  base  son 
bare  before  me,  day  by  day,  and  have  not  betrayed  myself 
once.  T  never  could  have  undergone  such  torture  but  for 
looking  forward  to  this  time." 


768  MARTTX  CHUZZLEWir. 

He  stopped,  even  in  the  passion  of  his  speech  ;  if  that 
can  be  called  passion  which  was  so  resolute  and  steady ;  to 
press  Tom's  hand  again.  Then  he  said,  in  great  excite- 
ment : 

"  Close  the  door,  close  the  door.  He  will  not  be  long 
after  me,  but  may  come  too  soon.  The  time  now  drawing 
on,"  said  the  old  man,  hurriedly :  his  eyes  and  whole  face 
brightening  as  he  spoke ;  "  will  make  amends  for  all.  I 
wouldn't  have  him  die  or  hang  himself,  for  millions  of  golden 
pieces  !     Close  the  door  !  " 

Tom  did  so,  hardly  knowing  yet  whether  he  was  awake,  or 
in  a  dream. 


CHAPTER  LI. 


SHEDS     NEW     AND     BRIGHTER     LIGHT     UPON     THE     VERY    DARK 
PLACE  ;   AND     CONTAINS    THE     SEQUEL    OF     THE    ENTER- 
PRISE   OF    MR.    JONAS    AND    HIS    FRIEND. 

The  night  had  now  come,  when  the  old  clerk  was  to  be 
delivered  over  to  his  keepers.  In  the  midst  of  his  guilty  dis- 
tractions, Jonas  had  not  forgotten  it. 

It  was  a  part  of  his  guilty  state  of  mind  to  remember  it ; 
for  on  his  persistence  in  the  scheme  depended  one  of  his  pre- 
cautions for  his  own  safety.  A  hint,  a  word,  from  the  old 
man,  uttered  at  such  a  moment  in  attentive  ears,  might  fire 
the  train  of  suspicion,  and  destroy  him.  His  watchfulness  of 
every  avenue  by  which  the  discovery  of  his  guilt  might  be 
approached,  sharpened  with  his  sense  of  the  danger  by  which 
he  was  encompassed.  With  murder  on  his  soul,  and  its  in- 
numerable alarms  and  terrors  dragging  at  him  night  and  day, 
he  would  have  repeated  the  crime,  if  he  had  seen  a  path  of 
safety  stretching  out  beyond.  It  was  in  his  punishment  ;  it 
was  in  his  guilty  condition.  The  very  deed  which  his  fears 
rendered  insupportable,  his  fears  would  have  impelled  him  to 
commit  again. 

But  keeping  the  old  man  close,  according  to  his  design, 
would  serve  his  turn.  His  purpose  was,  to  escape,  when  the 
first  alarm  and  wonder  had  subsided :  and  when  he  could 
make   the  attempt  without  awakening  instant  suspicion.     In 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


769 


the  meanwhile  these  women  would  keep  hun  quiet  j  and  if 
the  talking  humor  came  upon  him,  would  not  be  easily  startled. 
He  knew  their  trade. 

Nor  had  he  spoken  idly  when  he  said  the  old  man  should 
be  gagged.  He  had  resolved  to  ensure  his  silence  ;  and  he 
looked  to  the  end,  not  the  means.  He  had  been  rough  and 
rude  and  cruel  to  the  old  man  all  his  life  ;  and  violence  was 
natural  to  his  mind  in  connection  with  him.  "  He  shall  be 
gagged  if  he  speaks,  and  pinioned  if  he  writes,"  said  Jonas, 
looking  at  him  ;  for  they  sat  alone  together.  "  He  is  mad 
enough  for  that ;  I'll  go  through  with  it !  " 

Hush  I 

Still  listening !  To  every  sound.  He  had  listened  ever 
since,  and  it  had  not  come  yet.  The  exposure  of  the  Assur- 
ance office ;  the  flight  of  Crimple  and  Bullamy  with  the 
plunder,  and  among  the  rest,  as  he  feared,  with  his  own  bill, 
which  he  had  not  found  in  the  pocket-book  of  the  murdered 
man,  and  which  with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  money  had  probably 
been  remitted  to  one  or  other  of  those  trusty  friends  for  safe 
clesposit  at  the  banker's  :  his  immense  losses,  and  peril  of 
being  still  called  to  account  as  a  partner  in  the  broken  firm  \ 
all  these  things  rose  in  his  mind  at  one  time  and  always,  but 
he  could  not  contemplate  them.  He  was  aware  of  their 
presence,  and  of  the  rage,  discomfiture,  and  despair,  they 
brought  along  with  them ;  but  he  thought — of  his  own  con- 
trolling power  and  direction  he  thought — of  the  one  dread 
question  only.     When  they  would  find  the  body  in  the  wood. 

He  tried — he  had  never  left  off  trying — not  to  forget  it  was 
there,  for  that  was  impossible,  but  to  forget  to  weary  himself 
by  drawing  vivid  pictures  of  it  in  his  fancy :  by  going  softly 
about  it  and  about  it  among  the  leaves,  approaching  it  nearer 
and  nearer  through  a  gap  in  the  boughs,  and  startling  the 
very  flies  that  were  thickly  sprinkled  all  ovei  it,  like  heaps  of 
dried  currants.  His  mind  was  fixed  and  fastened  on  the  dis- 
covery, for  intelligence  of  which  he  listened  inteftitly  to  every 
cry  and  shout  ;  listened  when  any  one  came  in,  or  went  out ; 
watched  from  the  window  the  people  who  passed  up  and  down 
the  street ;  mistrusted  his  own  looks  and  words.  And  the 
more  his  thoughts  were  set  upon  the  discoverv,  the  stronger 
was  the  fascination  which  attracted  them  to  the  thing  itself  : 
lying  alone  in  the  wood.  He  was  for  ever  showing  and 
presenting  it,  as  it  were,  to  every  creature  whom  he  saw. 
"  Look  here  !     Do  you  know  of  this  1     Is  it  found  >.     Do  you 

49 


770 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


suspect  mcl  "  If  he  had  been  condemned  to  bear  the  body 
in  his  arms,  and  lay  it  down  for  recognition  at  the  feet  of  every 
one  he  met,  it  could  not  have  been  more  constantly  with  him, 
or  a  cause  of  more  monotonous  and  dismal  occupation  than  it 
was  in  this  state  of  his  mind. 

Still  he  was  not  sorry.  It  was  no  contrition  or  remorse 
for  what  he  had  done  that  moved  him  ;  it  was  nothing  but 
alarm  for  his  own  security.  The  vague  consciousness  he 
possessed  of  having  wrecked  his  fortune  in  the  murderous 
venture,  intensified  his  hatred  and  revenge,  and  made  him  set 
the  greater  store  by  what  he  had  gained.  The  man  was  dead  ; 
nothing  could  undo  that.  He  felt  a  triumph  yet,  in  the 
reflection. 

He  had  kept  a  jealous  watch  on  Chufifey,  ever  since  the 
deed  ;  seldom  leaving  him  but  on  compulsion,  and  then  for  as 
short  intervals  as  possible.  They  were  alone  together  now. 
It  was  twilight,  and  the  appointed  time  drew  near  at  hand, 
Jonas  walked  up  and  down  the  room.  The  old  man  sat  in  his 
accustomed  corner. 

The  slightest  circumstance  was  matter  of  disquiet  to  the 
murderer,  and  he  was  made  uneasy  at  this  time  by  the  absence 
of  his  wife,  who  had  left  home  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  had 
not  returned  yet.  No  tenderness  for  her  was  at  the  bottom 
of  this  ;  but  he  had  a  misgiving  that  she  might  have  been 
waylaid,  and  tempted  into  saying  something  that  would 
criminate  him  when  the  news  came.  For  anything  he  knew, 
she  might  have  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  room,  while  he 
was  away,  and  discovered  his  plot.  Confound  her,  it  was  like 
her  pale  face,  to  be  wandering  up  and  down  the  house  ! 
Where  was  she  now  ? 

"  She  went  to  her  good  friend,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  the  old 
man,  when  he  asked  the  question  with  an  angry  oath. 

Ay !  To  be  sure  !  Always  stealing  away  into  the  com- 
pany of  that  woman.  She  was  no  friend  of  his.  Who  could 
tell  what  devil's  mischief  they  might  hatch  together  !  Let  her 
be  fetched  home  directly. 

The  old  man,  muttering  some  words  softly,  rose  as  if  he 
would  have  gone  himself,  but  Jonas  thrust  him  back  into  his 
chair  with  an  impatient  imprecation,  and  sent  a  servant-girl 
to  fetch  her.  When  he  had  charged  her  with  her  errand  he 
walked  to  and  fro  again,  and  never  stopped  till  she  came 
back,  which  she  did  pretty  soon  :  the  way  being  shprt,  and  the 
woman  having  made  good  haste. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


771 


Well.     Where  was  she?     Had  she  come? 

No.     She  had  left  there,  full  three  hours. 

"  Left  there  !     Alone  ?  " 

The  messenger  had    not  asked  ;    taking  that  for  granted. 

"  Curse  you  for  a  fool.     Bring  candles  !  " 

She  had  scarcely  left  the  room,  when  the  old  clerk,  who 
had  been  unusually  observant  of  him  ever  since  he  had  asked 
about  his  wife,  came  suddenly  upon  him. 

"  Give  her  up  !  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  Come  !  Give  her 
up  to  me  !  Tell  me  what  you  have  done  with  her.  ,  Quick  ! 
I  have  made  no  promises  on  that  score.  Tell  me  what  you 
have  done  with  her." 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  his  collar  as  he  spoke,  and  grasped 
it :  tightly  too. 

"  You  shall  not  leave  me  !  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  I  am 
strong  enough  to  cry  out  to  the  neighbors,  and  1  will,  unless 
you  give  her  up.     Give  her  up  to  me  !  " 

Jonas  was  so  dismayed  and  conscience-stricken,  that  he 
had  not  even  hardihood  enough  to  unclench  the  old  man's 
hands  with  his  own  ;  but  stood  looking  at  him  as  well  as  he 
could  in  the  darkness,  without  moving  a  finger.  It  was  as 
much  as  he  could  do  to  ask  him  what  he  meant. 

"  I  will  know  what  you  have  done  with  her  !  "  retorted 
Chufifey.  "  If  you  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head,  you  shall  answer 
it.     Poor  thing !     Poor  thing  !     Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  old  madman  !  "  said  Jonas,  in  a  low  voice,  and 
with  trembling,  lips.  "  What  Bedlam  fit  has  come  upon  you 
now  ? " 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  me  mad,  seeing  what  I  have  seen 
in  this  house  !  "  cried  Chuffey.  "  Where  is  my  dear  old 
master  !  Where  is  his  only  son  that  I  have  nursed  upon  my 
knee,  a  child  !  Where  is  she,  she  who  was  the  last ;  she  that 
I've  seen  pining  day  by  day,  and  heard  weeping  in  the  dead 
of  night  !  She  was  the  last,  the  last  of  all  my  friends ! 
Heaven  help  me,  she  was  the  very  last !  " 

Seeing  that  the  tears  were  stealing  down  his  face,  Jonas 
mustered  courage  to  unclench  his  hands,  and  push  him  off 
before  he  answered  : 

"Did  you  hear  me  ask  for  her?  Did  you  hear  me  send 
for  her?  How  can  I  give  you  up  what  I  haven't  got,  idiot! 
Ecod,  I'd  give  her  up  to  you  and  welcome,  if  I  could  ;  and  a 
precious  pair  you'd  be  !  " 

"  If  she  has  come  to  any  harm,"  cried  Chuffey,  "  mind  ! 


772 


MA  K  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


I'm  old  and  silly  ;  but  I  have  my  memory  sometimes ;  and  if 
she  has  come  to  any  harm — " 

"  Devil  take  you,"  interrupted  Jonas,  but  in  a  suppressed 
voice  still  ;  "  what  harm  do  you  suppose  she  has  come  to  ? 
I  know  no  more  where  she  is  than  you  do  ;  I  wish  I  did. 
Wait  till  she  comes  home,  and  see ;  she  can't  be  long.  Will 
that  content  you  ?  " 

"  Mind  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  Not  a  hair  of  her 
head !  not  a  hair  of  her  head  ill-used  !  I  won't  bear  it.  I — I 
have  boi;ae  it  too  long,  Jonas.  I  am  silent  but  I — I — I  can 
speak.  I — I — I  can  speak — "  he  stammered,  as  he  crept  back 
to  his  chair,  and  turned  a  threatening,  though  a  feeble,  look 
upon  him. 

"  You  can  speak,  can  you  !  "  thought  Jonas.  "  So,  so,  we'll 
stop  your  speaking.  It's  well  I  knew  of  this  in  good  time. 
Prevention  is  better  than  cure." 

He  had  made  a  poor  show  of  playing  the  Bully  and 
evincing  a  desire  to  conciliate  at  the  same  time,  but  was  so 
afraid  of  the  old  man  that  great  drops  had  started  out  upon 
his  brow  ;  and  they  stood  there  yet.  His  unusual  tone  of 
voice  and  agitated  manner  had  sufficiently  expressed  his  fear  ; 
but  his  face  would  have  done  so  now,  without  that  aid,  as  he 
had  again  walked  to  and  fro,  glancing  at  him  by  the  candle- 
light. 

He  stopped  at  the  window  to  think.  An  opposite  shop 
was  lighted  up  ;  and  the  tradesman  and  a  customer  were  read- 
ing some  printed  bill  together  across  the  counter.  The  sight 
brought  him  back,  instantly,  to  the  occupation  he  had  forgotten. 
"  Look  here  !  Do  you  know  of  this  .''  Is  it  found  ?  Do  you 
suspect  me  ?  " 

A  hand  upon  the  door.     "  What's  that  !  " 

"  A  pleasant  evenin',"  said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Gamp, 
"  though  warm,  which,  bless  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  we  must 
expect  when  cowcumbers  is  three  for  two-pence.  How  does 
Mr.  Chuffey  find  his  self  to-night,  sir  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  kept  particularly  close  to  the  door  in  saying 
this,  and  curtseyed  more  than  usual.  She  did  not  appear  to 
be  quite  so  much  at  her  ease  as  she  generally  was. 

"  Get  him  to  his  room,"  said  Jonas,  walking  up  to  her.  and 
speaking  in  her  ear.  "  He  has  been  raving  to-night — stark 
mad.     Don't  talk  while  he's  here,  but  come  clown  again." 

"  Poor  sweet  dear  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  uncommon 
tenderness.     "  He's  all  of  a  tremble." 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  773 

"  Well  he  may  be,"  said  Jonas  "  after  the  mad  fit  he  has 
had.     Get  him  up  stairs." 

She  was  by  this  time  assisting  him  to  rise. 

"  There's  my  blessed  old  chick  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a 
tone  that  was  at  once  soothing  and  encouraging.  "  There's 
my  darlin'  Mr.  Chufifey !  Now  come  up  to  your  own  room, 
sir,  and  lay  down  on  your  bed  a  bit ;  for  you're  a  shakin'  all 
over,  as  if  your  precious  jints  was  hung  upon  wires.  That's 
a  good  creetur  !     Come  with  Sairey  !  " 

"  Is  she  come  home  ? "  inquired  the  old  man. 

"  She'll  be  here  directly  minnit,"  returned  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Come  with  Sairey,  Mr.  Chuffey.  Come  with  your  own 
Sairey  !  " 

The  good  woman  had  no  reference  to  any  female  in  the 
world  in  promising  this  speedy  advent  of  the  person  for  whom 
Mr.  Chuffey  inquired,  but  merely  threw  it  out  as  a  means  of 
pacifying  the  old  man.  It  had  its  effect,  for  he  permitted  her 
to  lead  liim  away  :  and  they  quitted  the  room  together. 

Jonas  looked  out  of  the  window  again.  They  were  still 
reading  the  printed  paper  in  the  shop  opposite,  and  a  third 
man  had  joined  in  the  perusal.  What  could  it  be,  to  interest 
them  so  ? 

A  dispute  or  discussion  seemed  to  arise  among  them,  for 
they  all  looked  up  from  their  reading  together,  and  one  of  the 
three,  who  had  been  glancing  over  the  shoulder  of  another, 
stepped  back  to  explain  or  illustrate  some  action  by  his  ges- 
tures. 

Horror!     How  like  the  blow  he  had  struck  in  the  wood  ! 

It  beat  him  from  the  window  as  if  it  had  lighted  on  him- 
self As  he  staggered  into  a  chair  he  thought  of  the  cnange 
in  Mrs.  Gamp,  exhibited  in  her  new-born  tenderness  to  her 
charge.  Was  that  because  it  was  found  ? — because  she  knew 
of  it  ? — because  she  suspected  him  ? 

"  Mr.  Chuffey  is  a  lyin'down,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  returning, 
"and  much  good  may  it  do  him,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  which  harm 
it  can't  and  good  it  may,  be  joyful  !  " 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Jonas,  hoarsely,  "  and  let  us  get  this 
business  done.     Where  is  the  other  woman  ?  " 

"The  other  person's  with  him  now,"  she  answered. 

"That's  right,"  said  Jonas.  "  He  is  not  fit  to  be  left  to 
himself.  Why,  he  fastened  on  me  to-night ;  here,  upon  my 
coat  ;  like  a  savage  dog.  Old  as  he  is,  and  feeble  as  he  is 
usually,  I  had  .some  trouble  to  shake  him  off.     You — Hush  ! 


774 


MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 


— It's  nothing.     You  told  me  the  other  woman's  name.  I  for- 
get it." 

"  I  mentioned  Betsey  Prig,'"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  She  is  to  be  trusted,  is  she  ?" 

"  That  she  ain't  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "nor  have  I  brought 
her,  Mr.  Chuzzlevvit.  I've  brouglit  another,  which  engages  to 
give  every  satisfaction." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

Mrs.  Gamp  looked  at  him  in  an  odd  way  without  return- 
ing any  answer,  but  appeared  to  understand  the  question  too. 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  "  repeated  Jonas. 

"Her  name,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "is  Harris." 

It  was  extraordinary  how  much  effort  it  cost  Mrs.  Gamp  to 
pronounce  the  name  she  was  commonly  so  ready  with.  She 
made  some  three  or  four  gasps  before  she  could  get  it  out ; 
and,  when  she  had  uttered  it,  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  side, 
and  turned  up  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  going  to  faint  away. 
But,  knowing  her  to  labor  under  a  complication  of  internal 
disorders,  which  rendered  a  few  drops  of  spirits  indispensable 
at  certain  times  to  her  existence,  and  which  came  on  very 
strong  when  that  remedy  was  not  at  hand,  Jonas  merely  sup- 
posed her  to  be  the  victim  of  one  of  these  attacks. 

"  Well  !  "  he  said,  hastily,  for  he  felt  how  incapable  he 
was  of  confining  his  wandering  attention  to  the  subject. 
"  You  and  she  have  arranged  to  take  care  of  him,  have  you  .'"' 

Mrs.  Gamp  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  softly  discharged 
herself  of  her  familiar  phrase.  "  Turn  and  turn  about  ;  one 
off,  one  on."  But  she  spoke  so  tremulously  that  she  felt  called 
upon  to  add,  "  which  fiddle-strings  is  weakness  to  expredge  my 
nerves  this  night !  " 

Jonas  stopped  to  listen.     Then  said,  hurriedly : 

"  We  shall  not  quarrel  about  terms.  Let  them  be  the  same 
as  they  were  before.  Keep  him  close,  and  keep  him  quiet. 
He  must  be  restrained.  He  has  got  it  in  his  head  to-night 
that  my  wife's  dead,  and  has  been  attacking  me  as  if  I  had 
killed  her.  It's — it's  common  with  mad  people  to  take  the 
worst  fancies  of  those  they  like  best.     Isn't  it .''  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  assented  with  a  short  groan. 

"  Keep  him  close,  then,  or  in  one  of  his  lits  he'll  be  doing 
me  a  mischief.  And  don  t  trust  him  at  any  time  ;  for  when 
he  seems  most  rational,  he's  wildest  in  his  talk.  But  that  you 
know  already.     Let  me  see  the  other." 

"The  t'other  person,  sir .''  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 


MA R  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


in 


"  Ay!  Go  you  to  him  and  send  the  other.  Quick  !  I'm 
busy." 

Mrs.  Gamp  took  two  or  three  backward  steps  towards  the 
door,  and  stopped  there. 

"It  is  your  wishes,  Mr.  Cliuzzlewit,"  she  said,  in  a  sort 
of  quavering  croak,  "  to  see  the  t'other  person.     Is  it  .?  " 

But  the  ghastly  change  in  Jonas  told  her  that  the  other 
person  was  already  seen.  Before  she  could  look  round  to- 
wards the  door,  she  was  put  aside  by  old  Martin's  hand  ;  and 
Chuffey  and  John  Westlock  entered  with  him. 

"Let  no  one  leave  the  house,"  said  Martin.  "This  man 
is  my  brother's  son.  Ill-met,  ill-trained,  ill-begotten.  If  he 
moves  from  the  spot  on  which  he  stands,  or  speaks  a  word 
above  his  breath  to  any  person  here,  open  the  window,  and 
call  for  help  !  " 

"  What  right  have  you  to  give  such  directions  in  this 
house?  "  asked  Jonas  faintly. 

"  The  right  of  your  wrong-doing.     Come  in  there  !  " 

An  irrepressible  exclamation  burst  from  the  lips  of  Jonas, 
as  Lewsome  entered  at  the  door.  It  was  not  a  groan,  or  a 
shriek,  or  a  word,  but  was  wholly  unlike  any  sound  that  had 
ever  fallen  on  the  ears  of  those  who  heard  it,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  was  the  most  sharp  and  terrible  expression  of 
what  was  working  in  his  guilty  breast,  that  nature  could  have 
invented. 

He  had  done  murder  for  this!  He  had  girdled  himself 
about  with  perils,  agonies  of  mind,  innumerable  fears,  for  this  ! 
He  had  hidden  his  secret  in  the  wood  ;  pressed  and  stamped 
it  down  into  the  bloody  ground  ;  and  here  it  started  up  when 
least  expected,  miles  upon  miles  away  ;  known  to  many  ;  pro- 
claiming itself  from  the  lips  of  an  old  man  who  had  renewed 
his  strength  and  vigor  as  by  a  miracle,  to  give  it  voice  against 
him  ! 

He  leaned  his  hand  on  the  back  of  a  chnir,  and  looked 
at  them.  It  was  in  vain  to  try  to  do  so,  scornfully  ;  or  with 
his  usual  insolence.  He  required  the  chair  for  his  support. 
But  he  made  a  struggle  for  it. 

"  I  know  that  fellow,"  he  said,  fetching  his  breath  at  every 
word,  and  pointing  his  trembling  finger  toward  Lewsome. 
"  He's  the  greatest  liar  alive.  What's  his  last  tale  ?  Ha,  ha  I 
You're  rare  fellows  too  !  Why,  that  uncle  of  mine  is  childish ; 
he's  even  a  greater  child  than  his  brother,  my  father,  was,  in 
his    old  age  ;  or   than    CJhufl'ey   is.     What  the    dc\  il   do  you 


-^5  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

mean,"  he  added,  looking  fiercely  at  John  Westlock  and  Mark 

Tapley  (the  latter  had  entered  with  Lewsome),  "by  coming 
here,  and  bringing  two  idots  and  a  knave  with  you  to  take  my 
house  by  storm.  Hallo,  there  !  Open  the  door  !  Turn  these 
strangers  out !  " 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  coming  forward,  "if 
it  wasn't  for  your  name,  I'd  drag  you  through  the  streets  of 
my  own  accord,  and  single-handed,  I  would  !  Ah,  I  would  ! 
Don"t  try  and  look  bold  at  me.  You  can't  do  it  !  Now  go 
on,  sir,"  this  was  to  old  Martin.  "  Bring  the  murderin'  waga- 
bond  upon  his  knees !  If  he  wants  noise,  he  shall  have 
enough  of  it ;  for  as  sure  as  he's  a  shivering  from  head  to  foot, 
I'll  raise  a  uproar  at  this  winder  that  shall  bring  half  London 
in.  Go  on,  sir  !  Let  him  try  me  once,  and  see  whether  I'm  a 
man  of  my  word  or  not." 

With  that,  Mark  folded  his  arms,  and  took  his  seat  upon 
the  window-ledge,  with  an  air  of  general  preparation  for  any- 
thing, which  seemed  to  imply  that  he  was  equally  ready  to 
jump  out  himself,  or  to  throw  Jonas  out,  upon  receiving  the 
slightest  hint  that  it  would  be  agreeable  to  the  company. 

Old  Martin  turned  to  Lewsome  : 

"This  is  the  man,"  he   said,   extending  his  hand  towards 

Jonas.     "  Is  it  ?  " 

"  You  need  do  no  more  than  look  at  him  to  be  sure  of  that, 
or  of  the  truth  of  what  I  have  said.        He  is  my  witness." 

"  Oh,  brother !  "  cried  old  Martin,  clasping  his  hands  and 
lifting  up  his  eyes.  "  Oh,  brother,  brother  !  Were  we  strangers 
half  our  lives  that  you  might  breed  a  wretch  like  this,  and  I 
make  life  a  desert  by  withering  every  flower  that  grew  about 
me  !  Is  it  the  natural  end  of  your  precepts  and  mine,  that 
this  should  be  the  creature  of  your  rearing,  training,  teaching, 
hoarding,  striving  for  :  and  I  the  means  of  bringing  him  to 
punishment,  when  nothing  can  repair  the  wasted  past  ! " 

He  sat  down  upon  a  chair  as  he  spoke,  and  turning  away 
his  face,  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  with  recovered 
energy  he  proceeded  : 

"  Biit  the  accursed  harvest  of  our  mistaken  lives  shall  be 
trodden  down.  It  is  not  too  late  for  that.  You  are  confronted 
with  this  man,  yon  monster  there  ;  not  to  be  spared,  but  to  be 
dealt  with  justily.  Hear  what  he  says  !  Reply,  be  silent, 
contradict,  repeat,  defy,  do  what  you  please.  My  course  will 
be  the  same.  Go  on  !  And  you,"  he  said  to  Chuffey,  "for 
the  love  of  your  old  friend,  speak  out,  good  fellow ! " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  777 

"  I  have  been  silent  for  his  love  !  "  cried  the  old  man. 
"  He  urged  me  to  it.  He  made  me  promise  it  upon  his  dying 
bed.  I  never  would  have  spoken,  but  for  you  finding  out  so 
much.  I  have  thought  about  it  ever  since  :  I  couldn't  help 
that :  and  sometimes  I  have  had  it  all  before  me  in  a  dream  : 
but  in  the  day-time,  not  in  sleep.  Is  there  such  a  kind  of 
dream  ? "  said  Chuffey.  looking  anxiously  in  old  Martin's  face 

As  Martin  made  him  an  encouraging  reply,  he  listened  at- 
tentively to  his  voice  ;  and  smiled. 

"Ah,  ay  !  "  he  cried  "He  often  spoke  to  me  like  that. 
We  were  at  school  together,  he  and  I.  I  couldn't  turn  against 
his  son,  you  know — his  only  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ! " 

"  I  would  to  heaven  you  had  been  his  son  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  You  speak  so  like  my  dear  old-  master,"  cried  the  old 
man  with  a  childish  delight,  "  that  I  almost  think  I  hear 
him.  I  can  hear  you  quite  as  well  as  fused  to  hear  him.  It 
makes  me  young  again.  He  never  spoke  unkindly  to  me, 
and  I  always  understood  him.  I  could  always  see  him  too, 
though  my  sight  was  dim.  Well,  Well!  He's  dead,  he's 
dead.     He  was  very  good  to  me,  my  dear  old  master  !  " 

He  shook  his  head  mournfully  over  the  brother's  hand. 
At  this  moment  Mark,  who  had  been  glancing  out  of  the  win- 
dow, left  the  room. 

"I  couldn't  turn  against  his  only  son,  you  know,"  said 
Chuffey.  "  He  has  nearly  driven  me  to  do  it  sometimes  ;  he 
very  nearly  did  it  to-night.  Ah  !"  cried  the  old  man,  with  a 
sudden  recollection  of  the  cause.  "  Where  is  she  !  She's  not 
come  home  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  his  wife  !  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  have  removed  her.  She  is  in  my  care,  and  will  be 
spared  the  present  knowledge  of  what  is  passing  here.  She 
has  known  miser)'  enough,  without  that  addition." 

Jonas  heard  this  with  a  smking  heart.  He  knew  that  they 
were  on  his  heels,  and  felt  that  they  were  resolute  to  run  him 
to  destruction.  Inch  by  inch  the  ground  beneath  him  was 
sliding  from  his  feet  ;  faster  and  faster  the  encircling  ruin  con- 
tractetl  and  contracted  towards  himself,  its  wicked  centre,  until 
it  should  close  in  and  crush  him. 

And  now  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  accomplice  stating  to 
his  face,  with  every  circumstance  of  time  and  place  and  in- 
cident ;  and  openly  proclaiming,  with  no  reserve,  suppression, 
passion,   or  concealment  ;  all    the    truth.     The   truth,    which 


778 


MAR77N  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


nothing  would  keep  down  ;  which  blood  would  not  smother, 
and  earth  would  not  hide  ;  the  truth,  whose  terrible  inspira- 
tion seemed  to  change  dotards  into  strong  men  ;  and  on  whose 
avenging  wings,  one  whom  he  had  supposed  to  be  at  the  ex- 
tremest  corner  of  the  earth  came  swooping  down  upon  him. 

He  tried  to  deny  it,  but  his  tongue  would  not  move.  He 
conceived  some  desperate  thought  of  rushing  away,  and  tear- 
ing through  the  streets  ;  but  his  limbs  would  as  little  answer 
to  his  will  as  his  stark,  stiff,  staring  face.  All  this  time  the 
voice  went  slowly  on,  denouncing  him.  It  was  as  if  every 
drop  of  blood  in  the  wood  had  found  a  voice  to  jeer  him  with. 

When  it  ceased,  another  voice  took  up  the  tale,  but 
strangely  ;  for  the  old  clerk,  who  had  watched,  and  listened 
to  the  whole,  and  had  wrung  his  hands  from  time  to  time,  as 
if  he  knew  its  truth  and  could  confirm  it,  broke  in  with  these 
words  : 

"No,  no,  no  !  you  are  wrong;  you're  wrong — all  wrong  to- 
gether !     Have  patience,  for  the  truth  is  only  known  to  me  !  " 

"How  can  that  be,"  said  his  old  master's  brother,  "after 
what  you  have  heard  ?  Besides,  you  said  just  now,  above 
stairs,  when  I  told  you  the  accusation  against  him,  that  you 
knew  he  was  his  father's  murderer." 

"  Ay,  yes  !  and  so  he  was  !  "  cried  Chufifey  wildly.  "  But 
not  as  you  suppose — not  as  you  suppose.  Stay  !  Give  me  a 
moment's  time.  I  have  it  all  here — all  here  !  It  w^as  foul, 
foul,  cruel,  bad  ;  but  not  as  you  suppose.     Stay,  Stay  !  " 

He  put  his  hands  up  to  his  head,  as  if  it  throbbed  or  pained 
him.  After  looking  about  him  in  a  wandering  and  vacant 
manner  for  some  moments,  his  eyes  rested  upon  Jonas,  when 
they  kindled  up  with  sudden  recollection  and  intelligence. 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  old  Chuffey,  "  yes  !  That's  how  it  was.  It's 
all  upon  me  now.  He — he  got  up  from  his  bed  before  he 
died,  to  be  sure,  to  say  that  he  forgave  him,  and  he  came 
down  with  me  into  this  room  ;  and  when  he  saw  him — his  only 
son,  the  son  he  loved — his  speech  forsook  him  :  he  had  no 
speech  for  what  he  knew — and  no  one  understood  him  except 
me.     But  I  did— I  did  !  " 

Old  Martin  regarded  him  in  amazement ;  so  did  his  com- 
panions. Mrs  Gamp,  who  had  said  nothing  yet ;  but  had 
kept  two-thirds  of  herself  behind  the  door,  ready  for  escape, 
and  one-third  in  the  room,  ready  for  siding  with  the  strongest 
party  ;  came  a  little  further  in  and  remarked,  with  a  sob,  that 
Mr.  Chuffey  was  "the  sweetest  old  creetur  goin'. 


n 


A/A A"  TLV  CHUZZLE  WTT.  779 

"  He  bought  the  stuff,"  said  Chuffey,  stretching  out  his 
arm  towards  Jonas,  while  an  unwonted  fire  shone  in  his  eye, 
and  lightened  up  his  face ;  "  he  bought  tiie  stuff,  no  doubt,  as 
you  have  heard,  and  brought  it  home.  He  mixed  the  stuff 
—look  at  him  ! — with  some  sweetmeat  in  a  jar,  exactly  as  the 
medicine  for  his  father's  cough  was  mixed,  and  put  it  in  a 
drawer ;  in  that  drawer  yonder  in  the  desk  ;  he  knows  which 
drawer  I  mean  !  He  kept  it  there  locked  up.  But  his  cour- 
age failed  him,  or  his  heart  was  touched — my  God  !  I  hope 
it  was  his  heart !  He  was  his  only  son  ! — and  he  did  not  put 
it  in  the  usual  place,  where  my  old  master  would  have  taken 
it  twenty  times  a-day." 

The  trembling  figure  of  the  old  man  shook  with  the  strong 
emotions  that  possessed  him.  But,  with  the  same  light  in  his 
eye,  and  with  his  arm  outstretched,  and  with  his  gray  hair 
stirring  on  his  head,  he  seemed  to  grow  in  size,  and  was  like 
a  man  inspired.  Jonas  shrunk  from  looking  at  him,  and  cow- 
ered down  into  the  chair  by  which  h.e  had  held.  It  seemed 
as  if  this  tremendous  Truth  could  make  the  dumb  speak. 

"  I  know  it  every  word  now  !  "  cried  Chuffey.  "  Every 
word  !  He  put  it  in  that  drawer,  as  I  ha\e  said.  He  went 
so  often  there,  and  was  so  secret,  that  his  father  took  notice 
of  it  ;  and  when  he  was  out  had  it  opened.  We  were  there 
together,  and  we  found  the  mixture — Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and  I. 
He  took  it  into  his  possession,  and  made  light  of  it  at  the 
time  ;  but  in  the  night  he  came  to  my  bed-side,  weeping,  and 
told  me  that  his  own  son  had  it  in  his  mind  to  poison  him. 
'  Oh,  Chuff,'  he  said,  'oh,  dear  old  Chuff  !  a  voice  came  into 
my  room  to-night,  and  told  me  that  this  crime  began  with  me. 
It  began  when  I  taught  him  to  be  too  covetous  of  what  I  ba\e 
to  leave,  and  made  the  expectation  of  it  his  great  business  ! ' 
Those  were  his  words  ;  ay,  they  are  his  very  words  !  If  he 
was  a  hard  man  now  and  then,  it  was  for  his  only  son.  He 
loved  his  only  son,  and  he  was  always  good  to  me  !  " 

Jonas  listened  with  increased  attention.  Hope  was  break- 
ing in  upon  him. 

"  '  He  shall  not  weary  for  my  death.  Chuff  : '  that  was 
what  he  said  next,"  pursued  the  old  clerk,  as  he  wiped  his 
eyes  ;  "  that  was  what  he  said  next,  crying  like  a  little  child  : 
'  He  shall  not  weary  for  my  death.  Chuff.  He  shall  have  it 
now  ;  he  shall  marry  where  he  has  a  fanc}^  Chuff,  although  it 
don't  please  me  ;  and  you  and  1  will  go  away  and  li\e  upon  a 
little.     I  always  loved  him  ;  perhaps  he'll  lo\e  mc  then.     It's 


780  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

a  dreadful  thing  to  htive  my  own  child  thirsting  for  my  death. 
But  I  might  have  known  it.  I  have  sown,  and  I  must  reap. 
He  shall  believe  that  I  am  taking  this  ;  and  when  I  see  that 
he  is  sorry,  and  has  all  he  wants,  I'll  tell  him  that  I  found  it 
out,  and  I'll  forgive  him.  He'll  make  a  better  man  of  his 
own  son,  and  be  a  better  man  himself,  perhaps,  Chutf  !  '  " 

Poor  Chuffey  paused  to  dry  his  eyes  again.  Old  Martin's 
face  was  hidden  in  his  hands.  Jonas  listened  still  more 
keenly,  and  his  breast  heaved  like  a  swollen  water,  but  with 
hope.     With  growing  hope. 

"  My  dear  old  master  made  believe  next  day,"  said  Chuf- 
fey, "  that  he  had  opened  the  drawer  by  mistake  with  a  key 
from  the  bunch,  which  happened  to  fit  it  (we  had  one  made 
and  hung  upon  it)  ;  and  that  he  had  been  surprised  to  find 
his  fresh  supply  of  cough  medicine  in  such  a  place,  but  sup- 
posed it  had  been  put  there  in  a  hurry  when  the  drawer  stood 
open.  We  burnt  it  ;  but  his  son  believed  that  he  was  taking 
it — he  knows  he  did.  Once  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  try  him  took 
heart  to  say  it  had  a  strange  taste  ;  and  he  got  up  directly, 
and  went  out." 

Jonas  gave  a  short,  dry  cough  ;  and,  changing  his  position 
for  an  easier  one,  folded  his  arms  without  looking  at  them, 
though  they  could  now  see  his  face. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  wrote  to  her  father ;  I  mean  the  father 
of  the  poor  thing  who's  his  wife  ;  "  said  Chuffey  ;  "  and  got 
him  to  come  up  :  intending  to  hasten  on  the  marriage.  But 
his  mind,  like  mine,  went  a  little  wrong  through  gnef,  and 
then  his  heart  broke.  He  sank  and  altered  from  "the  time 
when  he  came  to  me  in  the  night ;  and  never  held  up  his  head 
again.  It  was  only  a  few  days,  but  he  had  never  changed  so 
much  in  twice  the  years.  '  Spare  him.  Chuff !  '  he  said,  before 
he  died.  They  were  the  only  words  he  could  speak.  '  Spare 
him.  Chuff!'  I  promised  him  I  would.  I've  tried  to  do  it. 
He's  his  only  son." 

In  his  recollection  of  the  last  scene  in  his  old  friend's  life, 
poor  Chuffey's  voice,  which  had  grown  weaker  and  weaker, 
quite  deserted  him.  Making  a  motion  with  his  hand,  as  if 
he  would  have  said  that  Anthony  had  taken  it,  and  had  died 
with  it  in  his,  he  retreated  to  the  corner  where  he  usually  con- 
cealed his  sorrows  ;  and  was  silent. 

Jonas  could  look  at  his  company  now,  and  vauntingly  too. 
"  Well !  "  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  Are  you  satisfied  t  Or 
have  you  any  more  of  your  plots  to  broach  t    Why  that  fellow, 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  781 

Lewsome,  can  invent  'em  for  you  by  the  score.     Is  this  all  ? 
Have  you  nothing  else  ?  " 

Old  Martin  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"Wliether  you  are  what  you  seemed  to  be  at  Pecksniff's, 
or  are  something  else  and  a  mountebank,  I  don't  know  and  I 
don't  care,"  said  Jonas,  looking  downward  with  a  smile,  "  but 
I  don't  want  you  here.  You  were  here  so  often  w-hen  your 
brother  was  alive,  and  were  always  so  fond  of  him  (your  dear, 
dear  brother,  and  you  would  have  been  cuffing  one  another 
before  this,  ecod !),  that  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  being  at- 
tached to  the  place  ;  but  the  place  is  not  attached  to  you,  and 
you  can't  leave  it  too  soon,  though  you  may  leave  it  too  late. 
And  for  my  wife,  old  man,  send  her  home  straight,  or  it  will 
be  the  worse  for  her.  Ha  ha  !  You  carry  it  with  a  high 
hand  too  I  But  it  isn't  hanging  yet  for  a  man  to  keep  a 
penn'orth  of  poison  for  his  own  purposes,  and  have  it  taken 
from  him  by  two  old  crazy  jolter-heads  who  go  and  act  a 
play  about  it.     Ha,  ha  !     Do  you  see  the  door  ?  " 

His  base  triumph,  struggling  with  his  cowardice,  and 
shame,  and  guilt,  was  so  detestable,  that  they  turned  away 
from  him,  as  if  he  were  some  obscene  and  filthy  animal,  repug- 
nant to  the  sight.  And  here  that  last  black  crime  was  busy 
with  him  too  ;  working  within  him  to  his  perdition.  But  for 
that,  the  old  clerk's  story  might  have  touched  him,  though 
never  so  lightly  ;  but  for  that,  the  sudden  removal  of  so  great 
a  load  might  have  brought  about  some  wholesome  change 
even  in  him.  With  that  deed  done,  however  ;  with  that  un- 
necessaiy  wasteful  danger  haunting  him  ;  despair  was  in  his 
very  triumph  and  relief;  wild,  ungovernable,  raging  despair, 
for  the  uselessness  of  the  peril  into  which  he  had  plunged  ; 
despair  that  hardened  him  and  maddened  him,  and  set  his 
teeth  a  grinding  in  a  moment  of  his  exultation. 

"  My  good  friend  !  "  said  old  Martin,  laying  his  hand  on 
Chuffey's  sleeve.  "  This  is  no  place  for  you  to  remain  in. 
Come  with  me." 

"  Just  his  old  way  !  "  cried  Chuffey,  looking  up  into  his 
face.  "  I  almost  believe  it's  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  alive  again. 
Yes  !     Take  me  with  you  I     Stay,  though,  stay." 

"  For  what  ?  "  asked  old  Martin. 

"  I  can't  leave  her,  poor  thing !  "  said  Chuffey.  "•  She 
has  been  very  good  to  me.  I  can't  leave  her,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 
Thank  you  kindly.  I'll  remain  here.  I  haven't  long  to  re- 
main \  it's  no  great  matter." 


7 82  ^1/^-^^  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

As  he  meekly  shook  his  poor,  gray  head,  and  thanked  old 
Martin  in  these  words,  Mrs.  Gamp,  now  entirely  in  the  room, 
was  affected  to  tears. 

"  The  mercy  as  it  is !  "  she  said,  "  as  sech  a  dear,  good, 
reverend  creetur,  never  got  into  the  clutches  of  Betsey  Prig, 
which  but  for  me  he  would  have  done,  undoubted,  facts  bein' 
stubborn  and  not  easy  drove  !  " 

"  You  heard  me  speak  to  you  just  now,  old  man,"  said 
Jonas  to  his  uncle,  "  I'll  have  no  more  tampering  with  my 
people,  man  or  woman.     Do  you  see  the  door.?  " 

"  Do  yoH  see  the  door  t  "  returned  the  voice  of  Mark,  com 
ing  from  that  dirction.     "  Look  at  it  I  " 

He  looked,  and  his  gaze  was  nailed  there.  Fatal,  ill- 
omened,  blighted  threshold,  cursed  by  his  father's  footsteps 
in  his  dying  hour,  cursed  by  his  young  wife's  sorrowing  tread, 
cursed  by  the  daily  shadow  of  the  old  clerk's  figure,  cursed  by 
the  crossing  of  his  murderer's  feet — what  men  were  standing 
in  the  doorway ! 

Nadgett  foremost. 

Hark  !  It  came  on,  roaring  like  a  sea  !  Hawkers  burst 
into  the  street,  crying  it  up  and  down  ;  windows  were  thrown 
open  that  the  inhabitants  might  hear  it  ;  people  stopped  to 
listen  in  the  road  and  on  the  pavement  ;  the  bells,  the  same 
bells,  began  to  ring  :  tumbling  over  one  another  in  a  dance  of 
boisterous  joy  at  the  discovery  (that  was  the  sound  they  had 
in  his  distempered  thoughts),  and  making  their  airy  playground 
rock. 

"  That  is  the  man,"  said  Nadgett.     "  By  the  window  !'' 

Three  others  came  in,  laid  hands  upon  him,  and  secured 
him.  It  was  so  quickly  done,  that  he  had  not  lost  sight  of  the 
informer's  face  for  an  instant  when  his  wrists  were  manacled 
together. 

"  Murder,"  said  Nadgett,  looking  round  on  the  astonished 
group.     "  Let  no  one  interfere." 

The  sounding  street  repeated  Murder  ,•  barbarous  and 
dreadful  Murder  ;  Murder,  Murder,  Murder.  Rolling  on  from 
house  to  house,  and  echoing  from  stone  to  stone,  until  the 
voices  died  away  into  thedistant  hum,  which  seemed  to  mutter 
the  same  word  ! 

They  all  stood  silent :  listening,  and  gazing  in  each  other's 
faces,  as  the  noise  passed  on. 

Old  Martin  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  What  terrible  history 
is  this  ?  "  he  demanded. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWfT.  7S3 

"  Ask  him,^  said  Nadgett.  "  You're  his  friend,  sir.  He 
can  tell  you,  if  he  will.  He  knows  more  of  it  than  I  do,  though 
1  know  much." 

"  How  do  you  know  much  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  been  watching  him  so  long  for  nothing,"  re- 
turned Nadgett.  "  I  never  watched  a  man  so  close  as  I 
have  watched  him." 

Another  of  the  phantom  forms  of  this  terrific  Truth  !  An- 
other of  the  many  shapes  in  which  it  started  up  about  him,  out 
of  vacancy.  This  man,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  a  spy  upon 
him  ;  this  man,  changing  his  identity  :  casting  oil  his  shrinking, 
purblind,  unobservant  character,  and  springing  up  into  a 
watchful  enemy !  The  dead  man  might  have  come  out  of  his 
grave,  and  not  confounded  and  appalled  him  more. 

The  game  was  up.  The  race  was  at  an  end  ;  the  rope  was 
woven  for  his  neck.  If,  by  a  miracle,  he  could  escape  from 
this  strait,  he  had  but  to  turn  his  face  another  way,  no  matter 
where,  and  there  would  rise  some  new  avenger  front  to  front 
with  him  ;  some  infant  in  an  hour  grown  old,  or  old  man  in  an 
hour  grown  young,  or  blind  man  with  his  sight  restored,  or 
deaf  man  with  his  hearing  given  him.  There  was  no  chance. 
He  sank  down  in  a  heap  against  the  wall,  and  never  hoped 
again  from  that  moment. 

"  I  am  not  his  friend,  although  I  have  the  dishonor  to  be 
his  relative,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  You  may  speak  to  me. 
Where  have  you  watched,  and  what  have  you  seen .''  " 

"  I  have  watched  in  many  places,"  returned  Nadgett, 
"  night  and  day.  I  have  watched  him  lately,  almost  without 
rest  or  relief  ;  "  his  anxious  face  and  bloodshot  eyes  confirmed 
it.  "  I  little  thought  to  what  my  watching  was  to  lead.  As 
little  as  he  did  when  he  slipped  out  in  the  night,  dressed  in 
those  clothes  which  he  afterwards  sunk  in  a  bundle  at  London 
Bridge  !  " 

Jonas  moved  upon  the  ground  like  a  man  in  bodily  torture. 
He  uttered  a  suppressed  groan,  as  if  he  had  been  wounded  by 
some  cruel  weapon  ;  and  plucked  at  the  iron  band  upon  his 
wrists,  as  though  (his  hands  being  free)  he  would  have  torn 
himself. 

"  Steady,  kinsman  !  "  said  the  chief  officer  of  the  party. 
"  Don't  be  violent." 

"  Whom  do  you  call  kinsman  ?  "  asked  old  Martin  sternly. 

"  You,"  said  the  man,  "  among  others." 

Martin  turned  his  scrutinizing  gaze  upon  him.     He  was 


y^^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWir. 

sitting  lazily  across  a  chair  with  his  arms  restiiVa;  on  the  back  ; 
eating  nuts,  and  throwing  the  shells  out  of  window  as  he 
cracked  them ;  which  he  still  continued  to  do  while  speaking. 

"  Ay,"  he  said,  with  a  sulky  nod.  You  may  deny  your 
nephews  till  you  die,  but  Chevy  Slyme  is  Chevy  Slyme  still,  all 
the  world  o\er.  Perhaps  even  you  may  feel  it  some  disgrace 
to  your  own  blood  to  be  employed  in  this  way.  I'm  to  be 
bought  off." 

"  At  every  turn  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  Self,  self,  self.  Every 
one  among  them  for  himself  !  " 

"  You  had  better  save  one  or  two  among  them  the  trouble 
then,  and  be  for  them  as  well  as  j'(7//;'self,"  replied  his  nephew. 
"  Look  here  at  me  !  Can  you  see  the  man  of  your  family  who 
has  more  talent  in  his  little  finger  than  all  the  rest  in  their 
united  brains,  dressed  as  a  police  officer  without  being 
ashamed  .''  I  took  up  with  this  trade  on  purpose  to  shame  you. 
I  didn'  t  think  I  should  have  to  make  a  capture  in  the  family, 
though." 

"  If  your  debauchery,  and  that  of  your  chosen  friends,  has 
really  brought  you  to  this  level,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  keep 
it.     You  are  living  honestly,  I  hope,  and  that's  something." 

"  Don't  be  hard  upon  my  chosen  friends,"  returned  Slyme, 
"  for  they  were  sometimes  your  chosen  friends  too.  Don't 
say  you  never  employed  my  friend  Tigg,  for  I  know  better. 
We  quarrelled  upon  it." 

"  I  hired  the  fellow,"  retorted  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  and  I 
paid  him." 

"  It's  well  you  paid  him,"  said  his  nephew,  "  for  it  would 
be  too  late  to  do  so  now.  He  has  given  his  receipt  in  full — 
or  had  it  forced  from  him  rather." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  curious  to  know 
what  he  meant,  but  scorned  to  prolong  the  conversation. 

"  I  have  always  expected  that  he  and  I  would  be  brought 
together  again  in  the  course  of  business,"  said  Slyme,  taking 
a  fresh  handful  of  nuts  from  his  pocket ;  "  but  I  thought  he 
would  be  wanted  for  some  swindling  job  :  it  never  entered  my 
head  that  I  should  hold  a  warrant  for  the  apprehension  of  his 
murderer." 

"  His  murderer !  "  cried  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  looking  from  one 
to  another. 

"  His  or  Mr.  Montague's,"  said  Nadgett.  "  They  are  the 
same,  I  am  told.  I  accuse  him  yonder  of  the  murder  of  Mr. 
Montague,  who  was  found  last  night,  killed   in  a  wood.     You 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 


78s 


will  ask  me  why  I  accuse  him,  as  you  have  already  asked  me  how 
I  know  so  much.     I'll  tell  you.     It  can't  remain  a  secret  long." 

The  ruling  passion  of  the  man  expressed  itself  even  then, 
in  the  tone  of  regret  in  which  he  deplored  the  approaching 
publicity  of  what  he  knew. 

"  I  told  you  I  had  watched  him,"  he  proceeded.  "  I  was 
instructed  to  do  so  by  Mr.  Montague,  in  whose  employment  I 
have  been  for  some  time.  We  had  our  suspicions  of  him  ; 
and  you  know  what  they  pointed  at,  for  you  have  been  discuss- 
ing it  since  we  have  been  waiting  here,  outside  the  room.  If 
you  care  to  hear  now  it's  all  over,  in  what  our  suspicions  be- 
gan, I'll  tell  you  plainly  :  in  a  quarrel  (it  first  came  to  our 
ears  through  a  hint  of  his  own)  between  him  and  another 
office  in  which  his  father's  life  was  insured,  and  which  had  so 
much  doubt  and  distrust  upon  the  subject,  that  he  compounded 
with  them,  and  took  half  the  money  ;  and  was  glad  to  do  it. 
Bit  by  bit,  I  ferreted  out  more  circumstances  against  him, 
and  not  a  few.  It  required  a  little  patience,  but  it's  my  call- 
ing. I  found  the  nurse — here  she  is  to  confirm  me  ;  I  found 
the  doctor,  I  found  the  undertaker,  I  found  the  undertaker's 
man.  I  found  out  how  the  old  gentleman  there,  Mr.  Chuffey 
had  behaved  at  the  funeral  ;  and  I  found  out  what  this  man," 
touching  Lewsome  on  the  arm,  "  had  talked  about  in  his  fever. 
I  found  out  how  he  conducted  himself  before  his  father's 
death,  and  how  since,  and  how  at  the  time  ;  and  writing  it  all 
down,  and  putting  it  carefully  together,  made  case  enough  for 
Mr.  Montague  to  tax  him  with  the  crime,  which  (as  he  himself 
believed  until  to-night)  he  had  committed.  I  was  by  when 
this  was  done.  You  see  him  now.  He  is  only  worse  than  he 
was  then." 

Oh,  miserable,  miserable  fool !  oh,  insupportable,  excrucia- 
ting torture  !  To  find  alive  and  active — a  party  to  it  all — the 
brain  and  right-hand  of  the  secret  he  had  thought  to  crush  ! 
In  whom,  though  he  had  walled  the  murdered  man  up,  by 
enchantment  in  a  rock,  the  story  would  have  lived  and  walked 
abroad  !  He  tried  to  stop  iiis  ears  with  his  fettered  arms, 
that  he  might  shut  out  the  rest. 

As  he  crouched  upon  the  floor,  they  drew  away  from  him 
as  if  a  pestilence  were  in  his  breath.  They  fell  off,  one  by 
one.  from  that  part  of  the  room,  leaving  him  alone  upon  the 
ground.  Even  those  who  had  him  in  their  keeping  shunned 
him,  and  (with  the  exception  of  Slyme,  who  was  still  occupied 
with  his  nuts)  kept  apart. 

50 


786  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WTT. 

"  From  that  garret-window  opposite,"  said  Nadgett,  point- 
ing across  the  narrow  street,  "  I  have  watched  this  house  and 
him  for  days  and  nights.  From  that  garret-window  opposite  I 
saw  him  return  liome,  alone,  from  a  journey  on  which  he  had 
set  out  with  Mr.  Montague.  That  was  my  token  that  Mr. 
Montague's  end  was  gained  ;  and  I  might  rest  easy  on  my 
watch,  though  I  was  not  to  leave  it  until  he  dismissed  me. 
But,  standing  at  the  door  opposite,  after  dark  that  same  night, 
I  saw  a  countryman  steal  out  of  this  house,  by  a  side-door  in 
the  court,  who  had  never  entered  it.  I  knew  his  walk,  and 
that  it  was  himself,  disguised.  I  followed  him  immediately. 
1  lost  him  on  the  western  road,  still  travelling  westward." 

Jonas  looked  up  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  muttered  an 
oath. 

"  I  could  not  comprehend  what  this  meant,"  said  Nadgett ; 
"  but,  having  seen  so  much,  I  resolved  to  see  it  out,  and 
through.  And  I  did.  Learning,  on  inquiry  at  his  house 
from  his  wife,  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  sleeping  in  the  room 
from  which  I  had  seen  him  go  out,  and  that  he  had  given 
strict  orders  not  to  be  disturbed,  I  knew  that  he  was  coming 
back  ;  and  for  his  coming  back  I  watched.  I  kept  my  watch 
in  the  street — in  doorways,  and  such  places — all  that  night ; 
at  the  same  window,  all  next  day  ;  and  when  night  came  on 
again,  in  the  street  once  more.  For  I  knew  he  would  come 
back,  as  he  had  gone  out,  when  this  part  of  the  town  was 
empty.  He  did.  Early  in  the  morning,  the  same  country- 
man came  creeping,  creeping,  creeping  home." 

"  Look  sharp!  "  interposed  Slyme,  who  had  now  finished 
his  nuts.     "  This  is  quite  irregular,  Mr.  Nadgett." 

"  I  kept  at  the  window  all  day,"  said  Nadgett,  without 
heeding  him.  "  I  think  1  never  closed  my  eyes.  At  night,  I 
saw  him  come  out  with  a  bundle.  I  followed  him  again.  He 
went  down  the  steps  at  London  Bridge,  and  sunk  it  in  the 
river.  I  now  began  to  entertain  some  serious  fears,  and 
made  a  communication  to  the  Police,  which  caused  that 
bundle  to  be —  " 

"  To  be  fished  up,"  interrupted  Slyme.  "  Be  alive,  Mr. 
Nadgett." 

"  It  contained  the  dress  I  had  seen  him  wear,"  said 
Nadgett  ;  "  stained  with  clay,  and  spotted  with  blood.  In- 
formation of  the  murder  was  received  in  town  last  night. 
The  wearer  of  that  dress  is  already  known  to  have  been  seen 
near  the  place ;  to  have  been  lurking  in  that  neighborhood ; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  787 

and  to  have  alighted  from  a  coach  coming  from  that  part  of 
the  country,  at  a  time  exactly  tallying  with  the  very  minute 
when  I  saw  him  returning  home.  The  warrant  has  been  out, 
and  these  officers  have  been  with  me,  some  hours.  We  chose 
our  time  ;  and  seeing  you  come  in,  and  seeing  this  person  at 
the  window — " 

"  Beci  oned  to  him,"  said  Mark,  taking  up  the  thread  of 
the  narrc  dvc,  on  hearing  this  allusion  to  himself,  "  to  open 
the  door;  v  hich  he  did  with  a  deal  of  pleasure." 

"That"':,  all  at  present,"  said  Nadgett,  putting  up  his 
great  poc)  i:-book,  which  from  mere  habit  he  had  produced 
when  he  ve'gan  his  revelation,  and  had  kept  in  his  hand  all 
the  tim'.  ;  'but  there  is  plenty  more  to  come.  You  asked 
me  for  ti ,--  facts,  so  far  I  have  related  them,  and  need  not 
detain  ti-  r..e  gentlemen  any  longer.  Are  you  ready,  Mr. 
Sly  me?',  r- 

"An  ssomething  more,"  replied  that  worthy  rising.  "If 
you  wa'  round  to  the  office,  we  shall  be  there  as  soon  as 
you.     'J     n  !     Get  a  coach  !  " 

The  jfficer  to  whom  he  spoke  departed  for  that  purpose. 
Old  Martin  lingered  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  he  would  have 
address(  \  some  words  to  Jonas  ;  but  looking  round,  and 
.  seeing  him  still  seated  on  the  floor,  rocking  himself  in  a 
savage  jnanner  to  and  fro,  took  Chuffey's  arm,  and  slowly 
followed  Nadgett  out.  John  Westlock  and  Mark  Tapley 
acconp'  nied  them.  Mrs.  Gamp  had  tottered  out  first,  for  the 
better  aisplay  of  her  feelings,  in  a  kind  of  walking  swoon  ; 
for  Mr  Gamp  performed  swoons  of  different  sorts,  upon  a 
moden  lC  notice,  as  Mr.  Mould  did  Funerals. 

"  Ha  !  "  muttered  Slyme,  looking  after  them.  "  Upon  my 
soul  1  As  insensible  of  being  disgraced,  by  having  such  a 
nephew  as  myself,  in  such  a  situation,  as  he  was  of  my  being 
an  honor  and  a  credit  to  the  family  !  That's  the  return  I  get 
for  having  humbled  my  spirit — such  a  spirit  as  mine — to  earn 
a  livelihood,  is  it  ?  " 

He  got  up  from  his  chair,  and  kicked  it  away  indignantly. 

"  And  such  a  livelihood  too  !  When  there  are  hundreds 
of  men,  not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to  me  rolling  in  carriages  and 
living  on  their  fortunes.   •  Upon  my  soul  it's  a  nice  world  !  " 

His  eyes  encountered  Jonas,  who  looked  earnestly  towards 
him,  and  moved  his  lips  as  if  he  were  whispering. 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  Slyme. 

Jonas  glanced  at  the  attendant  whose  back  was  towards 


788  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

him,  and  made  a  clumsy  motion  with  his  bound  hands  towards 
the  door. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Slyme,  thoughtfully.  "  I  couldn't  hope 
to  disgrace  him  into  anything  when  you  have  shot  so  far 
ahead  of  me  though.     I  fore:ot  that." 

Jonas  repeated  the  same  look  and  gesture. 

"Jack!  "  said  Slyme. 

"  Hallo  !  "  returned  his  man, 

"  Go  down  to  the  door,  ready  for  the  coach.  Call  out 
when  it  comes.  I'd  rather  have  you  there.  Now  then,"  he 
added,  turning  hastily  to  Jonas,  when  the  man  was  gone. 
"  What's  the  matter  t  "  iv, 

Jonas  essayed  to  rise. 

"Stop  a  bit,"  said  Slyme.  "It's  not  so  easy  when  your 
wrists  are  tight  together.     Now  then  !     Up  !     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Put  your  hand  in  my  pocket.  Here  !  The  breast 
pocket,  on  the  left  !  "  said  Jonas.  i 

He  did  so  ;  and  drew  out  a  purse. 

"  There's  a  hundred  pound  in  it,"  said  Jonas,  whose  words 
were  almost  unintelligible ;  as  his  face,  in  its  pallor  and 
agony,  was  scarcely  human. 

Slyme  looked  at  him  ;  ga\'e  it  into  his  hands  ;  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  I  can't.  I  daren't.  1  couldn't  if  I  dared.  Those  fel- 
lows below — " 

"  Escape's  impossible,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  know  it.  One 
hundred  pound  for  only  five  minutes  in  the  next  room  !  " 

"  What  to  do  !  "  he  asked. 

The  face  of  his  prisoner  as  he  advanced  to  whisper  in  his 
ear,  made  him  recoil  inxoluntarily.  But  he  stopped  and  lis- 
tened to  him.  The  words  were  few,  but  his  own  face  changed 
as  he  heard  them. 

"  I  have  it  about  me,"  said  Jonas,  putting  his  hands  to 
his  throat,  as  though  whate\er  he  referred  to,  were  hidden  in 
his  neck-kerchief.  "  How  should  you  know  of  it  ?  How 
could  you  know  ?  A  hundred  pound  for  only  five  minutes  in 
the  next  room  !     The  time's  passing.     Speak  !  " 

"  It  would  be  more — more  creditable  to  the  family,"  ob- 
served Slyme,  with  trembling  lips.  • "  I  wish  you  hadn't  told 
me  half  so  much.  Less  would  have  served  your  purpose. 
You  might  have  kept  it  to  yourself." 

"A  hundred  pounds  for  only  five  minutes  in  the  next 
room  !     Speak  !  "  cried  Jonas,  desperately. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  789 

He  took  the  purse.  Jonas,  with  a  wild  unsteady  step, 
retreated  to  the  door  in  the  glass  partition. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Slyme,  catching  at  his  skirts.  "  I  don't 
know  about  this.  Yet  it  must  end  so  at  last.  Are  you 
guilty  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Are  the  proofs  as  they  were  told  just  now  ? 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Will  you — will  you  engage  to  say  a — a  Prayer,  now,  or 
something  of  that  sort  1  "  faltered  Slyme. 

Jonas  broke  from  him  without  replying,  and  closed  the 
door  between  them. 

Slyme  listened  at  the  keyhole.  After  that,  he  crept  away 
on  tiptoe,  as  far  off  as  he  could  ;  and  looked  awfully  towards 
the  place.  He  was  roused  by  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  and 
their  letting  down  the  steps. 

"  He's  getting  a  few  things  together,"  he  said,  leaning  out 
of  window,  and  speaking  to  the  two  men  below,  who  stood  in 
the  full  light  of  a  street-lamp.  "  Keep  your  eye  upon  the 
back,  one  of  you,  for  form's  sake." 

One  of  the  men  withdrew  into  the  court.  The  other, 
seating  himself  on  the  steps  of  the  coach,  remained  in  conver- 
sation with  Slyme  at  the  window ;  who  perhaps  had  risen  to 
be  his  superior,  in  virtue  of  his  old  propensity  (one  so  much 
lauded  by  the  murdered  man)  of  being  always  round  the 
corner.     A  useful  habit  in  his  present  calling. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

Slyme  looked  into  the  room  for  an  instant  and  gave  his 
head  a  jerk,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Close  at  hand.     I  see  him." 

"  He's  booked,"  observed  the  man. 

"  Through,"  said  Slyme. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  and  up  and  down  the  street. 
The  man  on  the  coach-steps  took  his  hat  off,  and  put  it  on 
again   and  whistled  a  little. 

'*  I  say  !     He's  taking  his  time  !  "  he  remonstrated. 

"  I  allowed  him  five  minutes,"  said  Slyme.  "  Time's  more 
than  up,  though.     I'll  bring  him  down." 

He  withdrew  from  the  window  accordingly,  and  walked 
on  tiptoe  to  the  door  in  the  partition.  He  listened.  There 
was  not  a  sound  within.  He  set  the  candles  near  it,  that 
they  might  shine  through  the  glass. 

It  was  not  easy,  he  found,  to  make  up  his  mind  to  the 
opening  of  the  door.     But   he   tiung  it  wide  open  suddenly, 


y  fjo  ^^--^  ^^  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 

and  M'ith  a  noise  ;  then  retreated.  After  peeping  in  and  lis- 
tening again,  he  entered. 

He  started  back  as  his  eyes  met  those  of  Jonas,  standing 
in  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  staring  at  him.  His  neck-ker- 
chief was  off  ;  his  face  was  ashy  pale. 

"You're  too  soon,"  said  Jonas,  with  an  abject  whimper. 
"  I've  not  had  time.  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  it.  I — five 
minutes  more — two  minutes  more  ! — Only  one  !  " 

Slyme  gave  him  no  reply,  but  thrustmg  the  purse  upon  him 
and  forcing  it  back  into  his  pocket,  called  up  his  men. 

He  whined,  and  cried,  and  cursed,  and  entreated  them, 
and  struggled,  and  submitted,  in  the  same  breath,  and  had  no 
power  to  stand.  They  got  him  away  and  into  the  coach, 
where  they  put  him  on  a  seat ;  but  he  soon  fell  moaning  down 
among  the  straw  at  the  bottom,  and  lay  there. 

The  two  men  were  with  him  ;  Slyme  being  on  the  box 
with  the  driver  ;  and  they  let  him  lie.  Happening  to  pass  a 
fruiterer's  on  their  way,  the  door  of  which  was  open,  though 
the  shop  was'  by  this  time  shut,  one  of  them  remarked  how 
faint  the  peaches  smelt. 

The  other  assented  at  the  moment,  but  presently  stooped 
down  in  quick  alarm,  and  looked  at  the  prisoner. 

"  Stop  the  coach  !  He  has  poisoned  himself !  The  smell 
comes  from  this  bottle  in  his  hand  !  " 

The  hand  had  shut  upon  it  tight.  With  that  rigidity  of 
grasp  with  which  no  living  man,  in  the  full  strength  and 
energy  of  life,  can  clutch  a  prize  he  has  won. 

They  dragged  him  out,  into  the  dark  street ;  but  jury, 
judge,  and  hangman,  could  have  done  no  more,  and  could  do 
nothing  now.     Dead,  dead,  dead. 


CHAPTER  LH. 

IN    WHICH    THE    TABLES    ARE    TURNED     COMPLETELY    UPSIDE 

DOWN. 

Old  Martin's  cherished  projects,  so  long  hidden  in  his 
own  breast,  so  frequently  \i\  danger  of  abrupt  disclosure 
through  the  bursting  forth  of  the  indignation  he  had  hoarded 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT.  79 1 

up,  during  his  residence  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  were  retarded, 
but  not  beyond  a  few  hours,  by  tlie  occurrences  just  now 
related.  Stunned,  as  he  had  been  at  first  by  the  inteUigence 
conveyed  to  him  through  Tom  Pinch  and  John  Westlock,  of 
the  supposed  manner  of  his  brother's  death  ;  overwhelmed  as 
he  was  by  the  subsequent  narratives  of  Chuffey  and  Nadgett, 
and  the  forging  of  that  chain  of  circumstances  ending  in  the 
death  of  Jonas,  of  whicli  catastrophe  he  was  immediately  in- 
formed ;  scattered  as  his  purposes  and  hopes  were  for  the 
moment,  by  the  crowding  in  of  all  these  incidents  between 
hini  and  his  end  ;  still  their  very  intensity  and  the  tumult  of 
their  assemblage  nerved  him  to  the  rapid  and  unyielding 
execution  of  his  scheme.  In  every  single  circumstance, 
whether  it  were  cruel,  cowardly,  or  false,  he  saw  the  flowering 
of  the  same  pregnant  seed.  Self  ;  grasping,  eager,  narrow- 
ranging,  over-reaching  self  ;  with  its  long  train  of  suspicions, 
lusts,  deceits,  and  all  their  growing  consequences  ;  was  the 
root  of  the  vile  tree.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  so  presented  his 
character  before  the  old  man's  eyes,  that  he— -the  good,  the 
tolerant,  enduring  Pecksniff — had  become  the  incarnation  of- 
all  selfishness  and  treachery  ;  and  the  more  odious  the  shapes 
in  which  those  vices  ranged  themselves  before  him  now,  the 
sterner  consolation  he  had  in  his  design  of  setting  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff right,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff's  victims  too. 

To  this  work  he  brought,  not  only  the  energy  and  determi- 
nation natural  to  his  character  (which,  as  the  reader  may 
have  observed  in  the  beginning  of  his  or  her  acquaintance 
with  this  gentleman,  was  remarkable  for  the  strong  develop- 
ment of  those  qualities)  but  all  the  forced  and  unnaturally 
nurtured  energy  consequent  upon  their  long  suppression.  And 
these  two  tides  of  resolution  setting  into  one  and  sweeping  on, 
became  so  strong  and  vigorous,  that,  to  prevent  themselves 
from  being  carried  away  before  it.  Heaven  knows  where,  was 
as  much  as  John  Westlock  and  Mark  Tapley  together  (though 
they  were  tolerably  energetic  too)  could  manage  to  effect. 

He  had  sent  for  John  Westlock  immediately  on  his  arrival  ; 
and  John,  under  the  conduct  of  Tom  Pinch,  had  waited  on 
him.  Having  a  lively  recollection  of  Mr.  Tapley,  he  had 
caused  that  gentleman's  attendance  to  be  secured,  through 
John's  means,  without  delay  ;  and  thus,  as  we  have  seen,  they 
had  all  repaired,  together,  to  the  City.  But  his  grandson  he 
had  refused  to  see  until  to-morrow,  when  Mr.  Tapley  was  in- 
structed to  summon  him  to  the  Temple  at  ten  o'clock   in  the 


792  MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT. 

forenoon.  Tom  he  would  not  allow  to  be  employed  in  any- 
thing, lest  he  should  be  wrongfully  suspected  ;  but  he  was  a 
party  to  all  their  proceedings,  and  was  with  them  until  late  at 
night — until  after  they  knew  of  the  death  of  Jonas  ;  when  he 
went  home  to  tell  all  these  wonders  to  little  Ruth,  and  to  pre- 
pare her  for  accompanying  him  to  the  Temple  in  the  morning, 
agreeably  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  particular  injunction. 

It  was  characteristic  of  old  Martin,  and  his  looking  on  to 
something  which  he  had  distinctly  before  him,  that  he  com- 
municated to  them  nothing  of  his  intentions,  beyond  such  hints 
of  reprisal  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  they  gathered  from  the  game 
he  had  played  in  that  gentleman's  house,  and  the  brightening 
of  his  eyes  whenever  his  name  was  mentioned.  Even  to  John 
Westlock,  in  whom  he  was  evidently  disposed  to  place  great 
confidence  (which  may  indeed  be  said  of  every  one  of  them), 
he  gave  no  explanation  whatever.  He  merely  requested  him 
to  return  in  the  morning  ;  and  with  this  for  their  utmost  satis- 
faction, they  left  him,  when  the  night  was  far  advanced,  alone. 

The  events  of  such  a  day  might  ha\'e  worn  out  the  body 
.  and  spirit  of  a  much  younger  man  than  he,  but  he  sat  in  deep 
and  painful  meditation  until  the  morning  was  bright.  Nor 
did  he  even  then  seek  any  prolonged  repose,  but  merely  slum- 
bered in  his  chair,  until  seven  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Tapley  had 
appointed  to  come  to  him  by  his  desire  :  and  came — as  fresh 
and  clean  and  cheerful  as  the  morning  itself. 

"  You  are  punctual,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  opening  the 
door  to  him  in  reply  to  his  light  knock,  which  had  roused  him 
instantly. 

"  My  wishes,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tapley,  whose  mind  would 
appear  from  the  context  to  have  been  running  on  the  matri- 
monial service,  "  is  to  love,  honor,  and  obey.  The  clock's  a- 
striking  now,  sir." 

"Come  in  !  " 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,  rejoined  Mr.  Tapley,  "  what  could  I  do 
for  you  first,  sir.?  " 

"  You  gave  my  message  to  Martin  t  "  said  the  old  man, 
bending  his  eyes  upon  him. 

"  I  did,  sir,"  returned  Mark  ;  "  and  you  never  see  a  gentle- 
man more  surprised  in  all  your  born  days  than  he  was." 

"  What  more  did  you  tell  him  .?  "  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  inquired. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  smiling,  "  I  should  have 
liked  to  tell  him  a  deal  more,  but  not  being  able,  sir,  I  didn't 
tell  it  him." 


MARTIN-  CHUZZLEWIT. 


793 


You  told  him  all  you  knew?" 

"But  it  was  precious  little,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley. 
"There  was  very  little  respectin'  you  that  I  was  able  to  tell 
him,  sir.  I  only  mentioned  my  opinion  that  Mr.  Pecksniff 
would  find  himself  deceived,  sir,  and  that  you  would  find  your- 
self deceived,  and  that  he  would  find  himself  deceived,  sir." 

"  In  what .''  "  asked  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  Meaning  him,  sir  ?  " 

"  Meaning  both  him  and  me." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  In  your  own  opinions  of 
each  other.  As  to  him,  sir,  and  his  opinions,  I  know  he's  a 
altered  man.  I  know  it.  I  know'd  it  long  afore  he  spoke  to 
you  t'other  day,  and  I  must  say  it.  Nobody  don't  know  half 
as  much  of  him  as  I  do.  Nobody  can't.  There  was  always  a 
deal  of  good  in  him,  but  a  little  of  it  got  crusted  over,  some- 
how. I  can't  say  who  rolled  the  paste  of  that  'ere  crust  my- 
self, but " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Martin.     "  Why  do  you  stop  ?  " 

"  But  it — well  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  think  it  may 
have  been  you  sir.  Unintentional  I  think  it  may  have  been 
you.  I  don't  believe  that  neither  of  you  gave  the  other  quite 
a  fair  chance.  There  !  Now  I've  got  rid  on  it,"  said  Mr. 
Tapley  in  a  fit  of  desperation  :  "  I  can't  go  a  carryin' it  about 
in  my  own  mind,  bustin'  myself  with  it ;  yesterday  was  quite 
long  enough.  It's  out  now.  I  can't  help  it.  I'm  sorry  for  it, 
Don't  wisit  it  on  him,  sir,  that's  all." 

It  was  clear  that  Mark  expected  to  be  ordered  out  imme- 
diately, and  was  quite  prepared  to  go. 

"  So  you  think,"  said  Martin,  "  that  his  old  faults  are,  in 
some  degree,  of  my  creation,  do  you  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  'I'apley,  "  I'm  werry  sorry,  but 
I  can't  unsay  it.  It's  hardly  fair  of  you,  sir,  to  make  a  igno- 
rant man  conwict  himself  in  this  way,  but  I  do  think  so.  I 
am  as  respectful  disposed  to  you,  sir,  as  a  man  can  be  ;  but  I 
do  think  so." 

The  light  of  a  faint  smile  seemed  to  break  through  the  dull 
steadiness  of  Martin's  face,  as  he  looked  attentively  at  him, 
without  replying. 

"  Yet  you  are  an  ignorant  man,  you  say,"  he  observed  after 
a  long  pause. 

"  Wery  much  so,"  Mr.  Tapley  replied. 

"  And  I  a  learned,  well-instructed  man,  you  think  .■'  " 

"  Likewise  wery  much  so,"  Mr.  Tapley  answered. 


yfj4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  old  man,  with  his  chin  resting  on  his  hand,  paced  the 
room  twice  or  thrice  before  he  added  : 

"  You  have  left  him  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Come  straight  from  him  now,  sir." 

"  For  what :  does  he  suppose  ?  " 

"  He  don't  know  what  to  suppose,  sir,  no  more  than  my- 
self. I  told  him  jest  wot  passed  yesterday,  sir,  and  that  you 
had  said  to  me,  '  Can  you  be  here  by  seven  in  the  morning? ' 
and  that  you  had  said  to  him,  through  me,  '  Can  you  be  here 
by  ten  in  the  morning .-' '  and  that  I  had  said  '  Yes  '  to  both. 
That's  all,  sir." 

His  frankness  was  so  genuine  that  it  plainly  was  all. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Martin,  "  he  may  think  you  are  going  to 
desert  him,  and  to  serve  me  }  " 

"  I  have  served  him  in  that  sort  of  way,  sir,"  replied  Mark, 
without  the  loss  of  any  atom  of  his  self-possession  ;  "  and  we 
have  been  that  sort  of  companions  in  misfortune,  that  my 
opinion  is,  he  don't  believe  a  word  on  it.  No  more  than  you 
do,  sir." 

"  Will  you  help  me  to  dress  ?  and  get  me  some  breakfast 
from  the  hotel  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  With  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"And  by  and  by,"  pursued  Martin,  "remaining  in  the 
room,  as  I  wish  you  to  do,  will  you  attend  to  the  door  yortder 
— give  admission  to  visitors,  I  mean,  when  they  knock  .-'  " 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  You  will  not  find  it  necessary  to  express  surprise  at  their 
appearance,"  Martin  suggested. 

"Oh  dear  no,  sir!  "  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "not  at  all." 

Although  he  pledged  himself  to  this  with  perfect  confi- 
dence, he  was  in  a  state  of  unbounded  astonishment  even 
now.  Martin  appeared  to  observe  it,  and  to  have  some  sense 
of  the  ludicrous  bearing  of  Mr.  Tapley  under  these  perplexing 
circumstances;  for  in  spite  of  the  composure  of  his  voice  and 
the  gravity  of  his  face,  the  same  indistinct  light  flickered  on 
the  latter  several  times.  Mark  bestirred  himself,  however,  to 
execute  the  offices  with  which  he  was  entrusted ;  and  soon 
lost  all  tendency  to  any  outward  expression  of  his  surprise,  in 
the  occupation  of  being  brisk  and  busy. 

But  when  he  had  put  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  clothes  in  good 
order  for  dressing,  and  when  that  gentleman  was  dressed  and 
sitting  at  his  breakfast,  Mr.  Tapley's  feelings  of  wonder  began 
to  return  upon  him  with  great  violence  ;  and,  standing  beside 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  795 

the  old  man  with  a  napkin  nnder  his  arm  (it  was  as  natural 
and  easy  a  joke  to  Mark  to  be  a  butler  in  the  Temple,  as  it 
had  been  to  volunteer  as  cook  on  board  tlie  Screw),  he  found 
it  difficult  to  resist  the  temptation  of  casting  sidelong  glances 
at  him  very  often.  Nay,  he  found  it  impossible  ;  and  accord- 
ingly yielded  to  this  impulse  so  often,  that  Martin  caught  him 
in  the  fact  some  fifty  times.  The  extraordinary  things  Mr. 
Tapley  did  with  his  own  face  when  any  of  these  detections 
occurred  ;  the  sudden  occasions  he  had  to  rub  his  eyes  or  his 
nose  or  his  chin  ;  the  look  of  wisdom  with  which  he  immedi- 
ately plunged  into  the  deepest  thought,  or  became  intensely 
interested  in  the  habits  and  customs  of  the  flies  upon  the 
ceiling,  or  the  sparrows  out  of  doors  ;  or  the  overwhelming 
politeness  with  which  he  endeavored  to  hide  his  confusion  by 
handing  the  muffins ;  may  not  unreasonably  be  assumed  to 
have  exercised  the  utmost  power  of  feature  that  even  Martin 
Chuzzlewit  the  elder  possessed. 

But  he  sat  perfectly  quiet  and  took  his  breakfast  at  his  leis- 
ure, or  made  a  show  of  doing  so,  for  he  scarcely  ate  or  drank, 
and  frequently  lapsed  into  long  intervals  of  musing.  When  he 
had  finished,  Mark  sat  down  to  his  breakfast  at  the  same 
table  ;  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  quite  silent  still,  walked  up  and 
down  the  room. 

Mark  cleared  away  in  due  course,  and  set  a  chair  out  for 
him,  in  which,  as  the  time  drew  on  towards  ten  o'clock,  he 
took  his  seat,  leaning  his  hands  upon  his  stick,  and  clench- 
ing them  upon  the  handle,  and  resting  his  chin  on  them  again. 
All  his  impatience  and  abstraction  of  manner  had  vanished 
now  ;  and  as  he  sat  there,  looking,  with  his  keen  eyes,  steadily 
towards  the  door,  Mark  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  firm, 
square,  powerful  face  it  was  ;  or  exulting  in  the  thought  that 
Mr.  PecksniiT,  after  playing  a  pretty  long  game  of  bowls  with 
its  owner,  seemed  to  be  at  last  in  a  very  fair  way  of  coming 
in  for  a  rubber  or  two. 

Mark's  uncertainty  in  respect  of  what  was  going  to  be 
done  or  said,  and  by  whom  to  whom,  would  have  excited  him 
in  itself.  But  knowing  for  a  certainty  besides,  that  young 
Martin  was  coming,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  must  arrive,  he 
found  it  by  no  means  easy  to  remain  quiet  and  silent.  But, 
excepting  that  he  occasionally  coughed  in  a  hollow  and  un- 
natural manner  to  relieve  himself,  he  behaved  with  great  de- 
corum through  the  longest  ten  minutes  he  had  ever  known. 

A  knock  at  the  door.     Mr.  Westlock.     Mr.  Tapley,  in  ad- 


796  MA  R  ThV  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

initting  him,  raised  his  eyebrows  to  the  highest  possible  pitch, 
implying  thereby  that  he  considered  himself  in  an  unsatisfac- 
tory position.     Mr.  Chuzzlewit  received  him  very  courteously. 

Mark  waited  at  the  door  for  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister, 
who  were  coming  up  the  stairs.  The  old  man  went  to  meet 
them  ;  took  their  hands  in  his  ;  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 
As  this  looked  promising,  Mr.  Tapley  smiled  benignantly. 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  resumed  his  chair,  before  young  Mar- 
tin, who  was  close  behind  them,  entered.  The  old  man, 
scarcely  looking  at  him,  pointed  to  a  distant  seat.  I'his  was 
less  encouraging  ;  and  Mr.  Tapley's  spirits  fell  again. 

He  was  quickly  summoned  to  the  door  by  another  knock. 
He  did  not  start,  or  cr)%  or  tumble  down,  at  sight  of  Miss 
Graham  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  but  he  drew  a  very  long  breath,  and 
came  back  perfectly  resigned,  looking  on  them  and  on  the  rest 
with  an  expression  which  seemed  to  say,  that  nothing  could 
surprise  him  any  more  ;  and  that  he  was  rather  glad  to  have 
done  with  that  sensation  for  ever. 

The  old  man  received  Mary  no  less  tenderly  than  he  had 
received  Tom  Pinch's  sister.  A  look  of  friendly  recognition 
passed  between  himself  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  which  implied  the 
existence  of  a  perfect  understanding  between  them.  It  en- 
gendered no  astonishment  in  Mr.  Tapley  ;  for,  as  he  after- 
wards observed,  he  had  retired  from  the  business,  and  sold 
ofT  the  stock. 

Not  the  least  curious' feature  in  this  assemblage  was,  that 
everybody  present  was  so  much  surprised  and  embarrassed 
by  the  sight  of  everybody  else,  that  nobody  ventured  to  speak. 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  alone  broke  silence. 

"  Set  the  door  open,  Mark  !  "  he  said  ;  "  and  come  here." 
Mark  obeyed. 

The  last  appointed  footstep  sounded  now  upon  the  stairs. 
They  all  knew  it.  It  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's  ;  and  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff was  in  a  hurry  too,  for  he  came  bounding  up  with  such 
uncommon  expedition  that  he  stumbled  twice  or  thrice. 

"  Where  is  my  venerable  friend  1 "  he  cried  upon  the  up- 
per landing ;  and  then  with  open  arms  came  darting  in. 

Old  Martin  merely  looked  at  him  ;  but  Mr.  Pecksniff 
started  back  as  if  he  had  received  the  charge  of  an  electric 
batterv. 

"  My  venerable  friend  is  well }  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Quite  well." 

It  seemed  to  reassure  the   anxious  inquirer.     He   clasped 


MA  R  TIN  CIIUZZL  E  WIT. 


797 


his  hands,  and,  looking  upwards  with  a  pious  joy,  silently 
expressed  his  gratitude.  He  then  looked  round  on  the  as- 
sembled group,  and  shook  his  head  reproachfully.  For  such 
a  man  severely,  quite  severely. 

"  Oh,  vermin  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Oh,  bloodsuckers  ! 
Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  embittered  the  existence  of  an 
individual,  wholly  unparalleled  ni  the  biographical  records  of 
amiable  persons ;  but  must  you  now,  even  now,  when  he  has 
made  his  election,  and  reposed  his  trust  in  a  Numble,  but  at 
least  sincere  and  disinterested  relative  ;  must  you  now,  ver- 
min and  swarmers  (I  regret  to  make  use  of  the  strong  ex- 
pressions, my  dear  sir,  but  there  are  times  when  honest  indig- 
nation will  not  be  controlled),  must  you  now,  vermin  and 
swarmers  (for  I  will  repeat  it),  taking  advantage  of  his  un- 
protected state,  assemble  round  him  from  all  quarters,  as 
wolves  and  vultures,  and  other  animals  of  the  feathered  tribe 
assemble  round — I  will  not  say  round  carrion  or  a  carcass,  for 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  is  quite  the  contrary — but  round  their  prey — 
their  prey — to  rifle  and  despoil  \  gorging  their  voracious 
maws,  and  staining  their  offensive  beaks,  with  every  descrip- 
tion of  carnivorous  enjoyment !  " 

As  he  stopped  to  fetch  his  breath,  he  waved  them  off,  in  a 
solemn  manner,  with  his  hand. 

"  Horde  of  unnatural  plunderers  and  robbers  !  "  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  leave  him  !  leave  him,  I  say  !  Begone  !  Abscond ! 
You  had  better  be  off  !  Wander  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
young  sirs,  like  vagabonds  as  you  are,  and  do  not  presume  to 
remain  in  a  spot  which  is  hallowed  by  the  gray  hairs  of  the 
patriarchal  gentleman  to  whose  tottering  limbs  1  have  the 
honor  to  act  as  an  unworthy,  but  I  hope  an  unassuming,  prop 
and  staff.  And  you,  my  tender  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff",  ad- 
dressing himself  in  a  tone  of  gentle  remonstrance  to  the  old 
man,  "  how  could  you  ever  leave  me,  though  even  for  this  short 
period!  You  have  absented  yourself,  I  do  not  doubt,  upon 
some  act  of  kindness  to  me  ;  bless  you  for  it  :  but  you  must 
not  do  it ;  you  must  not  be  so  venturesome.  I  should  really 
be  angry  with  you  if  I  could,  my  friend  !  " 

He  advanced  with  outstretched  arms  to  take  the  old  man's 
hand.  But  he  had  not  seen  how  the  hand  clasped  and 
clutched  the  stick  within  its  grasp.  As  he  came  smiling  on, 
and  got  within  his  reach,  old  Martin,  with  his  burning  indig- 
nation crowded  into  one  vehement  burst,  and  flasliing  out  of 
every  line  and  wrinkle  in  his  face,  rose  up,  and  struck  him 
down  upon  the  ground. 


798  MARTTJV  CHUZZLEWIT. 

With  such  a  well-directed  nervous  blow,  that  down  he 
went  as  heavily  and  true  as  if  the  charge  of  a  Life-Guardsman 
had  tumbled  him  out  of  a  saddle.  And  whether  he  was 
stunned  by  the  shock,  or  only  confused  by  the  wonder  and 
novelty  of  this  warm  reception,  he  did  not  offer  to  get  up 
again  ;  but  lay  there,  looking  about  him,  with  a  disconcerted 
meekness  in  his  face  so  enormously  ridiculous,  that  neither 
Mark  Tapley  nor  John  Westlock  could  repress  a  smile,  though 
both  were  actively  interposing  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the 
blow ;  which  the  old  man's  gleaming  eyes  and  vigorous 
attitude  seemed  to  render  one  of  the  most  probable  events  in 
the  world. 

"Drag  him  away!  Take  him  out  of  my  reach  !"  said 
Martin  ;  "or  I  can't  help  it.  The  strong  restraint  I  have  put 
upon  my  hands  has  been  enough  to  palsy  them.  I  am  not 
master  of  myself,  while  he  is  within  their  range,  Dra";  him 
away ! ' 

Seeing  that  he  still  did  not  rise,  Mr.  Tapley,  without  any 
compromise  about  it,  actually  did  drag  him  away,  and  stick 
him  up  on  the  lioor,  with  his  back  against  the  opposite  wall. 

"  Hear  me,  rascal !  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  I  have  sum- 
moned you  here  to  witness  your  own  work.  I  have  summoned 
you  here  to  witness  it,  because  I  know  it  will  be  gall  and 
wormwood  to  you  !  I  have  summoned  you  here  to  witness  it, 
because  I  know  the  sight  of  everybody  here  must  be  a  dagger 
in  your  mean  false  heart !  What  !  do  you  know  me  as  f  am, 
at  last !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  cause  to  stare  at  him,  for  the  triumph 
in  his  face  and  speech  and  figure  was  a  sight  to  stare  at. 

''  Look  there  !  "  said  the  old  man,  pointing  at  him,  and 
appealing  to  the  rest.  "  Look  there  !  And  then — come  hither, 
my  dear  Martin — look  here  !  here  !  here  !  "  At  every  repeti- 
tion of  the  word  he  pressed  his  grandson  closer  to  his  breast. 
■  _  "  The  passion  I  felt,  Martin,  when  1  dared' not  do  this,"  he 
said,  "was  in  the  blow  I  struck  just  now.  Why  did  we  ever 
part !  How  could  we  ever  part !  How  could  you  ever  fly 
from  me  to  him  !  " 

Martin  was  about  to  answer,  but  he  stopped  him,  and 
went  on. 

"  The  fault  was  mine  no  less  than  yours.  Mark  has  told 
me  so  to-day,  and  I  have  known  it  long ;  though  not  so  long 
as  I  might  have  done.     Mary,  my  love,  come  here." 

And  she  trembled  and   was  veiy  pale,  he  sat  her  in  his 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEIVIT.  799 

own  chair,  and  stood  beside  it  with  her  hand  in  his  ;  and 
Martin  standing  by  him. 

"The  curse  of  our  house,"  said  the  old  man,  looking 
kindly  down  upon  her,  "  has  been  the  love  of  self ;  has  ever 
been  the  love  of  self.  How  often  have  I  said  so,  when  I 
never  knew  that  I  had  wrought  it  upon  others  !  " 

He  drew  one  hand  through  Martin's  arm,  and  standing  so, 
between  them,  proceeded  thus  : 

"  You  all  know  how  I  bred  this  orphan  up,  to  tend  me. 
None  of  you  can  know  by  what  degrees  I  have  come  to  regard 
her  as  a  daughter ;  for  she  has  won  upon  me,  by  her  self- 
forgetfulness,  her  tenderness,  her  patience,  all  the  goodness 
of  her  nature,  when  Heaven  is  her  witness  that  I  took  but 
little  pains  to  draw  it  forth.  It  blossomed  without  cultivation, 
and  it  ripened  without  heat.  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
say  that  I  am  sorry  for  it  now,  or  yonder  fellow  might  be 
holding  up  his  head." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  put  his  hand  into  his  waistcoat,  and  slightly 
shook  that  part  of  him  to  which  allusion  had  been  made  ;  as 
if  to  signify  that  it  was  still  uppermost. 

"There  is  a  kind  of  selfishness,"  said  Martin:  "I  have 
learned  it  in  my  own  experience  of  my  own  breast:  which  is 
constantly  upon  the  watch  for  selfishness  in  others  ;  and 
holding  others  at  a  distance  by  suspicions  and  distrusts, 
wonders  why  they  don't  approach,  and  don't  confide,  and 
calls  that  selfishness  in  them.  Thus  I  once  doubted  those 
about  me — not  without  reason  in  the  beginning — and  thus  1 
once  doubted  you,  Martin." 

"  Not  without  reason,"  Martin  answered  ;  "  either." 
"  Listen,  hypocrite !  Listen,  smooth-tongued,  servile, 
crawling  knave !  "  said  Martin.  "  Listen,  you  shallow  dog. 
What !  When  I  was  seeking  him,  you  had  already  spread 
your  nets  ;  you  were  already  fishing  for  him,  were  ye  ?  When 
I  lay  ill  in  this  good  woman's  house,  and  your  meek  spirit 
pleaded  for  my  grandson,  you  had  already  caught  him,  had 
ye  .''  Counting  on  the  restoration  of  the  love  you  knew  I  bore 
him,  you  designed  him  for  one  of  your  two  daughters,  did  \e  ? 
Or  failing  that,  you  traded  in  him  as  a  speculation  which  at 
any  rate  should  blind  me  with  the  lustre  of  your  charity,  and 
found  a  claim  upon  me  !  Why,  even  then  I  knew  you,  and  I 
told  you  so.     Did  I  tell  you  that  I  knew  you,  even  then  ? " 

"I  am  not  angry,  sir,"  said  Mr.  I'ocksniff,  softy.  "  I  can 
bear  a  great  deal  from  you.  1  will  never  contradict  you,  Mr. 
Chuzzlcwit." 


8 oo  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

"  Observe  !  "  said  Martin,  looking  round.  "  I  put  myself 
in  that  man's  hands  on  terms  as  mean  and  base,  and  as  de- 
grading to  himself  as  1  could  render  them  in  words.  I  stated 
them  at  length  to  him,  before  his  own  children,  syllable  by 
syllable,  as  coarsely  as  I  could,  and  with  as  much  offence, 
and  with  as  plain  an  exposition  of  my  contempt,  as  words — 
not  looks  and  manner  merely — could  convey.  If  I  had  only 
called  the  angry  blood  into  his  face,  I  would  have  wavered  in 
my  purpose.  If  I  had  only  stung  him  into  being  a  man  for  a 
minute  I  would  have  abandoned  it.  If  he  had  offered  me 
c  ne  word  of  remonstrance,  in  favor  of  the  grandson  whom  he 
supposed  I  had  disinherited  ;  if  he  had  pleaded  with  me, 
though  never  so  faintly,  against  my  appeal  to  him  to  abandon 
him  to  misery  and  cast  him  from  his  house  ;  I  think  I  could 
have  borne  with  him  for  ever  afterwards.  But  not  a  word, 
not  a  word.  Pandering  to  the  worst  of  human  passions  was 
the  office  of  his  nature  ;  and  faithfully  he  did  his  work  !  " 

"  I  am  not  angry,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "I  am  hurt, 
Mr,  Chuzzlewit  :  wounded  in  my  feelings  :  but  I  am  not 
angry,  my  good  sir." 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  resumed. 

"Once  resolved  to  try  him,  I  was  resolute  to  pursue  the 
trial  to  the  end  ;  but  while  I  was  bent  on  fathoming  the  depth 
of  his  duplicity,  I  made  a  sacred  compact  with  myself  tliat  I 
would  give  him  credit  on  the  other  side  for  any  latent  spark 
of  goodness,  honor,  forbearance — any  virtue — that  might 
glimmer  in  him.  From  first  to  last,  there  has  been  no  such 
thing.  Not  once.  He  cannot  say  I  have  not  given  him 
opportunity.  He  cannot  say  I  have  ever  led  him  on.  He 
cannot  say  I  have  not  left  him  freely  to  himself  in  all  things  ; 
or  that  I  have  not  been  a  passive  instrument  in  his  hands, 
which  he  might  have  used  for  good  as  easily  as  evil.  Or  if 
he  can,  he  lies  !     And  that's  his  nature  too." 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  interrupted  Pecksniff,  shedding  tears. 
"  I  am  not  angry,  sir.  I  cannot  be  angry  with  you.  But  did 
you  never,  my  dear  sir,  express  a  desire  that  the  unnatural 
young  man  who  by  his  wicked  arts  has  estranged  your  good 
opinion  from  me,  for  the  time  being:  only  for  the  time  being: 
that  your  grandson,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  should  be  dismissed  my 
house  ?     Recollect  yourself,  my  Christian  friend." 

"  I  have  said  so,  have  I  not  ?  "  retorted  the  old  man, 
sternly.  '*  I  could  not  tell  how  far  your  specious  hypocrisy 
had  deceived  him,  knave  ;  and  knew  no  better  way  of  opening 


MAI? TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  80 1 

his  eyes  than  by  presenting  you  before  him  in  your  own  ser- 
vile cliaracter.  Yes.  I  did  express  that  desire.  And  you 
leaped  to  meet  it ;  and  you  met  it  ;  and  turning  in  an  instant 
on  the  hand  you  had  licked  and  beslavered,  as  only  such 
hounds  can,  you  strengthened,  and  confirmed,  and  justified  me 
in  my  scheme." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  a  bow :  a  submissive,  not  to  say,  a 
grovelling  and  an  abject  bow.  If  he  had  been  complimented 
on  his  practice  of  the  loftiest  virtues,  he  never  could  have 
bowed  as  he  bowed  then. 

"  The  wretched  man  who  has  been  murdered,"  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  went  on  to  say  :  "  then  passing  by  the  name  of " 

"  Tigg,"  suggested  Mark. 

"  Of  Tigg — brought  begging  messages  to  me,  on  behalf  of 
a  friend  of  his,  and  an  unworthy  relative  of  mine  ;  and  finding 
him  a  man  well  enough  suited  to  my  purpose,  I  employed  him 
to  glean  some  news  of  you,  Martin,  for  me.  It  was  from  him 
I  learned  that  you  had  taken  up  your  abode  wdth  yonder  fellow. 
It  was  he,  who  meeting  you  here,  in  town,  one  evening— you 
remember  where  ? " 

"  At  the  pawnbroker's  shop,"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes  ;  watched  you  to  your  lodging,  and  enabled  me  to 
send  you  a  Bank  note." 

"  I  little  thought,"  said  Martin,  greatly  moved,  "  that  it 
had  come  from  you.  I  little  thought  that  you  were  interested 
in  my  fate.     If  I  had " 

"  If  you  had,"  returned  the  old  man,  sorrowfully,  "  you 
would  have  shown  less  knowledge  of  me  as  I  seemed  to  be, 
and  as  I  really  was.  I  hoped  to  bring  you  back,  Martin, 
penitent  and  humbled.  I  hoped  to  distress  you  into  coming 
back  to  me.  Much  as  I  loved  vou,  I  had  that  to  acknowledge 
which  I  could  not  reconcile  it  to  myself  to  avow,  then,  unless 
you  made  submission  to  me,  first.  Thus  it  was  I  lost  you. 
If  I  have  had,  indirectly,  any  act  or  part  in  the  fate  of  that 
unhappy  man,  by  putting  means,  however  small,  within  his 
reach  ;  Heaven  forgive  me  1  I  might  have  known,  perhaps, 
that  he  would  misuse  money ;  that  it  was  ill-bestowed  upon 
him  ;  and  that  sown  by  his  hands,  it  could  engender  miscliief 
only.  But  I  never  thought  of  him  at  that  time,  as  having  the 
disposition  or  ability  to  be  a  serious  impostor,  or  otherwise 
than  as  a  thoughtless,  idle-humored,  dissipated  spendthrift, 
sinning  more  against  himself  than  others,  and  frequenting  low 
haunts  and  indulging  vicious  tastes,  to  his  own  ruin  only," 

51 


8o2  MARTIN  CITUZZLEWIT. 

Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  who  had 
Mrs.  Lupin  on  his  arm  by  this  time,  quite  agreeably  :  "'  if  I 
may  make  so  bold  as  say  so,  my  opinion  is,  as  you  was  quite 
correct,  and  that  he  turned  out  perfectly  nat'ral  for  all  that. 
There's  a  surprisin'  number  of  men,  sir,  who  as  long  as  they've 
only  got  their  own  shoes  and  stockings  to  depend  upon,  will 
walk  down-hill,  along  the  gutters  quiet  enough,  and  by  them- 
selves, and  not  do  much  harm.  But  set  any  on  'em  up  with 
a  coach  and  horses,  sir  ;  and  it's  wonderful  what  a  knowledge 
of  drivin'  he'll  show,  and  how  he'll  fill  his  wehicle  with  pas- 
sengers, and  start  off  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  neck  or 
nothing,  to  the  Devil  !  Bless  your  heart,  sir,  there's  ever  so 
many  Tiggs  a  passing  this  here  Temple-gate  any  hour  in  the 
day,  that  only  want  a  chance,  to  turn  out  full-blown  Monta- 
gues every  one ! " 

"  Your  ignorance,  as  you  call  it,  Mark,"  said  Mr.  Chuz- 
lewit,  "  is  wiser  than  some  men's  enlightenment,  and  mine 
among  them.  You  are  right ;  not  for  the  first  time  to-day. 
Now  hear  me  out,  my  dears.  And  hear  me,  you,  who,  if  what 
I  have  been  told  be  accurately  stated,  are  Bankrupt  in  pocket 
no  less  than  in  good  name  !  And  when  you  have  heard  me, 
leave  this  place,  and  poison  my  sight  no  more  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff"  laid   his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and  bowed 


agam 


"  The  penance  I  have  done  in  this  house,"  said  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit,  "  has  carried  this  reflection  with  it  constantly,  above 
all  others.  That  if  it  had  pleased  Heaven  to  visit  such  in- 
firmity on  my  old  age  as  really  had  reduced  me  to  the  state  in 
which  I  feigned  to  be,  I  should  have  brought  its  misery  upon 
myself.  Oh  you  whose  wealth,  like  mine,  has  been  a  source 
of  continual  unhappiness,  leading  you  to  distrust  the  nearest 
and  dearest,  and  to  dig  yourself  a  living  grave  of  suspicion  and 
reserve ;  take  heed  that,  having  cast  off  all  whom  you  might 
have  bound  to  you,  and  tenderly,  you  do  not  become  in  your 
decay  the  instrument  of  such  a  man  as  this,  and  waken  in  an- 
other world  to  the  knowledge  of  such  wrong,  as  would  embit- 
ter Heaven  itself,  if  wrong  or  you  could  ever  reach  it !  " 

And  then  he  told  them,  how  he  had  sometimes  thought,  in 
the  beginning,  that  love  might  grow  up  between  Mary  and 
Martin  ;  andhow  he  had  pleased  his  fancy  with  the  picture 
of-  observing  it  when  it  was  new,  and  taking  them  to  task, 
apart,  in  counterfeited  doubt,  and  then  confessing  to  them  that 
it  had  been  an  object  dear  to  his  heart ;  and  by  his  sympathy 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  803 

with  them,  and  generous  provision  for  their  young  fortunes, 
establishing  a  claim  on  their  affection  and  regard  which  nothing 
should  wither,  and  which  should  surround  his  old  age  with 
means  of  happiness.  How  in  the  first  dawn  of  this  design, 
and  when  the  pleasure  of  such  a  scheme  for  the  happiness  of 
others  was  new  and  indistinct  within  him,  Martin  had  come  to 
tell  him  that  he  had  already  chosen  for  himself  ;  knowing  that 
he,  the  old  man,  had  some  faint  project  on  that  head,  but 
io-norant  whom  it  concerned.  How  it  was  little  comfort  to 
him  to  know  that  Martin  had  chosen  Her,  because  the  grace 
of  his  design  was  lost,  and  because  finding  that  she  had  re- 
turned his  love,  he  tortured  himself  with  the  reflection  that 
they,  so  young,  to  whom  he  had  been  so  kind  a  benefactor, 
were  already  like  the  world,  and  bent  on  their  own  selfish, 
stealthy  ends.  How  in  the  bitterness  of  this  impression,  and 
of  his  past  experience,  he  had  reproached  Martin  so  harshly 
(forgetting  that  he  had  never  invited  his  confidence  on  such  a 
point,  and  confounding  what  he  had  meant  to  do  with  what  he 
had  done),  that  high  words  sprung  up  between  them,  and  they 
separated  in  wrath.  How  he  loved  him  still,  and  hoped  he 
would  return.  How  on  the  night  of  his  illness  at  the  Dragon 
he  had  secretly  written  tenderly  of  him,  and  made  him  his 
heir,  and  sanctioned  his  marriage  with  Mary  ;  and  how,  after 
his  interview  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  he  had  distrusted  liim  again, 
and  burnt  the  paper  to  ashes,  and  had  lain  down  in  his  bed 
distracted  by  suspicions,  doubts,  and  regrets. 

And  then  he  told  them  how,  resohed  to  probe  this  Peck- 
sniff, and  to  prove  the  constancy  and  truth  of  Mar}'  (to  himself 
no  less  than  Martin),  he  had  conceived  and  entered  on  his 
plan  ;  and  how,  beneath  her  gentleness  and  patience,  he  had 
softened  more  and  more  ;  still  more  and  more  beneath  the 
goodness  and  simplicity,  the  honor  and  the  manly  faith  of  Tom. 
And  when  he  spoke  of  Tom,  he  said  God  bless  him  ;  and  the 
tears  were  in  his  eyes  :  for  he  said  that  Tom,  mistrusted  and 
disliked  by  him  at  first,  had  come  like  summer  rain  upon  his 
heart ;  and  had  disposed  it  to  believe  in  better  things.  And 
Martin  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  Mary  too,  and  John,  his 
old  friend,  stoutly  too :  and  Mark,  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  his 
sister,  little  Ruth.  And  peace  of  mind,  deep,  tranquil  peace 
of  mind  was  on  Tom  Pinch. 

The  old  man  then  related  how  nobly  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
performed  the  duty  in  which  he  stood  indebted  to  society,  in 
the  matter  of  Tom's  dismissal  ;  and  how,  having  often  heard 


8o4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWn. 

disparagement  of  Mr.  Westlock  from  Pecksniffian  lips,  and 
knowing  him  to  be  a  friend  to  Tom,  he  had  used,  through  his 
confidential  agent  and  solicitor,  that  little  artifice  which  had 
kept  him  in  readiness  to  receive  his  unknown  friend  in  Lon- 
don. And  he  called  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  (by  the  name  of 
Scoundrel)  to  remember  that  there  again  he  had  not  trapped 
him  to  do  evil,  but  that  he  had  done  it  of  his  own  free  will 
and  agency  ;  nay,  that  he  had  cautioned  him  against  it.  And 
once  again  he  called  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  by  the  name  of  Hang- 
dog) to  remember  that  when  Martin  coming  home  at  last,  an 
altered  man,  had  sued  for  the  forgiveness  which  awaited  him, 
he,  Pecksniff,  had  rejected  him  in  language  of  his  own,  and 
had  remorselessly  stepped  in  between  him  and  the  least  touch 
of  natural  tenderness.  "  For  which,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if 
the  bending  of  my  finger  would  remove  a  halter  from  your 
neck,  I  wouldn't  bend  it  !  " 

"Martin,"  he  added,  "your  rival  has  not  been  a  danger- 
ous one,  but  Mrs.  Lupin  here,  has  played  duenna  for  some 
weeks  ;  not  so  much  to  watch  your  love  as  to  watch  her  lover. 
For  that  Ghoule " — his  fertility  in  finding  names  for  Mr. 
Pecksniff  was  astonishing — "  would  have  crawled  into  her 
daily  walks  otherwise,  and  polluted  the  fresh  air.  What's 
this  ?  Her  hand  is  trembling  strangely.  See  if  you  can  hold 
it." 

Hold  it !  If  he  clasped  it  half  as  tightly  as  he  did  her 
waist Well,  well  ! 

But  it  was  good  in  him  that  even  then,  in  his  high  fortune 
and  happiness,  with  her  lips  nearly  printed  on  his  own,  and 
her  proud  young  beauty  in  his  close  embrace,  he  had  a  hand 
still  left  to  stretch  out  to  Tom  Pinch. 

"  Oh,  Tom !  Dear  Tom  !  I  saw  you,  accidentally  coming, 
here.     Forgive  me  !  " 

"  Forgive  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  FU  never  forgive  you  as  long 
as  I  live,  Martin,  if  you  say  another  syllable  about  it.  Joy  to 
you  both  !    Joy,  my  dear  fellow,  fifty  thousand  times." 

Joy  !  There  is  not  a  blessing  on  earth  that  Tom  did  not 
wish  them.  There  is  not  a  blessing  on  earth  that  Tom  would 
not  have  bestowed  upon  them,  if  he  could. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  stepping  for- 
ward, "  but  you  was  mentionin',  just  now,  a  lady  of  the  name 
of  Lupin,  sir." 

"  I  was,"  returned  old  Martin. 

"Yes,  sir.     It's  a  pretty  name,  sir?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


805 


"  A  very  good  name,"  said  Martin. 

"  It  seems  a'most  a  pity  to  change  such  a  name  into  Tap- 
ley.     Don't  it,  sir  t  "  said  Mark. 

"  Tliat  depends  upon  the  lady.     What  is  her  opinion  ?  " 

"Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  retiring,  with  a  bow,  towards 
the  buxom  hostess,  "  her  opinion  is  as  the  name  ain't  a  change 
for  the  better,  but  the  indiwidual  may  be,  and  therefore,  if 
nobody  ain't  acquainted  with  no  jest  cause  of  impediment,  et 
cetrer,  the  Blue  Dragon,  will  be  con-werted  into  the  Jolly 
Tapley.  A  sign  of  my  own  inwention,  sir.  Wery  new,  con- 
wivial,  and  expressive  !  " 

The  wjiole  of  these  proceedings  were  so  agreeable  to  Mr, 
Pecksniff,  that  he  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor 
and  his  hands  clasping  one  another  alternately,  as  if  a  host  of 
penal  sentences  were  being  passed  upon  him.  Not  only  did 
his  figure  appear  to  have  shrunk,  but  his  discomfiture  seemed 
to  have  extended  itself,  even  to  his  dress.  His  clothes  seemed 
to  have  grown  shabbier,  his  linen  to  have  turned  yellow,  his 
hair  to  have  become  lank  and  frowsy  ;  his  very  boots  looked 
villanous  and  dim,  as  if  their  gloss  had  departed  with  his  own. 

Feeling,  rather  than  seeing,  that  the  old  man  now  point- 
ed to  the  door,  he  raised  his  eyes,  picked  up  his  hat,  and  thus 
addressed  him  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  sir !  you  have  partaken  of  my  hospi- 
tality." 

"  And  paid  for  it,"  he  observed. 

"  Thank  you.  That  savors,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking 
out  his  pocket  handkerchief,  "  of  your  old  familiar  frankness. 
You  have  paid  for  it.  I  was  about  to  make  the  remark.  You 
have  deceived  me,  sir.  Thank  you  again.  I  am  glad  of  it. 
To  see  you  in  the  possession  of  your  health  and  faculties  on 
any  terms,  is,  in  itself,  a  sufficient  recompense.  To  have 
been  deceived,  implies  a  trusting  nature.  Mine  is  a  trusting 
nature.  I  am  thankful  for  it.  I  would  rather  have  a  trusting 
nature,  do  you  know,  sir,  than  a  doubting  one  !  " 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  sad  smile,  bowed,  and  wiped 
his  eyes. 

"There  is  hardly  any  person  present,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit," 
said  Pecksniff,  "  by  whom  I  have  not  been  deceived.  I  have 
forgiven  those  persons  on  the  spot.  That  was  my  duty  ;  and, 
of  course,  I  have  done  it.  Whether  it  was  worthy  of  you  to 
partake  of  my  hospitality,  and  to  act  the  part  you  did  act  in 
my  house,  that,  sir,  is  a  question  which  I   leave  to  your  own 


8b6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


conscience.  And  your  conscience  does  not  acquit  you.  No, 
sir,  no  !  " 

Pronouncing  these  last  words  in  a  loud  and  solemn  voice, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  was  not  so  absolutely  lost  in  his  own  fervor  as 
to  be  unmindful  of  the  expediency  of  getting  a  little  nearer  to 
the  door. 

"I  have  been  struck  this  day,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "with 
a  walking-stick  (which  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  has 
knobs  upon  it),  on  that  delicate  and  exquisite  portion  of  the 
human  anatomy,  the  brain.  Several  blows  have  been  inflicted, 
sir,  without  a  walking  stick,  upon  that  tenderer  portion  of  my 
frame  :  my  heart.  You  have  mentioned,  sir,  my  being  bank- 
rupt in  my  purse.  Yes,  sir,  I  am.  By  an  unfortunate  specu- 
lation, combined  with  treachery,  I  find  myself  reduced  to 
poverty  ;  at  a  time,  sir,  when  the  child  of  my  bosom  is  wid- 
owed, and  affliction  and  disgrace  are  in 'my  family." 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff  wiped  his  eyes  again,  and  gave  himself 
two  or  three  little  knocks  upon  the  breast,  as  if  he  were  an- 
swering two  or  three  other  little  knocks  from  wdthin,  given  by 
the  tinkling  hammer  of  his  conscience,  to  express  "  Cheer  up, 
my  boy  !" 

"  I  know  the  human  mind,  although  I  trust  it.  That  is 
my  weakness.  Do  I  not  know,  sir ; "  here  he  became  exceed- 
ingly plaintive,  and  was  observed  to  glance  towards  Tom 
Pinch ;  "  that  my  misfortunes  bring  this  treatment  on  me  ? 
Do  I  not  know,  sir,  that  but  for  them  1  never  should  have 
heard  what  I  have  heard  to-day?  Do  I  not  know,  that  in  the 
silence  and  the  solitude  of  night,  a  little  voice  will  whisper  in 
your  ear,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  '  This  was  not  well.  This  was  not 
well,  sir  ! '  Think  of  this,  sir  (if  you  will  have  the  goodness), 
remote  from  the  impulses  of  passion,  and  apart  from  the 
specialities,  if  I  may  use  that  strong  remark,  of  prejudice. 
And  if  you  ever  contemplate  the  silent  tomb,  sir,  which  you 
will  excuse  me  for  entertnining  some  doubt  of  your  doing, 
after  the  conduct  into  which  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be 
betrayed  this  day  ;  if  you  ever  contemplate  the  silent  tomb, 
sir,  think  of  me.  If  you  find  yourself  approaching  to  the 
silent  tomb,  sir,  think  of  me.  If  you  should  wish  to  have 
anything  inscribed  upon  your  silent  tomb,  sir,  let  it  be,  that  I 
— ah,  my  remorseful  sir  !  that  I — the  humble  individual  who 
has  now  the  honor  of  reproaching  you,  forgave  you.  That  I 
forgave  you  when  my  injuries  were  fresh,  and  when  my  bosom 
was  newly  wrung.     It  may  be  bitterness  to  you  to  hear  it  now, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEIVIT.  807 

sir,  but  you  will  live  to  seek  a  consolation  in  it.  May  you  find 
a  consolation  in  it  when  you  want  it,  sir  !  Good  morning  !  " 
With  this  sublime  address,  Mr.  Pecksniff  departed.  But 
the  effect  of  his  departure  was  much  impaired  by  his  being 
immediately  afterwards  run  against,  and  nearly  knocked  down 
by,  a  monstrously-excited  little  man  in  velveteen  shorts  and  a 
ver)'  taU  hat ;  who  came  bursting  up  the  stairs,  and  straight 
into  the  chambers  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  if  he  were  deranged. 

"  Is  there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  ?  "  cried  the  little 
man.  "  Is  there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  ?  Oh,  my 
stars,  is  there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  !  " 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  an  explanation  ;  but  nobody 
knew  anything  more  than  that  here  was  an  excited  little  man 
with  a  very  tall  hat  on,  running  in  and  out  of  the  room  as 
hard  as  he  could  go ;  making  his  single  pair  of  bright  blue 
stockings  appear  at  least  a  dozen  ;  and  constantly  repeating 
in  a  shrill  voice,  ' '  Is  there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  ?  " 

If  your  brains  is  not  turned  topjy  turjey,  Mr.  Sweedle- 
pipes  !  "  exclaimed  another  voice,  "  hold  that  there  nige  of 
yourn,  I  beg  you,  sir." 

At  the  same  time  Mrs.  Gamp  was  seen  in  the  doorway  ; 
out  of  breath  from  coming  up  so  many  stairs,  and  panting 
fearfully  ;  but  dropping  curtseys  to  the  last. 

"  Excuge  the  weakness  of  the  man,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
eyeing  Mr.Sweedlepipe  with  great  indignation  ;  "  and  well  I 
might  expect  it,  as  I  should  have  know'd,  and  wishin'  he  was 
drownded  in  the  Thames  afore  I  had  brought  him  here,  which 
not  a  blessed  hour  ago  he  nearly  shaved  the  noge  off  from  the 
father  of  as  lovely  a  family  as  ever,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  was  born 
three  sets  of  twins,  and  would  have  done  it,  only  he  see  it  a 
goin'  in  the  glass,  and  dodged  the  rager.  And  never,  Mr. 
Sweedlepipes,  I  do  assure  you,  sir,  did  I  so  well  know  what  a 
misfortun  it  was  to  be  acquainted  with  you,  as  now  I  do, 
which  so  I  say,  sir,  and  I  don't  deceive  you  !  " 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen  all,"  cried  the 
little  barber,  taking  off  his  hat,  "  and  yours  too,  Mrs.  Gamp. 
But — but,"  he  added  this,  half-laughing  and  half-crying,  'Is 
there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  !  " 

As  the  barber  said  these,  words,  a  something  in  top-boots, 
with  its  head  bandaged  up,  staggered  into  the  room,  and 
began  going  round  and  round,  and  round  apparently  under  the 
impression  that  it  was  walking  straight  forward. 

"•  Look  at  him  !  "  cried  the  excited  little  barber.     "  Here 


8o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

he  is  !  That'll  soon  wear  off,  and  then  he'll  be  all  right  again. 
He's  no  more  dead  than  I  am.  He's  all  alive  and  hearty. 
Ain't  you  Bailey  ?  " 

"  R — r— reether  so,  Poll !  "  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  Look  here  !  "  cried  the  little  barber,  laughing  and  crying 
in  the  same  breath,  "  When  I  steady  him  he  comes  all  right. 
There  !  He's  all  right  now.  Nothing's  the  matter  with'him 
now,  except  that  he's  a  little  shook  and  rather  giddy  ;  is  there 
Bailey .? " 

"R — r — reether  shook,  Poll  —  reether  so!"  said  Mr. 
Bailey.     "  What,  my  lovely  Sairey !     There  you  air  !  " 

"  What  a  boy  he  is !  "  cried  the  tender-hearted  Poll, 
actually  sobbing  over  him.  "  I  never  see  sech  a  boy  !  It's 
all  his  fun.  He's  full  of  it.  He  shall  go  into  the  business 
along  with  me.  I  am  determined  he  shall.  We'll  make  it 
Sweedlepipe  and  Bailey.  He  shall  have  the  sporting  branch 
(what  a  one  he'll  be  for  the  matches  !)  and  me  the  shavin'. 
I'll  make  over  the  birds  to  him  as  soon  as  ever  he's  well 
enough.  He  shall  have  the  little  bullfinch  in  the  shop,  and 
all.  He's  sech  a  boy!  I  ask  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, but  I  thought  there  might  be  some  one  here  that  know'd 
him  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  observed,  not  without  jealousy  and  scorn, 
that  a  favorable  impression  appeared  to  exist  in  behalf  of 
Mr.  Sweedlepipe  and  his  young  friend  :  and  that  she  had 
fallen  rather  into  the  background  in  consequence.  She  now 
struggled  to  the  front,  therefore,  and  stated  her  business. 

"  Which,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  she  said,  "is  well  beknown  to 
Mrs.  Harris  as  has  one  sweet  infant  (though  she  do  not  wish  it 
known)  in  her  own  family  by  the  mother's  side,  kep  in  spirits 
in  a  bottle  ;  and  that  sweet  babe  she  see  at  Greenwich  Fair,  a 
travelling  in  company  with  the  pink-eyed  lady,  Prooshan 
dwarf,  and  livin'  skelinton,  which  judge  her  feelins  wen  the 
barrel  organ  played,  and  she  was  showed  her  own  dear  sister's 
child,  the  same  not  bein'  expected  from  the  outside  picter,  where 
it  was  painted  quite  contrairy  in  a  li\in'  state,  a  many  sizes 
larger,  and  performing  beautiful  upon  the  Arp,  which  never 
did  that  dear  child  know  or  do  :  since  breathe  it  never  did,  to 
speak  on,  in  this  wale  !  And  Mrs.  Harris,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 
has  knowed  me  many  year,  and  can  give  you  information  that 
the  lady  which  is  widdered  can't  do  better  and  may  do  worse, 
than  let  me  wait  upon  her,  which  I  hope  to  do.  Permittin'  the 
sweet  faces  as  I  see  afore  me." 


MA R  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT.  809 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr  Chuzzlewit.  "  Is  that  your  business  ? 
Was  this  good  person  paid  for  the  trouble  we  gave  her  ? " 

"  I  paid  her,  sir,"  returned  Mark  Taplay  ;  "  Hberal." 

"The  young  man's  words  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and 
thank  you  kindly." 

"  Then  here  we  will  close  our  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Gamp," 
retorted  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "And  Mr.  Sweedlepipe — is  that 
your  name  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  replied  Poll,  accepting  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  gratitude,  some  chinking  pieces  which  the  old  man 
slipped  into  his  hand. 

"  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  take  as  much  care  of  your  lady-lodger 
as  you  can,  and  give  her  a  word  or  two  of  good  advice  now 
and  then.  Such,"  said  old  Martin,  looking  gravely  at  the 
astonished  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  as  hinting  at  the  expediency  of  a 
little  less  liquor,  and  a  little  more  humanity,  and  a  little  less 
regard  for  herself,  and  a  little  more  regard  for  her  patients, 
and  perhaps  a  trifle  of  additional  honesty.  Or  when  Mrs. 
Gamp  gets  into  trouble,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  it  had  better  not  be 
at  a  time  when  I  am  near  enough  to  the  Old  Bailey,  to  volun- 
teer myself  as  a  witness  to  her  character.  Endeavor  to  im- 
press that  upon  her  at  your  leisure,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Gamp  clasped  her  hands,  turned  up  her  eyes  until 
they  were  quite  uivisible,  threw  back  her  bonnet  for  the  admis- 
sion of  fresh  air  to  her  heated  brow  ;  and  in  the  act  of  saying 
faintly — "  Less  liquor ! — Sairey  Gamp — Bottle  on  the  chimney- 
piece,  and  let  me  put  my  lips  to  it,  when  I  am  so  dispoged  !  " 
— fell  into  one  of  the  walking  swoons  ;  in  which  pitiable  state 
she  was  conducted  forth  by  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  who,  between 
his  two  patients,  the  swooning  Mrs.  Gamp  and  the  revolving 
Bailey,  had  enough  to  do,  poor  fellow. 

The  old  man  looked  about  him,  with  a  smile,  until  his  eyes 
rested  on  Tom  Pinch's  sister ;  when  he  smiled  the  more. 

"  We  will  all  dine  here  together,"  he  said  ;  "  and  as  you 
and  Mary  have  enough  to  talk  of,  Martin,  you  shall  keep  house 
for  us  until  the  afternoon,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tapley.  I  must 
see  your  lodgings  in  the  meanwhile,  Tom." 

Tom  was  quite  delighted.  So  was  Ruth.  She  would  go 
with  them. 

"  Thank  you,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  But  1  am 
afraid  I  must  take  Tom  a  little  out  of  the  way,  on  business. 
Suppose  you  go  on  first,  my  dear  ?  " 

Pretty  little  Ruth  was  equally  delighted  to  do  that. 


8 1  o  MARTIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 

"  But  not  alone,"  said  Martin,  "  not  alone.  Mr.  Westlock, 
I  dare  say,  will  escort  you." 

Why,  of  course  he  would  :  what  else  had  Mr.  Westlock  in 
his  mind .''     How  dull  these  old  men  are  ! 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  no  engagement  ? "  he  persisted. 

Engagement !     As  if  he  could  have  any  engagement ! 

So  they  went  ofif  arm  in  arm.  When  Tom  and  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  went  off  arm  in  arm  a  few  minutes  after  them,  the 
latter  was  still  smiling :  and  really,  for  a  gentleman  of  his 
habits,  in  rather  a  knowing  manner. 


CHAPTER  LIH. 


WHAT  JOHN  WESTLOCfK  SAID  TO  TOM  PINCH's  SISTER;  WHAT 
TOM  pinch's  SISTER  SAID  TO  JOHN  WESTLOCK  ;  WHAT 
TOM  PINCH  SAID  TO  BOTH  OF  THEM  ;  AND  HOW  THEY 
ALL    PASSED    THE    REMAINDER    OF    THE    DAY. 

Brilliantly  the  Temple  Fountain  sparkled  in  the  sun, 
and  laughingly  its  liquid  music  played,  and  merrily  the  idle 
drops  of  water  danced  and  danced,  and  peeping  out  in  sport 
among  the  trees,  plunged  lightly  down  to  hide  themselves,  as 
little  Ruth  and  her  companions  came  towards  it. 

And  why  they  came  towards  the  Fountain  at  all  is  a 
mystery  ;  for  they  had  no  business  there.  It  was  not  in  their 
way.  It  was  quite  out  of  their  way.  They  had  no  more  to 
do  with  the  Fountain,  bless  you,  than  they  had  with — with 
Love,  or  any  out  of  the  way  thing  of  that  sort. 

It  was  all  very  well  for  Tom  and  his  sister  to  make  ap- 
pointments by  the  Fountain,  but  that  was  quite  another  affair. 
Because,  of  course,  when  she  had  to  wait  a  minute  or  two,  it 
would  have  been  very  awkward  for  her  to  have  had  to  wait  in 
any  but  a  tolerably  quiet  spot ;  and  that  was  as  quiet  a  spot, 
everything  considered,  as  they  could  choose.  But  when  she 
had  John  Westlock  to  take  care  of  her,  and  was  going  home 
with  her  arm  in  his  (home  being  in  a  different  direction  al- 
together), their  coming  anywhere  near  that  Fountain,  was 
quite  extraordinary. 

However,  there  they  found  themselves.     And  another  ex- 


MAR  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT.  8 1 1 

traordinaty  part  of  the  matter  was,  that  they  seemed  to  have 
come  there,  by  a  silent  understanding.  Yet  when  they  got 
here,  they  were  a  Httle  confused  by  being  there,  which  was  the 
strangest  part  of  all  ;  because  there  is  nothing  naturally  con- 
fusing in  a  Fountain.     We  all  know  that. 

What  a  good  old  place  it  was  !  John  said.  With  quite  an 
earnest  affection  for  it. 

"  A  pleasant  place  indeed,"  said  little  Ruth.  "  So 
shady!"  •    ' 

Oh  wicked  little  Ruth  ! 

They  came  to  a  stop  when  John  began  to  praise  it.  The 
day  was  exquisite  ;  and  stopping  at  all,  it  was  quite  natural — 
nothing  could  be  more  so — that  they  should  glance  down 
Garden  Court ;  because  Garden  Court  ends  in  the  Garden, 
and  the  Garden  ends  in  the  River,  and  that  glimpse  is  very 
bright  and  fresh  and  shining  on  a  summer's  day.  Then,  oh 
little  Ruth,  why  not  look  boldly  at  it  !  Why  fit  that  tiny  pre- 
cious, blessed  little  foot  into  the  cracked  corner  of  an  insensi- 
ble old  flagstone  in  the  pavement ;  and  be  so  veiy  anxious  to 
adjust  it  to  a  nicety  ! 

If  the  Fiery-faced  matron  in  the  crunched  bonnet  could 
have  seen  them  as  they  walked  away,  how  many  years'  pur- 
chase, might  Fiery  Face  have  been  disposed  to  take  for  her 
situation  in  Furnival's  Inn  as  laundress  to  Mr.  Westlock  ! 

They  went  away,  but  not  through  London's  streets ! 
Through  some  enchanted  cit}^  where  the  pavements  were 
of  air ;  where  all  the  rough  sounds  of  a  stirring  town  were 
softened  into  gentle  music  ;  where  ever^'  thing  was  happy  ; 
where  there  was  no  distance,  and  no  time.  There  were  two 
good-tempered  burly  draymen  letting  down  big  butts  of  beer 
into  a  cellar,  somew'here  ;  and  when  John  helped  her — almost 
lifted  her — the  lightest,  easiest,  neatest  thing  you  ever  saw — 
across  the  rope,  they  said  he  owed  them  a  good  turn  for 
giving  him  the  chance.     Celestial  draymen  ! 

Green  pastures  in  the  summer  tide,  deep-littered  straw- 
yards  in  the  winter,  no  stint  of  corn  and  clover,  ever,  to  that 
noble  horse  who  would  dance  on  the  pavement  with  a  gig 
behind  him,  and  who  frightened  her,  and  made  her  clasp  his 
arm  with  both  hands  (both  hands :  meeting  one  upon  the 
other,  so  endearingly  !),  and  caused  her  to  implore  him  to 
take  refuge  in  the  pastry-cook's  ;  and  afterwards  to  peep  out 
at  the  door  so  shrinkingly  ;  and  then  :  looking  at  him  with 
those  eyes  :  to  ask  him  was  he  sure — now  was  he  sure — they 


8 1 2  MARTIN  CHUZZLE WIT. 

might  go  safely  on  !  Oh  for  a  string  of  rampant  horses  !  For 
a  lion,  for  a  bear,  for  a  mad  bull,  for  anything  to  bring  the 
little  hands  together  on  his  arm,  again  ! 

They  talked,  of  course.  They  talked  of  Tom,  and  all 
these  changes,  and  the  attachment  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  con- 
ceived for  him,  and  the  bright  prospects  he  had  in  such  a 
friend,  and  a  great  deal  more  to  the  same  purpose.  The 
more  they  talked,  the  more  afraid  this  fluttering  little  Ruth 
became  of  any  pause  :  and  sooner  than  have  a  pause  she 
would  say  the  same  things  over  again  ;  and  if  she  hadn't 
courage  or  presence  of  mind  enough  for  that  (to  say  the 
truth  she  very  seldom  had),  she  was  ten  thousand  times  more 
charming  and  irresistible  than  she  had  be^n  before. 

"  Martin  will  be  married  very  soon  now,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
John. 

She  supposed  he  would.  Never  did  a  bewitching  little 
woman  suppose  anything  in  such  a  faint  voice  as  Ruth  sup- 
posed that. 

But  feeling  that  another  of  those  alarming  pauses  was  ap- 
proaching, she  remarked  that  he  would  have  a  beautiful  wife. 
Didn't  Mr.  Westlock  think  so.? 

"  Ye — yes,"  said  John  ;  "oh,  yes." 

She  feared  he  was  rather  hard  to  please — he  spoke  so 
coldly. 

"  Rather  say  already  pleased,"  said  John.  "  I  have 
scarcely  seen  her.  I  had  no  care  to  see  her.  I  had  no  eyes 
for  hct%  this  morning." 

Oh,  good  gracious ! 

It  was  well  they  had  reached  their  destination.  She  never 
could  have  gone  any  further.  It  would  have  been  impossible 
to  walk  in  such  a  tremble. 

Tom  had  not  come  in.  They  entered  the  triangular  parlor 
together,  and  alone.  Fiery  Face,  Fiery  Face,  how  many  years' 
purchase  now  ! 

She  sat  down  on  the  little  sofa,  and  untied  her  bonnet- 
strings.  He  sat  down  by  her  side,  and  very  near  her:  very, 
very  near  her.  Oh,  rapid,  swelling,  bursting  little  heart,  you 
knew  that  it  would  came  to  this,  and  hoped  it  would.  Why 
beat  so  wildly,  heart ! 

"  Dear  Ruth  !  Sweet  Ruth  !  If  I  had  loved  you  less,  I 
could  have  told  you  that  I  loved  you,  long  ago.  I  have  loved 
you  from  the  first.  There  never  was  a  creature  in  the  world 
more  truly  loved  than  you,  dear  Ruth,  by  me  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  813 

She  clasped  her  little  hands  before  her  face.  The  gushing 
tears  of  joy,  and  pride,  and  hope,  and  innocent  affection, 
would  not  be  restrained.  Fresh  from  her  full  young  heart 
they  came  to  answer  him. 

'"  My  dear  love  !  If  this  is — I  almost  dare  to  hope  it  is, 
now — not  painful  or  distressing  to  you,  you  make  me  happier 
than  I  can  tell,  or  you  imagine.  Darling  Ruth  !  My  own 
good,  gentle,  winning  Ruth  !  I  hope  I  know  the  value  of 
your  heart,  I  hope  I  know  the  worth  of  your  angel  nature. 
Let  me  try  and  show  you   that  I  do  ;  and  you  will  make  me 

happier,  Ruth " 

"Not  happier,"  she  sobbed,  "than  you  make  me.  No 
one  can  be  happier,  John,  than  you  make  me  !  " 

Fiery  Face,  provide  yourself !  The  usual  wages  or  the 
usual  warning.  It's  all  over,  Fiery  Face.  We  needn't  trouble 
you  any  further. 

The  little  hands  could  meet  each  other  now,  without  a 
rampant  horse  to  urge  them.  There  was  no  occasion  for 
lions,  bears,  or  mad  bulls.  It  could  all  be  done,  and  infinitely 
better,  without  their  assistance.  No  burly  draymen  or  big 
butts  of  beer,  were  wanted  for  apologies.  No  apology  at  all 
was  wanted.  The  soft  light  touch  fell  coyly,  but  quite  natur- 
ally upon  the  lover's  shoulder  ;  the  delicate  waist,  the  drooping 
head,  the  blushing  cheek,  the  beautiful  eyes,  the  exquisite 
mouth  itself,  were  all  as  natural  as  possible.  If  all  the  horses 
in  Araby  had  run  away  at  once,  they  couldn't  have  improved 
upon  it. 

They  soon  began  to  talk  of  Tom  again. 
"  I  hope   he  will  be   glad  to  hear  of  it  !  "  said  John,  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

Ruth  drew  the  little  hands  a  little  tighter  when  he  said  it, 
and  looked  up  seriously  into  his  face. 

"  I  am  never  to  leave  him,  am  I,  dear  ?  I  could  never 
leave  Tom.     I  am  sure  you  know  that." 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  ask  you  ?  "  he  returned,  with  a — 
well  !     Never  mind  with  what. 

"  I  am  sure  you  never  would,"  she  answered,  the  bright 
tears  standing  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  I  will  swear  it,  Ruth,  my  darling,  if  you  please. 
Leave  Tom  !  That  would  be  a  strange  beginning.  Leave 
Tom,  dear  !  If  Tom  and  we  be  not  inseparable,  and  Tom 
(God  bless  him)  have  not  all  honor  and  all  love  in  our  home, 
my  little  wife,  may  that  home  never  be  !  And  that's  a  strong 
oath,  Ruth." 


8 1 4  MA  R  TIN  CHUZZL  E  WIT. 

Shall  it  be  recorded  how  she  thanked  him  ?  Yes,  it  shall. 
In  all  simplicity  and  innocence  and  purity  of  heart,  yet  with  a 
timid,  graceful,  half-determined  hesitation,  she  set  a  little  rosy 
seal  upon  the  vow,  whose  color  was  reflecting  in  her  face,  and 
flashed  up  to  the  braiding  of  her  dark  brown  hair. 

"  Tom  will  be  so  happy,  and  so  proud,  and  glad,"  she  said, 
clasping  her  little  hands.  "  But  so  surprised !  I  am  sure  he 
has  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

Of  course  John  asked  her  immediately — because  you  know 
they  were  in  that  foolish  state  when  great  allowances  must  be 
made — when  she  had  begun  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  this 
made  a  little  diversion  in  their  talk ;  a  charming  diversion  to 
them,  but  not  so  interesting  to  us  ;  at  the  end  of  which,  they 
came  back  to  Tom  again. 

"  Ah  !  dear  Tom  !  "  said  Ruth.  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
tell  you  everything  now.  I  should  have  no  secrets  from  you. 
Should  I,  John,  love  ?  " 

It  is  of  no  use  saying  how  that  preposterous  John  answered 
her,  because  he  answered  in  a  manner  which  is  untranslatable 
on  paper,  though  highly  satisfactoiy  in  itself.  But  what  he 
conveyed  was.  No,  no  no,  sweet  Ruth  ;  or  something  to  that 
effect. 

Then  she  told  him  Tom's  great  secret ;  not  exactly  saying 
how  she  had  found  it  out,  but  leaving  him  to  understand  it  if 
he  liked  ;  and  John  was  sadly  grieved  to  hear  it,  and  was  full 
of  sympathy  and  sorrow.  But  they  would  tr}%  he  said,  only 
the  more,  on  this  account,  to  make  him  happy,  and  to  beguile 
him  with  his  favorite  pursuits.  And  then,  in  all  the  confi- 
dence of  such  a  time,  he  told  her  how  he  had  a  capital  oppor- 
tunity of  establishing  himself  in  his  old  profession  in  the 
country  ;  and  how  he  had  been  thinking,  in  the  event  of  that 
happiness  coming  upon  him  which  had  actually  come — there 
was  another  slight  diversion  here — how  he  had  been  thinking 
that  it  would  afford  occupation  to  Tom,  and  enable  them  to 
live  together  in  the  easiest  manner,  without  any  sense  of  de- 
pendence on  Tom's  part  :  and  to  be  as  happy  as  the  day  was 
long.  And  Ruth  receiving  this  with  joy,  they  went  on  cater- 
ing for  Tom  to  that  extent  that  they  had  already  purchased 
him  a  select  library  and  built  him  an  organ,  on  v/hich  he  was 
performing  with  the  greatest  satisfaction :  when  they  heard 
him  knocking  at  the  door. 

Though  she  longed  to  tell  him  what  had  happened,  poor 
little  Ruth  was  greatly  agitated  by  his  arrival  ;  the  more  so 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  815 

because  she  knew  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  with  him.  So  she 
said,  all  in  a  tremble  : 

"  What  shall  1  do,  dear  John  !  I  can't  bear  that  he  should 
hear  it  from  any  one  but  me,  and  I  could  not  tell  him,  unless 
we  were  alone." 

"Do,  my  love,"  said  John,  "whatever  is  natural  to  you  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  right." 

He  had  hardly  time  to  say  thus  much,  and  Ruth  had  hardly 
time  to— just  to  get  a  little  farther  off — upon  the  sofa,  when 
Tom  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  came  in.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  came  first, 
and  Tom  was  a  few  seconds  behind  him. 

Now  Ruth  had  resolved  that  she  would  beckon  Tom  up 
stairs  after  a  short  time,  and  would  tell  him  in  his  little  bed- 
room. But  when  she  saw  his  dear  old  face  come  in,  her  heart 
was  so  touched  that  she  ran  into  his  arms,  and  laid  her  head 
down  on  his  breast,  and  sobbed  out,  "  Bless  me,  Tom  !  My 
dearest  brother !  " 

Tom  looked  up,  in  surprise,  and  saw  John  Westlock  close 
beside  him,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  John  !  "  cried'  Tom.     "  John  !  " 

"Dear  Tom,"  said  his  friend,  "give  me  your  hand.  We 
are  brothers,  Tom." 

Tom  wrung  it  with  all  his  force,  embraced  his  sister  fer- 
vently, and  put  her  in  John  Westlock's  arms. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me  John.     Heaven  is  very  good  to  us. 

I "  Tom  could  find  no  further  utterance,  but  left  the  room  ; 

and  Ruth  went  after  him. 

And  when  they  came  back,  which  they  did  by  and  by,  she 
looked  more  beautiful,  and  Tom  more  good  and  true  (if  that 
were  possible)  than  ever.  And  though  Tom  could  not  speak 
upon  the  subject  even  now,  being  yet  too  newly  glad,  he  puf 
both  his  hands  in  both  of  John's  with  emphasis  sufficient  for 
the  best  speech  ever  spoken. 

"  I  am  glad  you  chose  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to 
John,  with  the  same  knowing  smile  as  when  they  had  left 
him.  "  I  thought  you  would.  I  hope  Tom  and  I  lingered 
behind  a  discreet  time.  It's  so  long  since  1  had  any  practi- 
cal knowledge  of  these  subjects,  that  I  have  been  anxious,  I 
assure  you." 

"Your  knowledge  is  still  pretty  accurate,  sir,"  returned 
John  laughing,  "  if  it  led  you  to  foresee  what  would  happen 
to-day." 

"  Why,  I  am   not  sure,  Mr.  Westlock,"  said  the  old  man, 


8j6  martin  chuzzlewit. 

''that  any  great  spirit  of  prophecy  was  needed,  after  seeing 
you  and  Ruth  together.  Come  hither,  pretty  one.  See  what 
Tom  and  I  purchased  this  morning,  while  you  were  deaHng  in 
exchange  with  that  young  merchant  there." 

The  old  man's  way  of  seating  her  beside  him,  and  humor- 
ing his  voice  as  if  she  were  a  child,  was  whimsical  enough,  but 
full  of  tenderness,  and  not  ill  adapted,  somehow,  to  little 
Ruth. 

"  See  here  !  "  he  said,  taking  a  case  from  his  pocket,  "  what 
a  beautiful  necklace.  Ah  !  How  it  glitters  !  Earrings,  too, 
and  bracelets,  and  a  zone  for  your  waist.  This  set  is  yours, 
and  Mary  has  another  like  it.  Tom  couldn't  understand  whv 
I  wanted  two.  What  a  short-sighted  Tom  !  Earrings  and 
bracelets,  and  a  zone  for  your  waist  !  Ah  !  beautiful !  Let 
us  see  how  brave  they  look.  Ask  Mr.  Westlock  to  clasp 
them  on." 

It  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see  her  holding  out  her  round, 
white  arm  ;  and  John  (oh  deep,  deep  John  !)  pretending  that 
the  bracelet  was  very  hard  to  fasten  ;  it  was  the  prettiest  thing 
to  see  her  girding  on  the  precious  little  zone,  and  yet  obliged 
to  have  assistance  because  her  fingers  were  in  such  terrible 
perplexity  :  it  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see  her  so  confused 
and  bashful,  with  the  smiles  and  blushes  playing  brightly  on 
her  face,  like  the  sparkling  light  upon  the  jewels  ;  it  was  the 
prettiest  thing  that  you  would  see,  in  the  common  experiences 
of  a  twelvemonth,  rely  upon  it. 

"The  set  of  jewels  and  the  wearer  are  so  well  matched," 
said  the  old  man,  "  that  I  don't  know  which  becomes  the 
other  most.  Mr.  Westlock  could  tell  me,  I  have  no  doubt, 
,but  I'll  not  ask  him,  for  he  is  bribed.  Health  to  wear  them 
my  dear,  and  happiness  to  make  you  forgetful  of  them,  except 
as  a  remembrance  from  a  loving  friend  !  " 

He  patted  her  upon  the  cheek,  and  said  to  Tom  : 

"  I  must  play  the  part  of  a  father  here,  Tom,  also.  There 
are  not  many  fathers  who  marry  two  such  daughters  on  the 
same  day  ;  but  we  will  overlook  the  improbability  for  the  grat- 
fication  of  an  old  man's  fancy.  I  may  claim  that  much  in- 
dulgence," he  added,  "  for  I  have  gratified  few  fancies  enough 
in  my  life  tending  to  the  happiness  of  others,  Heaven  knows  ! " 

These  various  proceedings  had  occupied  so  much  time, 
and  they  fell  into  such  a  pleasant  conversation  now,  that  it 
was  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  time  appointed  for  din- 
ner before  any  of  them  thought  about  it.     A  hackney-coach 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  8 


17 


soon  carried  them  to  the  Temple,  however,  and  there  they 
found  everything  prepared  for  their  reception. 

Mr.  Tapley  iiaving  been  furnished  with  unUmited  creden- 
tials relative  to  the  ordering  of  dinner,  had  so  exerted  himself 
for  the  honor  of  the  party,  that  a  prodigious  banquet  was 
served,  under  the  joint  direction  of  himself  and  his  intended. 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  would  have  had  them  of  the  party,  and  Martin 
urgently  seconded  his  wish,  but  Mark  could  by  no  means  be 
persuaded  to  sit  down  at  table  ;  observing,  that  in  having  the 
honor  of  attending  to  their  comforts,  he  felt  himself,  indeed, 
the  landlord  of  the  Jolly  Tapley,  and  could  almost  delude 
himself  into  the  belief  that  the  entertainment  was  actually  be- 
ing held  under  the  Jolly  Tapley's  roof. 

For  the  better  encouragement  of  himself  in  this  fable,  Mr. 
Tapley  took  it  upon  him  to  issue  divers  general  directions  to 
the  waiters  from  the  hotel,  relative  to  the  disposal  of  the  dishes 
and  so  forth  ;  and  as  they  were  usually  in  direct  opposition  to 
all  precedent,  and  were  always  issued  in  his  most  facetious 
form  of  thought  and  speech,  they  occasioned  great  merriment 
among  those  attendants  ;  in  which  Mr*.  Tapley  pardcipated, 
with  an  infinite  enjoyment  of  his  own  humor.  He  likewise 
entertained  them  with  short  anecdotes  of  his  travels,  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion ;  and  now  and  then  with  some  comic 
passage  or  other  between  himself  and  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  so  that 
explosive  laughs  were  constantly  issuing  from  the  side-board, 
and  from  the  backs  of  chairs  ;  and  the  head-waiter  (who  wore 
powder,  and  knee-smalls,  and  was  usually  a  grave  man)  got  to 
be  a  bright  scarlet  in  the  face,  and  broke  his  waistcoat-strings, 
audibly. 

Young  Martin  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  Tom  Pinch 
at  the  foot ;  and  if  there  were  a  genial  face  at  that  board,  it 
was  Tom's.  They  all  took  their  tone  from  Tom.  Everybody 
drank  to  him,  everybody  looked  to  him,  eveiybody  thought  of 
him,  everybody  loved  him.  If  he  so  much  as  laid  down  his 
knife  and'  fork,  somebody  put  out  a  hand  to  shake  with  him. 
Martin  and  Mary  had  taken  him  aside  before  dinner,  and 
spoken  to  him  so  heartily  of  the  time  to  come,  laying  such 
fervent  stress  upon  the  trust  they  had  in  his  completion  of 
their  felicit}',  by  his  society  and  closest  friendship,  that  Tom 
was  positively  moved  to  tears.  He  couldn't  bear  it.  His 
heart  was  full,  he  said,  of  happiness.  And  so  it  was.  Tom 
spoke  the  honest  truth.  It  was.  Large  as  thy  heart  was, 
dear  Tom  Pinch,  it  had  no  room  that  day,  for  anything  but 
happiness  and  sympathy  !         52 


8 1 8  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

And  there  was  Fips,  old  Fips  of  Austin  Friars,  present  at 
the  dinner,  and  turning  out  to  be  the  joUiest  old  dog  that  ever 
did  violence  to  his  convivial  sentiments  by  shutting  himself 
up  in  a  dark  office.  "  Where  is  he !  "  said  Fips,  when  he 
came  in.  And  then  he  pounced  on  Tom,  and  to.d  him  that 
he  wanted  to  relieve  himself  of  all  his  old  constraint :  and  in 
the  first  place  shook  him  by  one  hand,  and  in  the  second  place 
shook  him  by  the  other,  and  in  the  third  place  nudged  him  in 
the  waistcoat,  and  in  the  fourth  place,  said  "  How  are  you  !  " 
and  in  a  great  many  other  places  did  a  great  many  other  things 
to  show  his  friendliness  and  joy.  And  he  sang  songs,  did 
Fips  ;  and  made  speeches,  did  Fips  ;  and  knocked  off  his  wine 
pretty  handsomely,  did  Fips  ;  and  in  short,  he  showed  himself 
a  perfect  Trump,  did  Fips,  in  all  respects. 

But  ah !  the  happiness  of  strolling  home  at  night — obsti- 
nate little  Ruth,  she  wouldn't  hear  of  riding ! — as  they  had 
done  on  that  dear  night,  from  Furnival's  Inn  !  The  happiness 
of  being  able  to  talk  about  it,  and  to  confide  their  happiness 
to  each  other  !  The  happiness  of  stating  all  their  little  plans 
to  Tom,  and  seeing  his  bright  face  grow  brighter  as  they 
spoke ! 

When  they  reached  home,  Tom  left  John  and  his  sister  in 
the  parlor,  and  went  up  stairs  to  his  own  room,  under  pre- 
tence of  seeking  a  book.  And  Tom  actually  winked  to  him- 
self, when  he  got  up  stairs,  he  thought  it  such  a  deep  thing 
to  have  done. 

"  They  like  to  be  by  themselves,  of  course,"  said  Tom  ; 
"  and  I  came  away  so  naturally,  that  I  have  no  doubt  they  are 
expecting  me,  every  moment  to  return.     That's  capital !  " 

But  he  had  not  sat  reading  very  long,  when  he  heard  a  tap 
at  his  door. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  said  John. 

"  Oh,  surely  !  "  Tom  replied. 

"  Don't  leave  us,  Tom.  Don't  sit  by  yourself.  We  want 
to  make  you  merry  ;  not  melancholy." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Tom,  with  a  cheerful  smile. 

"  Brother,  Tom.     Brother." 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  Tom  ;  "  there  is  no  danger  of 
my  being  melancholy,  how  can  I  be  melancholy,  when  I  know 
that  you  and  Ruth  are  so  blest  in  each  other  !  I  think  I  can 
find  my  tongue  to-night,  John,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
pause.  "  But  I  never  can  tell  you  what  unutterable  joy  this 
day  has  given  me.     It  would  be  unjust  to  you  to  speak  of  your 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  S19 

having  chosen  a  portionless  girl,  for  I  feel  that  you  know  her 
worth  ;  I  am  sure  you  know  her  worth.  Nor  will  it  diminish 
in  your  estimation,  John,  which  money  might." 

"  Which  money  would,  Tom,"  he  returned.  "  Her  worth  } 
Oh,  who  could  see  her  here,  and  not  love  her !  Who  could 
know  her,  Tom,  and  not  honor  her  !  Who  could  ever  stand 
possessed  of  such  a  heart  as  hers,  and  grow  indifferent  to  the 
treasure  !  Who  could  feel  the  rapture  that  I  feel  to-day,  and 
love  as  I  love  her,  Tom,  without  knowing  something  of  her 
worth  !  Your  joy  unutterable !  No,  no,  Tom.  It's  mine,  it's 
mine." 

"  No,  no,  John,"  said  Tom.     "  It's  mine,  it's  mine." 

Their  friendly  contention  was  brought  to  a  close  by  little 
Ruth  herself,  who  came  peeping  in  at  the  door.  And  oh,  the 
look,  the  glorious,  half-proud,  half-timid  look  she  gave  Tom, 
when  her  lover  drew  her  to  his  side  !  As  much  as  to  say, 
"  Yes  indeed,  Tom,  he  will  do  it.  But  then  he  has  a  right, 
you  know.     Because  I  am  fond  of  him,  Tom." 

As  to  Tom,  he  was  perfectly  delighted.  He  could  have 
sat  and  looked  at  them,  just  as  they  were,  for  hours. 

"  I  have  told  Tom,  love,  as  we  agreed,  that  we  are  not 
going  to  permit  him  to  run  away,  and  that  we  cannot  possibly 
allow  it.  The  loss  of  one  person,  and  such  a  person  as  Tom, 
too,  out  of  our  small  household  of  three,  is  not  to  be  endured  ; 
and  so  I  have  told  him.  Whether  he  is  considerate,  or  whether 
he  is  only  selfish,  I  don't  know.  But  he  needn't  be  consider- 
ate, for  he  is  not  the  least  restraint  upon  us.  Is  he,  dearest 
Ruth .? " 

Well !  He  really  did  not  seem  to  be  any  particular  re- 
straint upon  them.     Judging  from  what  ensued. 

Was  it  folly  in  Tom  to  be  so  pleased  by  their  remembrance 
of  him,  at  such  a  time  ?  Was  their  graceful  love  a  folly,  were 
their  dear  caresses  follies,  was  their  lengthened  parting  folly  ? 
Was  it  folly  in  him  to  watch  her  window  from  the  street,  and 
rate  its  scantiest  gleam  of  lifrht  above  all  diamonds  :  follv  in 
her  to  breathe  his  name  upon  her  knees,  and  pour  out  her 
pure  heart  before  that  Being,  from  whom  such  hearts  and  such 
affections  come  t 

If  these  be  follies,  then  Fiery  Face  go  on  and  prosper !  If 
they  be  not,  then  Fiery  Face  avaunt !  But  set  the  crunched 
bonnet  at  some  other  single  gentleman,  in  any  case,  for  one  is 
lost  to  thee  for  ever ! 


8  2  o  MAH  TIN  C MUZZLE  WIT. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

GIVES    THE   AUTHOR   GREAT   CONCERN.         FOR    IT   IS    THE   LAST 

IN    THE    BOOK. 

ToDGERs's  was  in  high  feather,  and  mighty  preparations 
for  a  late  breakfast  were  astir  in  its  commercial  bowers.  The 
blissful  morning  had  arrived  when  Miss  Pecksniff  was  to  be 
united,  in  holy  matrimony,  to  Augustus. 

Miss  Pecksniff  was  in  a  frame  of  mind,  equally  becoming 
to  herself  and  the  occasion.  She  was  full  of  clemencv  and 
conciliation.  She  had  laid  in  several  chaldrons  of  live  coals, 
and  was  prepared  to  heap  them  on  the  heads  of  her  enemies. 
She  bore  no  spite  nor  malice  in  her  heart.     Not  the  least. 

Quarrels,  Miss  Pecksniff  said,  were  dreadful  things  in 
families  ;  and  though  she  never  could  forgive  her  dear  papa, 
she  was  willing  to  receive  her  other  relations.  They  had  been 
separated,  she  observed,  too  long.  It  was  enough  to  call  down 
a  judgment  upon  the  family.  She  believed  the  death  of  Jonas 
was  a  judgment  on  them  for  their  internal  dissensions.  And 
Miss  Pecksniff  was  confirmed  in  this  belief,  by  the  lightness 
with  which  the  visitation  had  fallen  on  herself. 

By  way  of  doing  sacrifice — not  in  triumph  ;  not,  of 
course,  in  triumph,  but  in  humiliation  of  spirit — this  amiable 
young  person  wrote,  therefore,  to  her  kinswoman  of  the  strong 
mind,  and  informed  her,  that  her  nuptials  would  take  place  on 
such  a  day.  That  she  had  been  much  hurt  by  the  unnatural 
conduct  of  herself  and  daughters,  and  hoped  they  might  not 
have  suffered  in  their  consciences.  That  being  desirous  to 
forgive  her  enemies,  and  make  her  peace  with  the  world  be- 
fore entering  into  the  most  solemn  of  covenants  with  the  most 
devoted  of  men,  she  now  held  out  the  hand  of  friendship. 
That  if  the  strong-minded  woman  took  that  hand,  in  the  tem- 
per in  which  it  was  extended  to  her,  she.  Miss  Pecksniff,  did 
invite  her  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony  of  her  marriage,  and 
did  furthermore  invite  the  three  red-nosed  spinsters,  her 
daughters  (but  Miss  Pecksniff  did  not  particularize  their 
noses)  to  attend  as  bridesmaids. 

The  strong-minded  woman  returned  for  answer,  that  her- 
self and  daughters  were,  as  regarded  their  consciences,  in  the 


MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT.  82  x 

enjoyment  of  robust  health,  which  she  knew  Miss  Pecksnift 
would  be  glad  to  hear.  That  she  had  received  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's note  with  unalloyed  delight,  because  she  never  had 
attached  the  least  importance  to  the  paltry  and  insignificant 
jealousies  with  which  herself  and  circle  had  been  assailed  ; 
otherwise  than  as  she  found  them,  in  the  contemplation,  a 
harmless  source  of  innocent  mirth.  That  she  would  joyfully 
attend  Miss  Pecksniff's  bridal ;  and  that  her  three  dear 
daughters  would  be  happy  to  assist,  on  so  interesting,  and  so 
very  unexpected — which  the  strong-minded  woman  underlined 
— so  very  unexpected  an  occasion. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  gracious  reply.  Miss  Pecksniff  ex- 
tended her  forgiveness  and  her  invitations  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Spottletoe  ;  to  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  the  bachelor  cousin  ; 
to  the  solitary  female  who  usually  had  the  tooth-ache  ;  and  to 
the  hairy  young  gentleman  with  the  outline  of  a  face ;  sur- 
viving remnants  of  the  party  that  had  once  assembled  in  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  parlor.  After  which  Miss  Pecksniff  remarked, 
that  there  was  a  sweetness  in  doing  our  duty,  which  neutral- 
ized the  bitter  in  our  cups. 

The  wedding  guests  had  not  yet  assembled,  and  indeed  it 
was  so  early  that  Miss  Pecksniff  herself  was  in  the  act  of 
dressing  at  her  leisure,  when  a  carriage  stopped  near  the 
Monument  ;  and  Mark,  dismounting  from  the  rumble,  assisted 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  alight.  The  carriage  remained  in  waiting  ; 
so  did  Mr.  Tapley.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  betook  himself  to 
Todgers's. 

He  was  shown,  by  the  degenerate  successor  of  Mr.  Bailey, 
into  the  dining-parlor  ;  where — for  his  visit  was  expected — • 
Mrs.  Todgers  immediately  appeared. 

"  You  are  dressed,  I  see,  for  the  wedding,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Todgers,  who  was  greatly  flurried  by  the  preparations, 
replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  It  goes  against  my  wishes  to  have  it  in  progress  just 
now,  I  assure  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers;  "  but  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's mind  was  set  upon  it,  and  it  really  is  time  that  Miss 
Pecksniff  was  married.     That  cannot  be  denied,  sir." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  assuredly  not.  Her  sister 
takes  no  part  in  the  proceedmgs  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  sir.  Poor  thing !  "  said  J.Irs.  Todgers, 
shaking  her  head,  and  dropping  her  voice.  "  Since  she  has 
known  the  worst,  she  has  never  left  my  room  ;  the  next 
room." 


82  2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT. 

"  Is  she  prepared  to  see  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Quite  prepared,  sir." 

"  Then  let  us  lose  no  time." 

Mrs.  Todgers  conducted  him  into  the  little  back  chamber 
commanding  the  prospect  of  the  cistern  ;  and  there,  sadly 
different  from  when  it  had  first  been  her  lodging,  sat  poor 
Merry,  in  mourning  weeds.  The  room  looked  very  dark  and 
sorrowful  ;  and  so  did  she  ;  but  she  had  one  friend  beside  her, 
faithful  to  the  last,  Old  Chuffey. 

When  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  sat  down  at  her  side,  she  took  his 
hand  and  put  it  to  her  lips.  She  was  in  great  grief.  He  too 
was  agitated  ;  for  he  had  not  seen  her  since  their  parting  in 
the  churchyard. 

"  I  judged  you  hastily,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  fear 
I  judged  you  cruelly.  Let  me  know  that  I  have  your  for- 
giveness." 

She  kissed  his  hand  again  ;  and  retaining  it  in  hers, 
thanked  him,  in  a  broken  voice,  for  all  his  kindness  to  her, 
since. 

"  Tom  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  "has  faithfully  related  to  me 
all  that  you  desired  him  to  convey ;  at  a  time  when  he  deemed 
it  very  improbable  that  he  would  ever  have  an  opportunity  of 
delivering  your  message.  Believe  me,  that  if  I  ever  deal  again 
with  an  ill-advised  and  unawakened  nature,  hiding  the  strength 
it  thinks  its  weakness,  I  will  have  long  and  merciful  consider- 
ation for  it." 

"  You  had  for  me  ;  even  for  me,"  she  answered.  "  I  quite 
believe  it.  I  said  the  words  you  have  repeated,  when  my  dis- 
tress was  very  sharp  and  hard  to  bear  ;  I  say  them  now  for 
others  ;  but  I  cannot  urge  them  for  myself.  You  spoke  to  me 
after  you  had  seen  and  watched  me  day  by  day.  There  was 
great  consideration  in  that.  You  might  have  spoken,  perhaps, 
more  kindly  ;  you  might  have  tried  to  invite  my  confidence  by 
greater  gentleness  ;  but  the  end  would  have  been  the  same." 

He  shook  his  head  in  doubt,  and  not  without  some  inward 
self-reproach. 

"  How  can  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  your  interposition 
would  have  prevailed  with  me,  when  I  know  how  obdurate  I 
was  !  I  never  thought  at  all  ;  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  never 
thought  at  all  ;  I  had  no  thought,  no  heart,  no  care  to  find 
one  ;  at  that  time.  It  has  grown  out  of  my  trouble.  I  have  felt 
it  in  my  trouble.  I  wouldn't  recall  my  trouble,  such  as  it  is, 
and  has  been — and  it  is  light  in  comparison  with  trials  which 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  823 

hundreds  of  good  people  suffer  every  day,  I  know — I  wouldn't 
recall  it  to-morrow,  if  1  could.  It  has  been  my  friend,  for 
without  it,  no  one  could  have  changed  me  ;  nothing  could 
have  changed  me.  Do  not  mistrust  me  because  of  these  tears  ; 
I  cannot  help  them.  I  am  grateful  for  it,  in  my  soul.  In- 
deed I  am  !" 

"  Indeed  she  is  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  I  believe  it,  sir." 

"  And  so  do  I !  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  Now,  attend  to 
me,  my  dear.  Your  late  husband's  estate,  if  not  wasted  by 
the  confession  of  a  large  debt  to  the  broken  office  (which  doc- 
ument, being  useless  to  the  runaways,  has  been  sent  over  to 
England  by  them  :  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  creditors 
as  for  the  gratification  of  their  dislike  to  him,  whom  they  sup- 
pose to  be  still  living),  will  be  seized  upon  by  law  ;  for  it  is 
not  exempt,  as  I  learn,  from  the  claims  of  those  who  have 
suffered  by  the  fraud  in  which  he  was  engaged.  Your  father's 
property  was  aH,  or  nearly  all,  embarked  in  the  same  trans- 
action. If  there  be  any  left,  it  will  be  seized  on,  in  like  man- 
ner.    There  is  no  home  thcre.^'' 

"  I  couldn't  return  to  him,"  she  said,  with  instinctive  ref- 
erence to  his  having  forced  her  marriage  on.  "  I  could  not 
return  to  him  !  " 

"  I  know  it,"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  resumed  :  "  and  I  am  here, 
because  I  know  it.  Come  with  me  !  From  all  who  are  about 
me,  you  are  certain  (I  have  ascertained  it)  of  a  generous  wel- 
come. But  until  vour  health  is  re-established,  and  vou  are 
sufficiently  composed  to  bear  that  welcome,  you  shall  have 
your  abode  in  any  quiet  retreat  of  your  own  chosing,  near 
London  ;  not  so  far  removed  but  that  this  kind-hearted  lady 
may  still  visit  you  as  often  as  she  pleases.  You  have  suffered 
much ;  but  you  are  young,  and  ha\e  a  brighter  and  a  better 
future  stretching  out  before  you.  Come  with  me.  Your  sister 
is  careless  of  you,  I  know.  She  hurries  on  and  publishes  her 
marriage,  in  a  spirit  which  (to  say  no  more  of  it)  is  barely  de- 
cent, is  unsisterly,  and  bad.  Leave  the  house  before  her 
guests  arrive.  She  means  to  give  you  pain.  Spare  her  the 
offence,  and  come  with  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Todgers,  though  most  unwilling  to  part  with  her, 
added  her  persuasions.  Even  poor  old  Chuffey  (of  course  in- 
cluded in  the  project)  added  his.  She  hurriedly  attired  her- 
self, and  was  ready  to  depart,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  dashed 
into  the  room. 

Miss  Pecksniff  dashed  in  so  suddenly,  that  she  was  placed 


824  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  an  embarrassing  position.  For,  though  she  had  completed 
her  bridal  toilette  as  to  her  head,  on  which  she  wore  a  bridal 
bonnet  with  orange  flowers,  she  had  not  completed  it  as  to 
her  skirts,  which  displayed  no  choicer  decoration^  than  a 
dimity  bedgown.  She  had  dashed  in,  in  fact,  about  half  way 
through,  to  console  her  sister  in  her  affliction  with  a  sight  of 
the  aforesaid  bonnet ;  and  being  quite  unconscious  of  the 
presence  of  a  visitor,  until  she  found  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  standing 
face  to  face  with  her,  her  surprise  was  an  uncomfortable  one. 

"  .So,  young  lady  I "  said  the  old  man,  eyeing  her  with 
strong  disfavor.     "  You  are  to  be  married  to-day  1 " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  modestly.  "lam.  I 
— my  dress  is  rather — really,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

"Your  delicacy,"  said  old  Martin,  "is  troubled,  I  per- 
ceive. I  am  not  surprised  to  find  it  so.  You  have  chosen 
the  period  of  your  marriage,  unfortunately." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  retorted  Cherry; 
very  red  and  angry  in  a  moment  :  "  but  if  you  have  anything 
to  say  on  that  subject,  I  must  beg  to  refer  you  to  Augustus. 
You  will  scarcely  think  it  manly,  I  hope,  to  force  an  argument 
on  me,  when  Augustus  is  at  all  times  ready  to  discuss  it  with 
you.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  deceptions  that  may  have 
been  practised  on  my  parent,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  pointedly; 
"  and  as  I  wish  to  be  on  good  terms  with  everybody  at  such 
a  time,  I  should  have  been  glad  if  you  would  have  favored 
us  with  your  company  at  breakfast.  But  I  will  not  ask  you 
as  it  is,  seeing  that  you  have  been  prepossessed  and  set 
against  me  in  another  quarter.  I  hope  I  have  my  natural 
affections  for  another  quarter,  and  my  natural  pity  for  another 
quarter ;  but  I  cannot  always  submit  to  be  subservient  to  it, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  That  would  be  a  little  too  much.  I  trust  I 
have  more  respect  for  myself,  as  well  as  for  the  man  who 
claims  me  as  his  Bride." 

"Your  sister,  meeting — as  I  think,  not  as  she  says,  for 
she  has  said  nothing  about  it — with  little  consideration  from 
you,  is  going  away  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"I  am  very  happy  to  find  that  she  has  some  good  fortune 
at  last,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  tossing  her  head.  "  I  con- 
gratulate her,  I  am  sure.  I  am  not  surprised  that  this  event 
should  be  painful  to  her — painful  to  her — but  I  can't  help 
that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.     It's  not  my  fault." 

"  Come,  Miss  Pecksniff !  "  said  the  old  man,  quietl3\  I 
should  like  to  see  a  better  parting  between  you.     I   should 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


825 


like  to  see  a  better  parting  on  your  side,  in  such  circum- 
stances. It  would  make  me  your  friend.  You  may  want  a 
friend  one  day  or  other." 

"  Every  relation  of  life,  I\Ir.  Chuzzlewit,  begging  your 
pardon,  and  every  friend  in  life,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff 
with  dignity,  "is  now  bound  up  and  cemented  in  Augustus. 
So  long  as  Augustus  is  my  own,  I  cannot  want  a  friend. 
When  you  speak  of  friends,  sir,  I  must  beg,  once  for  all,  to 
refer  you  to  Augustus.  That  is  my  impression  of  the  religious 
ceremony  in  which  I  am  so  soon  to  take  a  part  at  that  altar 
to  which  Augustus  will  conduct  me.  I  bear  no  malice  at  any 
time,  much  less  in  a  moment  of  triumph,  towards  any  one  ; 
much  less  towards  my  sister.  On  the  contrary,  I  congratulate 
her.  If  you  didn't  hear  me  say  so,  I  am  not  to  blame.  And 
as  I  owe  it  to  Augustus,  to  be  punctual  on  an  occasion  when 
he  may  naturally  be  supposed  to  be — to  be  impatient — really, 
Mrs.  Todgersl^^I  must  beg  your  leave,  sir,  to  retire." 

After  these  words  the  bridal  bonnet  disappeared ;  with  as 
much  state,  as  the  dimity  bedgown  left  in  it. 

Old  Martin  gave  his  arm  to  the  younger  sister  without 
speaking,  and  led  her  out.  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  her  holiday 
garments  fluttering  in  the  wind,  accompanied  them  to  the  car- 
riage, clung  round  Merry's  neck  at  parting,  and  ran  back  to 
her  own  dingy  house,  crying  the  whole  way.  She  had  a  lean 
lank  body,  Mrs.  Todgers,  but  a  well-conditioned  soul  within. 
Perhaps  the  Good  Samaritan  was  lean  and  lank,  and  found  it 
hard  to  live.     Who  knows  ! 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  followed  her  so  closely  with  his  eves,  that, 
until  she  had  shut  her  own  door,  they  did  not  encounter  Mr. 
Tapley's  face. 

*'  Why,  Mark  !  "  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  observed  it,  "  what's 
the  matter  !  " 

"  The  wonderfullcst  ewent,  sir  !  "  returned  Mark,  pump- 
ing at  his  voice  in  a  most  laborious  manner,  and  hardly  able 
to  articulate  with  all  his  efforts.  "  A  coincidence  as  never 
was  equalled  !  I'm  blessed  if  here  ain't  two  old  neighbors  of 
ourn,  sir !  " 

"  What  neighbors  !  "  cried  old  Martin,  looking  out  of  win- 
dow.    "  Where  ?  " 

"/was  a  walkin' up  and  down  not  five  yards  from  this 
spot,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  breathless,  "  and  they  come  upon  me 
like  their  own  ghosts,  as  I  thought  they  was  !  It's  the  won- 
derfullcst ewent  that  ever  happened.  Bring  a  feather,  some- 
body, and  knock  me  down  with  it !  " 


826  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT. 

"  What  do  you  mean  !  "  exclaimed  old  Martin,  quite  as 
much  excited  by  the  spectacle  of  Mark's  excitement,  as  that 
strange  person  was  himself.     "  Neighbors,  where  !  " 

"  Here,  sir  !  "  replied  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Here  in  the  city  of 
London  !  Here  upon  these  very  stones  !  Here  they  are, 
sir  !  Don't  I  know  'em  ?  Lord  love  their  welcome  faces, 
don't  I  know  'em  !" 

With  which  ejaculations  Mr.  Tapley  not  only  pointed  to  a 
decent-looking  man  and  woman  standing  by,  but  commenced 
embracing  them  alternately,  over  and  over  again,  in  Monu- 
ment Yard. 

"  Neighbors,  where  !  "  old  Martin  shouted,  almost  mad- 
dened by  his  ineffectual  efforts  to  get  out  at  the  coach-door. 

'•  Neighbors  in  America  !  Neighbors  in  Eden  !  "  cried 
Mark.  "  Neighbors  in  the  swamp,  neighbors  in  the  bush, 
neighbors  in  the  fever.  Didn't  she  nurse  us  !  Didn't  he  help 
us  !  Shouldn't  we  both  have  died  \\dthout  'em !  Hav'n't  they 
come  a  stnigglin'  back,  without  a  single  child  for  their  conso- 
lation !     And  talk  to  me  of  neighbors  !  " 

Away  he  went  again,  in  a  perfectly  wild  state,  hugging 
them,  and  skipping  round  them,  and  cutting  in  between  them, 
as  if  he  were  performing  some  frantic  and  outlandish  dance. 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  no  sooner  gathered  who  these  people  were, 
than  he  burst  open  the  coach-door  somehow  or  other,  and 
came  tumbling  out  among  them  ;  and  as  if  the  lunacy  of  Mr. 
Tapley  were  contagious,  he  immediately  began  to  shake  hands 
too,  and  exhibit  ever)'^  demonstration  of  the  liveliest  joy. 

"  Get  up  behind  !  "  he  said.  "  Get  up  in  the  rumble. 
Come  along  with  me  !  Go  you  on  the  box,  Mark.  Home  ! 
Home ! " 

"  Home  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  seizing  the  old  man's  hand 
in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm.  "  Exactly  my  opinion,  sir.  Home, 
for  ever !  Excuse  the  libert\-,  sir,  I  can't  help  it.  Success  to 
the  Jolly  Tapley  !  There's  nothin'  in  the  house  they  shan't 
have  for  the  askin'  for,  except  a  bill.  Home  to  be  sure  ! 
Hurrah  ! " 

Home  they  rolled  accordingly,  when  he  had  got  the  old 
man  in  again,  as  fast  as  they  could  go  ;  Mark  abating  nothing 
of  his  fervor  by  the  way,  but  allowing  it  to  vent  itself  as  unre- 
strainedly as  if  he  had  been  on  Salisbur)-  Plain. 

And  now  the  wedding  party  began  to  assemble  at  Tod- 
gers's.  Mr.  Jinkins,  the  only  boarder  invited,  was  on  the 
ground  first.     He  wore  a  white  favor  in  his  button-hole,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  827 

a  bran  new  extra  super  doubled-milled  blue  saxony  dress  coat 
(that  was  its  description  in  the  bill),  with  a  variety  of  tortuous 
embellishments  about  the  pockets,  invented  by  the  artist  to  do 
honor  to  the  day.  The  miserable  Augustus  no  longer  felt 
strongly  even  on  the  subject  of  Jinkins.  He  hadn't  strength 
of  mind  enough  to  do  it.  "  Let  him  come  !  "  he  had  said,  in 
answer  to  Miss  Pecksniff,  when  she  urged  the  point.  "  Let 
him  come  !  He  has  ever  been  my  rock  ahead  through  life. 
'Tis  meet  he  should  be  there.  Ha,  ha  !  Oh,  yes  !  let  Jinkins 
come  ! " 

Jinkins  had  come,  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life  ;  and  there 
he  was.  For  some  few  minutes  he  had  no  companion  but  the 
breakfast,  which  was  set  forth  in  the  drawing-room,  with 
unusual  taste  and  ceremony.  But  Mrs.  Todgers  soon  joined 
him  ;  and  the  bachelor-cousin,  the  hairy  young  gentleman, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  arrived  in  quick  succession. 

Mr.  Spottletoe  honored  Jinkins  with  an  encouraging  bow. 
"  Glad  to  know  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Give  you  joy  !  "  Under 
the  impression  that  Jinkins  was  the  happy  man. 

Mr.  Jinkins  explained.  He  was  merely  doing  the  honors 
for  his  friend  Moddle,  who  had  ceased  to  reside  in  the  house, 
and  had  not  yet  arrived. 

"  Not  arrived,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  Spottletoe,  in  a  great  heat. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Mr.  Jinkins. 

"  Upon  my  soul  !  "  "cried  Spottletoe,  "  He  begins  well  ! 
Upon  my  life  and  honor  this  young  man  begins  well  !  But  I 
should  very  much  like  to  know  how  it  is  that  every  one  who 
comes  into  contact  with  this  family  is  guilty  of  some  gross 
insult  to  it.  Death !  Not  arrived  yet.  Not  here  to  receive 
us!" 

The  nephew  with  the  outline  of  a  countenance,  suggested 
that  perhaps  he  had  ordered  a  new  pair  of  boots,  and  they 
hadn't  come  home. 

"  I^on't  talk  to  me  of  Boots,  sir  !  "  retorted  Spottletoe, 
with  immense  indignation.  "  He  is  bound  to  come  here  in 
his  slippers  then  ;  he  is  bound  to  come  here  barefoot.  Don't 
offer  such  a  wretched  and  evasive  plea  to  me  on  behalf  of 
your  friend,  as  Boots,  sir." 

"  He  is  not  my  friend,"  said  the  nephew.  "  I  never  saw 
him." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  returned  the  fiery  Spottletoe.  "  Then 
don't  talk  to  me  !  " 

The  door  was  thrown  open  at  this  juncture,  and  Miss 


828  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Pecksniff  entered,  tottering,  and  supported  by  her  three  brides- 
maids. The  strong-minded  woman  brought  up  the  rear ;  hav- 
ing waited  outside  until  now  for  the  purpose  of  spoihng  the 
effect. 

"  How  do  you  do,  ma'am  !  "  said  Spottletoe  to  the  strong- 
minded  woman  in  a  tone  of  defiance.  "  I  beUeve  you  see 
Mrs.  Spottletoe,  ma'am  1  " 

The  strong-minded  woman  with  an  air  of  great  interest  in 
Mrs.  Spottletoe 's  health,  regretted  that  she  was  not  more 
easily  seen.  Nature  erring,  in  that  lady's  case,  upon  the  slim 
side. 

"  Mrs.  Spottletoe  is  at  least  more  easily  seen  than  the 
bridegroom,  ma'am,"  returned  that  lady's  husband.  "  That 
is,  unless  he  has  confined  his  attentions  to  any  particular  part 
or  branch  of  this  family,  which  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with 
its  usual  proceedings." 

"  If  you  allude  to  me,  sir — — "  the  strong-minded  woman 
began. 

"  Pray,"  interposed  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  do  not  allow  Augustus, 
at  this  awful  moment  of  his  life  and  mine,  to  be  the  means  of 
disturbing  that  harmony  which  it  is  ever  Augustus's  and  my 
wish  to  maintain.  Augustus  has  not  been  introduced  to  any 
of  my  relations  now  present.     He  preferred  not." 

"  Why,  then,  I  venture  to  assert,"  cried  Mr.  Spottletoe, 
"  that  the  man  who  aspires  to  join  this  family,  and  '  prefers 
not '  to  be  introduced  to  its  members,  is  an  impertinent  Puppy. 
That's  my  opinion  of  him  f' 

The  strong-minded  woman  remarked  with  great  suavity, 
that  she  was  afraid  he  must  be.  Her  three  daughters  observed 
aloud  that  it  was  "  shameful  !  " 

"You  do  not  know  Augustus,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  tear- 
fully, "  indeed  you  do  not  know  him.  Augustus  is  all  mild- 
ness and  humility.  Wait  'till  you  see  Augustus,  and  I  am 
sure  he  will  conciliate  your  affections." 

"  The  question  arises,"  said  Spottletoe,  folding  his'arms  : 
"  How  long  we  are  to  wait.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  wait ; 
that's  the  fact.  And  I  want  to  know  how  long  we  are  ex- 
pected to  wait." 

"  Mrs.  Todgers  !  "  said  Charity,  "  Mr.  Jinkins  !  I  am  afraid 
there  must  be  some  mistake.  I  think  Augustus  must  have 
gone  straight  to  the  Altar!  " 

As  such  a  thing  was  possible,  and  the  church  was  close  at 
hand,  Mr.  Jinkins  ran  off  to  see  :  accompanied  by  Mr.  George 


MARTTN  CHUZZLEWIT.  829 

Chuzzlewit,  the  bachelor  cousin,  who  preferred  anything  to 
the  aggravation  of  sitting  near  the  breakfast,  without  being 
able  to  eat  it.  But  they  came  back  with  no  other  tidings  than 
a  familiar  message  from  the  clerk,  importing  that  if  they 
wanted  to  be  married  that  morning  they  had  better  look  sharp, 
as  the  curate  wasn't  going  to  wait  there  all  day. 

The  bride  was  now  alarmed  ;  seriously  alarmed.  Good 
Heavens,  what  could  have  happened!  Augustus!  Dear 
Augustus  ! 

Mr.  Jinkins  volunteered  to  take  a  cab,  and  seek  him  at 
the  newly-furnished  house.  The  strong-minded  woman  ad- 
ministered comfort  to  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  was  a  specimen 
of  what  she  had  to  expect.  It  would  do  her  good.  It  would 
dispel  the  romance  of  the  affair."  The  red-nosed  daughters 
also  administered  the  kindest  comfort.  "  Perhaps  he'd  come," 
they  said.  The  sketchy  nephew  hinted  that  he  might  have 
fallen  off  a  bridge.  The  wrath  of  Mr.  Spottletoe  resisted  all 
the  entreaties  of  his  wife.  Ever)'body  spoke  at  once,  and 
Miss  Pecksniff,  with  clasped  hands,  sought  consolation  every- 
where and  found  it  nowhere,  when  Jinkins,  having  met  the 
postman  at  the  door,  came  back  with  a  letter  :  which  he  put 
into  her  hand. 

Miss  Pecksniff  opened  it ;  glanced  at  it ;  uttered  a  pierc- 
ing shriek ;  threw  it  down  upon  the  ground  ;  and  fainted 
away. 

They  picked  it  up  ;  and  crowding  around,  and  looking 
over  one  another's  shoulders,  read,  in  the  words  and  dashes 
following,  this  communication  : 

"  Off  Gravesend. 
"  Clipper  Schooner,  Cupid, 
"  Wednesday  flight. 

"Ever  Injured  Miss  Pecksniff, 

"  Ere  this  reaches  you,  the  undersigned  will  be — if  not  a 
corpse — on  the  way  to  Van  Dieman's  Land.  Send  not  in 
pursuit.     I  never  will  be  taken  alive  ! 

"  The  burden — 300  tons  per  register — forgive,  if  in  my  dis- 
traction, I  allude  to  the  ship — on  my  mind — has  been  truly 
dreadful.  Frequently— when  you  have  sought  to  soothe  my 
brow  with  kisses — has  self-destruction  flashed  across  me. 
Frequently — incredible  as  it  may  seem — have  I  abandoned 
the  idea. 


8  ^  o  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 


"  I  love  another.  She  is  Another's.  Everything  appears 
to  be  somebody  else's.  Nothing  in  the  world  is  mine — not 
even  my  Situation — which  I  have  forfeited — by  my  rash  con- 
duct— in  running  away. 

"  If  you  ever  loved  me,  hear  my  last  appeal  !  The  last 
appeal  of  a  miserable  and  blighted  exile.  Forward  the  in- 
closed— it  is  the  key  of  my  desk — to  the  office — by  hand. 
Please  address  to  Bobbs  and  Cholberry — I  mean  to  Chobbs 
and  Bolberry — but  my  mind  is  totally  unhinged.  I  left  a 
penknife — with  a  buckhorn  handle — in  your  work-box.  It  will 
repay  the  messenger.  May  it  make  him  happier  than  ever  it 
did  me  ! 

"  Oh,  Miss  Pecksniff,  why  didn't  you  leave  me  alone ! 
Was  it  not  cruel,  cruel !  Oh,  my  goodness,  have  you  not  been 
a  witness  of  my  feelings — have  you  not  seen  them  flowing 
from  my  eyes — did  you  not,  yourself,  reproach  me  with  weep- 
ing more  than  usual  on  that  dreadful  night  when  last  we  met 
— in  that  house — where  I  once  was  peaceful — though  blighted 
— in  the  society  of  Mrs.  Todgers  ! 

"  But  it  was  written — in  the  Talmud — that  you  should  in- 
volve yourself  in  the  inscrutable  and  gloomy  Fate  which  it  is 
my  mission  to  accomplish,  and  which  wreathes  itself — e'en 
now — about  my — temples.  I  will  not  reproach,  for  I  have 
wronged  you.     May  the  Furniture  make  some  amends  ! 

"  Farewell  !  Be  the  proud  bride  of  a  ducal  coronet,  and 
forget  me  !  Long  may  it  be  before  you  know  the  anguish 
with  which  I  now  subscribe  myself — amid  the  tempestuous 
bowlings  of  the — sailors, 

"  Unalterably,  never  yours, 

"  Augustus.' 

They  thought  as  little  of  Miss  Pecksniff,  while  they 
greedily  perused  this  letter,  as  if  she  were  the  ver)'  last  person 
on  earth  whom  it  concerned.  But  Miss  Pecksniff  really  had 
fainted  away.  The  bitterness  of  her  mortification  ;  the  bitter- 
ness of  having  summoned  witnesses,  and  such  witnesses,  to 
behold  it ;  the  bitterness  of  knowing  that  the  strong-minded 
woman  and  the  red-nosed  daughters  towered  triumphant  in 
this  hour  of  their  anticipated  overthrow  ;  was  too  much  to  be 
borne.     Miss  Pecksniff  had  fainted  away  in  earnest 


MARTIM  CHVZZLE WIT.  83 1 

What  sounds  are  these  that  fall  so  grandly  on  the  ear ! 
What  darkening  room  is  this  ! 

And  that  mild  figure  seated  at  an  organ,  who  is  he  ?  Ah, 
Tom,  dear  Tom,  old  friend  ! 

Thy  head  is  prematurely  gray,  though  Time  has  passed 
between  thee  and  our  old  association,  Tom.  But,  in  those 
sounas  with  which  it  is  thy  wont  to  bear  the  twilight  company, 
the  music  of  thy  heart  speaks  out :  the  story  of  thy  life  relates 
itself. 

Thy  life  is  tranquil,  calm,  and  happy,  Tom.  In  the  soft 
strain  which  ever  and  again  comes  stealing  back  upon  the  ear, 
the  memory  of  thine  old  love  may  find  a  voice  perhaps  ;  but 
it  is  a  pleasant,  softened,  whispering  memory,  like  that  in 
which  we  sometimes  hold  the  dead,  and  does  not  pain  or 
grieve  thee,  God  be  thanked ! 

Touch  the  notes  lightly,  Tom,  as  lightly  as  thou  wilt,  but 
never  will  thine  hand  fall  half  so  lightly  on  that  Instrument 
as  on  the  head  of  thine  old  tyrant  brought  down  very,  very 
low  ;  and  never  will  it  make  as  hollow  a  response  to  any  touch 
of  thine,  as  he  does  always. 

For  a  drunken,  squalid,  begging-letter-writing  man,  called 
Pecksniff  (with  a  shrewish  daughter),  haunts  thee,  Tom  ;  and 
when  he  makes  appeals  to  thee  for  cash,  reminds  thee  that  he 
built  thy  fortunes  better  than  his  own  ;  and  when  he  spends 
it,  entertains  the  alehouse  company  with  tales  of  thine  ingrati- 
tude and  his  munificence  towards  thee  once  upon  a  time  ;  and 
then  he  shows  his  elbows  worn  in  holes,  and  puts  his  soleless 
shoes  upon  a  bench,  and  begs  his  auditors  look  there,  while 
thou  art  comfortably  housed  and  clothed.  All  known  to  thee, 
and  yet  all  borne  with,  Tom  ! 

So,  with  a  smile  upon  thy  face,  thou  passest  gently  to  an- 
other measure — to  a  quicker  and  more  joyful  one — and  little 
feet  are  used  to  dance  about  thee  at  the  sound,  and  bright 
young  eyes  to  glance  up  into  thine.  And  there  is  one  slight 
creature,  Tom — her  child  ;  not  Ruth's — whom  thine  eyes 
follow  in  the  romp  and  dance :  who,  wondering  sometimes  to 
see  thee  look  so  thoughtful,  runs  to  climb  upon  thy  knee,  and 
put  her  cheek  to  thine  :  who  loves  thee,  Tom,  above  the  rest,  if 
that  can  be  :  and  falling  sick  once,  chose  thee  for  her  nurse, 
and  never  knew  impatience,  Tom,  when  thou  w^ert  by  her 
side. 

Thou  glidest  now,  into  a  graver  air  ;  an  air  devoted  to  old 
friends  and  byegone  times  ;  and  in  thy  lingering  touch  upon 


832  MAR  TIN  CHUZZLE  WIT. 

the  keys,  and  the  rich  swelling  of  the  mellow  harmony,  they 
rise  before  thee.  The  spirit  of  that  old  man  dead,  who  de- 
lighted to  anticipate  thy  wants,  and  never  ceased  to  honor 
thee,  is  there,  among  the  rest :  repeating,  with  a  face  composed 
and  calm,  the  words  he  said  to  thee  upon  his  bed,  and  bless- 
ing thee  ! 

And  coming  from  a  garden,  Tom,  bestrewn  with  flowers 
by  children's  hands,  thy  sister,  little  Ruth,  as  light  of  foot  and 
heart  as  in  old  days,  sits  down  beside  thee.  From  the  Pres- 
ent, and  the  Past,  with  which  she  is  so  tenderly  entwined  in 
all  thy  thoughts,  thy  strain  soars  onward  to  the  Future.  As 
it  resounds  within  thee  and  without,  the  noble  music,  rolling 
round  ye  both,  shuts  out  the  grosser  prospect  of  an  earthly 
parting,  and  uplifts  ye  both  to  Heaven  ! 


THE    END. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


At  a  Public  Dinner  given  to  me  on  Saturday,  the  i8th  of 
April,  i86S,  in  the  City  of  New  York,  by  two  hundred  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Press  of  the  United  Slates  of  America,  I 
made  the  following  observations  among  others  : — 

"  So  much  of  my  voice  has  lately  been  heard  in  the  land, 
that  I  might  have  been  contented  with  troubling  you  no  fur- 
ther from  my  present  standing-point,  were  it  not  a  duty  with 
which  I  henceforth  charge  myself,  not  only  here,  but  on  every 
suitable  occasion,  whatsoever  and  wheresoever,  to  express  my 
high  and  grateful  sense  of  my  second  reception  in  America, 
and  to  bear  my  honest  testimony  to  the  national  generosity 
and  magnanimity.  Also,  to  declare  how  astounded  I  have 
been  by  the  amazing  changes  I  have  seeji  around  me  on  every 
side, — changes  moral,  changes  physical,  changes  in  the 
amount  of  land  subdued  and  peopled,  changes  in  the  rise  of 
vast  new  cities,- changes  in  the  growth  of  older  cities  almost 
out  of  recognition,  changes  in  the  graces  and  amenities  of  life, 
changes  in  the  Press,  without  whose  advancement  no  advance- 
ment can  take  place  anywhere.  Nor  am  I,  believe  me,  so 
arrogant  as  to  suppose  that  in  five-and-twenty  years  there 
have  been  no  changes  in  me,  and  that  I  had  nothing  to  learn 
and  no  extreme  expressions  to  correct  when  I  was  here  first. 
And  this  brings  me  to  a  point  on  which  I  have,  ever  since  I 
landed  in  the  United  States  last  November,  observed  a  strict 
silence,  though  sometimes  tempted  to  break  it,  but  in  refer- 
ence to  which  I  will,  with  your  good  leave,  take  you  into  my 
confidence  now.  Even  the  Press,  being  human,  may  be  some- 
times mistaken  or  misinformed,  and  I  rather  think  that  I  have 
in  one  or  two  rare  instances  observed  its  information  to  be 
not    strictly    accurate    with    reference  to  myself.     Indeed,  I 

'833 


834  POSTSCRIPT. 

have,  now  and  again,  been  more  surprised  by  printed  news 
that  I  have  read  of  myself,  than  by  any  printed  news  that  I 
have  ever  read  in  my  present  state  of  existence.  Thus,  the 
vigor  and  perseverance  with  which  I  have  for  some  months  past 
been  collecting  miterials  for,  and  hammering  away  at,  a  new 
book  on  America  has  much  astonished  me  ;  seeing  that  all  that 
time  my  declaration  has  been  perfectly  well  known  to  my  pub- 
lishers on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  that  no  consideration  on 
earth  would  induce  me  to  write  one.  But  what  1  have  in- 
tended, what  I  have  resolved  upon  (and  this  is  the  confidence 
I  seek  to  place  in  you)  is,  on  my  return  to  England,  in  my 
own  person,  in  my  own  Journal,  to  bear,  for  the  behoof  of  my 
countrymen,  such  testimony  to  the  gigantic  changes  in  this 
country  as  I  have  hinted  at  to-night.  Also,  to  record  that 
wherever  I  have  been,  in  the  smallest  places  equally  with  the 
largest,  I  have  been  received  with  unsurpassable  politeness, 
delicacy,  sweet  temper,  hospitality,  consideration,  and  with 
unsurpassable  respect  for  the  privacy  daily  enforced  upon  me 
by  the  nature  of  my  avocation  here,  and  the  state  of  my 
health.  This  testimony,  so  long  as  I  live,  and  so  long  as  my 
descendants  have  any  legal  right  in  my  books,  I  shall  cause 
to  be  republished,  as  an  appendix  to  every  copy  of  those  two 
books  of  mine  in  which  I  have  referred  to  America.  And 
this  I  will  do  and  cause  to  be  done,  not  in  mere  love  and 
thankfulness,  but  because  I  regard  it  as  an  act  of  plain  justice 
and  honor." 

I  said  these  words  with  the  greatest  earnestness  that  I 
could  lay  upon  them,  and  I  repeat  them  in  print  here  with 
equal  earnestness.  So  long  as  this  book  shall  last,  I  hope 
that  they  will  form  a  part  of  it,  and  will  be  fairly  read  as  in- 
separable from  my  experiences  and  impressions  of  America. 

Charles  Dickens. 
May,  1868. 


CHARLES    DICKENS' 

COMPLETE    WORKS 


The  following  Index  contains  the  names  of  all  the  writings 
of  Mr.  Charles  Dickens,  the  numbers  referring  to  the  volume 
in  which  they  will  be  found,  in  the  order  mentioned,  as  fol- 
lows : — 


1.  Pickwick  Papers. 

2.  David  Copperfield. 

3.  Martin  Chuzzlewit. 

4.  Nicholas  Nickleby. 

5.  Bleak  House. 

6.  Little  Dorrit. 

7.  Dombey  &  Son. 

8.  Our  Mutual  Friend. 

9.  Oliver  Twist,  Pictures  from 
Italy,  and  American  Notes. 

10.  Old    Curiosity    Shop    and 
Hard  Times. 


11.  Tale    of    Two    Cities    and 
Sketches  by  Boz. 

12.  Barnaby   Rudge  and  Myst- 
ery OF  Edwin  Drood. 

13.  Great     E.xpectations,     Un 
commercial  Traveller,  and 
Miscellaneous. 

14.  Christmas  Stories  and  Re- 
printed Pieces. 

15.  Child's  History  OF  England 
AND  Miscellaneous. 


INDEX. 


Aboard  Ship 13 

AUdit.  Christmas  Stories  14 

Barlow,  Mr 13 

Barnaby  Rudge 12 

Battle  of  Life,  The 14 

Beadle,  The 11 

Begging-Letter  Writer...  14 

Bill-Sticking 14 

Birth-Day  Celebrations..  13 


A. 

American  Notes  g 

Anecdotes,  Three  Detec- 
tive    14 

B. 

Births 14 

Black  Veil,  The 11 

P.leak  House 5 

Bloomsbury     Christmas, 

The II 

Boarding   House,  The..  11 

Boiled  lieef  of  N.  Engl'd  13 


Arcadian  London 13 

Astleys 11 

Bound  for  the  Great  Salt 

Lake 13 

Boy  at  Mugby,  The..   -.  14 

Boz,  Sketches  by 11 

Broker's  Man,  The 11 

Brokers'  &  Marine-Store 

Shops II 

(835) 


836 


IN'DEX. 


Calais  Night  Mail,  The..   13 

Chambers 13 

Characters 11 

Chatham   Dockyard 13 

Child's  Dream  of  a  Star.  14 
Child's   History  of  Ene- 

land 15 

Child's  Story,  The 14 

Chimes,  The 14 

Christmas  Carol,  A.   ...    14 
Christmas  Dinner,  A 11 


Dancing  Academy,  The.,   n 

Detective  Anecdotes 14 

Detective  Police,  The..    14 


C. 

Christmas  Stories 14 

Christmas  Tree,  A 14 

Christmas   Stories,  Addi- 
tional     14 

Cluizzlewit,  Martin 3 

City  of  London  Chnrches   13 
City  of  the  Absent,  The   13 
Clock,    Master    Humph- 
rey's         15 

Contradictory  Couple.  ...   13 
Cool  Couple,  The 13 

D. 

Doctor's  Commons 11 

Dombev  &  Son 7 

Down  vk'ith  the  Tide   ...    14 


Copperfield,  David ^ 

Couple  who  coddle  them- 
selves. The ^3 

Couple  who  dote  upon 
their  Children,  The...    13 

Couples,  young.  Sketches 

of 13 

Cricket    in    the    Hearth, 

The ,4 

Crimmal   Courts   11 

Curate,  The 11 


Drood,Edwin, Mystery  of  12 
Drunkard's  Death,  The.  1 1 
Dullborough   Town 13 


Early  Coaches n 

Edwin  Drood,  Mystery  of   12 
Egotistical    Couple,  The  13 


Fairy  Tale,  Prince  Bull..   14 

First  of  May,  The n 

First  Omnibus  Cad ii 


E. 

Election  for  Beadle n 

England,   History  of. 
Child's 15 

F. 

Flight,  A 14 

Fly-Leaf  in  a  Life,  A....    13 
Formal  Couple,  The   ...    13 


English  Watering  Place, 

Our 14 

Expectations,    Great 13 


Four  Sisters,  The 11 

French  Flemish  Country.    13 
French  Watering  Place.   14 


Ghost  of  Art,  The 14 

Ghost  Stories,  Two 14 

Ghost's  Bargains,  The . .    14 


Hackney  Coach  Stand..    11 
Hal f- Pay  Captain,  The . .    11 

Hard  Times 10 

Haunted   House,  The...   15 
Haunted  Man,  The 14 


G. 

Gin   Shops II 

Cnjing  into  Society 15 

Great  Expectations 13 


H. 

His  General  Line  of  Bust' 
iiess 13 

History  of  England, 
Child's 15 


Great  Tasmania's  Cargo  13 
Great  Winglebury  Duel,  11 
Greenwich  Fair 11 

Holiday  Romance 15 

Holly  Tree  Inn 10 

Horatio  Sparkins 11 

Hospital  Patient,  The..  11 
Humphrey,  Mast'r,  clock  15 


I. 

Inspector  Field,  On  Duty        |  Italian  Prisoner,  The., 
with 14 


13  I  Italy,  Pictures  from 9 


Ladies'  Societies,  The.. 
Last  Cab  Driver,  The.. 
Lirriper's,     Mrs.,   Lodg- 
ings  


'4 


Lirriper's,    Mrs.,  Legacy  14 
Little  Dinner  in  an  Hour, 

A i3 

Little  Dorrit 6 


London  Recreations. . . . 

Long  Voyage,   The 

Loving  Couple,  The 

Lying  Awake 


II 

'4 
13 
14 


Making  a  Night  of  It 11 

Marigold,  Dr 14 

Master    Humphrey's 

Clock 15 

Midicine  Men   of  Civil- 
ization   13 


M. 

Meditations  in  Monmouth 
Street   11 

Meek,  Mrs.,  of  a  Son...    14 

Minns,  Mr.,  and  his 
cousin II 

Mispl.iced  Attachment  of 


Mr.  John  Dounce 11 

Mistaken  Milliner,  The..  11 
Miss  Evans  and  the  Eagle  1 1 
Monument  of    French 

Folly.  A...  _ 14 

M  udfog  Association,  The  15 


INDEX. 


837 


New  Uncommercial  Sam- 
ples     13 

New  Year,  Tlic 11 

Newgate,  A  Visit  to 11 

Old  Couple,  The 13 

Old  Curiosity  Shop 10 

Old  Lady,  The 11 

Old    Stage    Coaching 

House 13 

Oliver  Twist 9 

Omnibuses 11 

On  an  Amateur  Beat 13 

Parish  Engine,  The 11 

Parish,  Our 11 

Parliamentary  Sketch,  A   11 

Parlor  Orator,  The si 

Passage  in  the  Life  of  Mr. 

Watkins  Tottle 11 

Pawnbroker's  Shop,  The   1 1 

Pieces,  Reprinted 14 

Perils  of  certain  English 


Refreshments  for  Travel- 
lers   13 

Samples,    New    Uncom- 
mercial   13 

Scenes 11 

Schoolboy's    Story,    The  14 

Schoolmaster,  The 11 

Scotland  Yard 11 

Sentiment 11 

Seven    Poor    Travellers, 

The 14 

Tale  of  Two  Cities 11 

Tales II 

Thoughts  about  People..  11 
Three    Detective    Anec- 
dotes   14 


Uncommercial    Samj^les, 
New 13 


Walk  in  a  Workhouse,  A  14 
Wapping  Workhouse ....  13 
Workhouse,  A  Walk  in  a  14 


N 

Nice  Little  Couple,  The  13 

Nickleby,  Nicholas 4 

Night  Walks 13 

Noble   Savage,  The 14 

O. 

On  duty  with  Inspector 
Field 14 

Our  Bore 14 

Our  English  Watering 
Place 14 

Our  French  Watering 
Place 14 

P. 

Travellers 15 

Pickwick  Papers i 

Pictures  from   Italy 9 

Plated  Article,  A 14 

Plausible  Couple,  The..    13 
Plea    for  Total    Abstin- 
ence     13 

Poor  Man's  Tale  of  a 
Patent 14 

R. 

Reprinted  Pieces 14 

River,  The 11 

S. 

Seven  Dials 11 

Shabby  Genteel  People..   11 

Shipwreck,  The 13 

Shops  and  their  Tenants  1 1 

Shy  Neighborhoods 13 

Signal  Man,   The 14 

Silverman's,  George,  Ex- 
planation     15 

Sketches  by  Boz 11 

T. 

Titbull's    ."Mms-houses . .    13 
Tom  Tiddler's  Ground.  .    15 

Tramps 13 

Traveller,  Uncommercial   13 

Travelling  Abroad    13 

Trial  for  Murder,  The..    14 

U.  V. 

Uncommercial  Traveller   13 
Visit  to  Newgate ii 


Nobody's  Story 14 

No  Thoroughfare 15 

Notes,  American g 

Nurse's  Stories 13 

Our  Honorable  Friend..  14 

Our  Mutual  Friend 8 

Our  Next  Door  Neighbor  n 

Our   Parish   11 

Our  School 14 

Our  Vestry 14 

Out  of  the  Season 14 

Out  of  Town 14 


Poor  Mercantile  Jack...  13 
Poor    Relation's    Story, 

The 14 

Porter,  Mrs,  Joseph 11 

Prince    Bull,    a    Fairy 

Tale 14 

Private  Theatres   11 

Prisoners' Van,  The....  11 

Public  Dinners 11 

I  Romance,   Holiday 15 

I  Rudge,  Barnaby 12 

Sketch  esof  Young 

Couples ....  13 

Small  Star  in  the  East,  A  13 

Somebody's  Luggage..  ..  14 
Some     Recollections    of 

Mortality 13 

Steam  Excursion,  The. .  11 

Streets — Morning ir 

Streets — Evening 11 

Twist,  Oliver q 

Two  Ghost  Stories 14 

Two   Views   of  a  Cheap 

Theatre 13 

Tugg's  at  Ramsgate,  The  1 1 


Wreck    of 
Mary . . . 


W.  Y. 

the     Golden 


Vaiixliall      Gardens     by 
Day '.    II 

Young  Couple,  The 13 

15  I  Young  Couples,  Sketches 
I       of ij 


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